"Kael Raithe," Captain Rusk Dain said, calm and certain, "return the subject to me."
The spice market noise didn't swallow the words.
It made room for them.
Lanternlight smeared across wet planks and stacked burlap sacks. Cinnamon and pepper burned Astra's nose. Somewhere above, a vendor laughed too loudly—then went quiet as if his throat had been pinched.
Astra felt it in her collar first: a warm, eager pulse, like the metal recognized the tone and wanted to be useful.
Kael's crest flared bright.
Not fully—Rusk was still muffled by distance and Underchain grime—but enough to make Kael's jaw tighten and his breathing hitch. The Guardian link between them tugged hard, hot as a hooked line.
Return the subject.
Astra's Underchain Mask held her "scent" folded in a wrong, private way, but it didn't hide Kael's signal. It didn't hide the fact that the system had labeled him the closest authority to her in a city full of hands.
At the end of the service alley, the House agents waited under a lantern like they'd been poured there. Their leader wore the Veyrn sigil at his throat—polished calm, polite poison.
"Guardian Raithe," he called softly, as if they were in a salon and not a chase, "Marquis Veyrn requests your immediate audience."
Kael's hand tightened at Astra's waist. He didn't yank. He didn't reach for her collar. He held the only place that still felt human.
"Consent," Kael rasped, voice rough with the pull in his spine, "to running."
Astra swallowed hard, tasting blood and spice. "Yes."
Orin moved first, already pulling Juno by the sleeve. Lyra drifted behind them like smoke—too composed, eyes glittering, mouth almost smiling.
They turned to bolt—
—and the Guardian link yanked again, harder, as if Rusk's voice had found a cleaner seam.
Kael staggered half a step.
Astra felt the pull in his body like it was in her own ribs.
"Kael," Astra snapped, stepping close enough that her shoulder hit his chest and her breath warmed his mouth, "black water."
Kael's eyes found hers—furious, present, fighting.
"Black water," he rasped back.
For a heartbeat, the pull eased.
Then the House leader's smile widened.
"You can run," the man said politely, "but you can't outrun your own title."
Behind them, footsteps began to converge—soft, careful, too many. Not Hounds yet. House first. House liked to send polite knives before it sent boots.
Orin hissed, "This way!"
He slammed his shoulder into a stack of spice crates. Burlap split. Dried pepper spilled across wet boards like blood-red sand. The alley opened into a tighter maintenance channel under the market stalls, half-flooded with rainwater.
Juno's disks clattered in her palm, humming a dirty note that made the air feel itchy.
Lyra's voice drifted in Astra's ear, almost amused. "Your Mask is cracking. Your Guardian is loud."
Astra didn't look at her. "Shut up and move."
They splashed through ankle-deep water. Overhead, footfalls thudded—House agents shifting to cut them off from above. The market was a maze, but the Dominion and House both paid people to learn mazes.
Astra's interface flickered violently.
MASK FAILURE RISK: HIGHNOTE: PRIMARY HOLDER SIGNAL LEAK (GUARDIAN LINK)COMMAND VOICE: DETECTED
The collar pulsed like it wanted to listen.
Astra bit down hard, jaw aching.
Kael's hand stayed at her waist—asked-for, steady—guiding her through the flooded channel without shoving her into walls. He was breathing like he was carrying a weight inside his chest that no one could see.
"Rusk is—" Kael started, voice tight.
"I know," Astra cut in.
Orin skidded to a stop at a rusted grate. He punched the latch with the heel of his hand and it popped.
"Down," Orin snapped.
Astra climbed without thinking. Kael went after her, still close, still holding posture and proximity like it mattered—because in her bones, it did.
The grate slammed shut above them.
Darkness swallowed spice and lanternlight.
The air changed to damp stone and iron rot. Underchain again—thinner tunnels, tighter turns, older contracts written into the walls like scars.
For a heartbeat, Astra thought the pull would ease.
It didn't.
Rusk's voice came through again, cleaner now, as if the system had learned where the seams were in the Underchain network.
"Guardian," Rusk said softly, "you're accountable. Secure your subject."
Kael's body twitched.
Astra felt his arm tighten at her waist, involuntary.
She snapped her head toward him. "Consent."
Kael's breath hitched. "Yes."
He loosened immediately, fighting himself.
Heat flared low in Astra's belly—sharp and ugly—because he was trying so hard not to become a leash that the effort itself felt intimate.
Lyra's quiet laugh bounced off stone. "He's going to break himself."
Orin snarled, "Not helping."
Lyra shrugged, unbothered. "It's true."
Juno whispered, "Stop—listen."
Bootsteps above. Distant. Moving in patterns.
House and Hounds sweeping the market like a net.
Astra's collar pulsed again—eager, annoyed, undecided.
Her Underchain Mask ticked down inside her UI like a lie that couldn't hold forever.
And beneath that, a new line appeared in jagged Underchain text that made her stomach drop:
UNDERCHAIN NOTICE: COMMAND VOICE INTRUSIONOFFER: NULL VOICE (LOCAL)REQUIRES: CHAIN DEBT +2WARNING: ADMIN FLAG (LOCAL) — COST REAL
Admin.
The word didn't feel like power.
It felt like a trap wearing a crown.
Astra's mouth tasted metal. The system had been dragging her up a ladder of permissions, step by step, each rung costing skin.
Now it offered her a rung labeled Admin—but only inside Underchain jurisdiction, and only if she paid in chain debt.
Kael's breath warmed her hair. "What are you seeing."
Astra swallowed. "Underchain can mute command voice locally. It's calling it Null Voice."
Lyra's eyes glittered in the dark. "Take it."
Orin hissed, "No. Admin flags get noticed."
Lyra smiled faintly. "Everything gets noticed. Pick what keeps you alive."
Rusk's voice slid in again, smoother, more intimate—like he enjoyed the proximity.
"Kael," he murmured, "don't make me correct you in front of civilians."
Kael's jaw clenched. His shoulders squared by reflex.
Astra stepped closer and pressed her mouth near his jaw, not kissing, just breathing warmth into him like a private language.
"Black water," she whispered.
"Black water," Kael rasped back.
Astra's gaze flicked to the prompt again.
NULL VOICE (LOCAL)ADMIN FLAG (LOCAL)COST REAL
She could pay.
Her trace was already high. Her penance debt still pressed her chest like a weight seeking posture. Chain debt sat in her bones like a hand on the back of her neck.
Adding more debt would make future collection uglier.
But if she didn't—Kael would be forced to hear Rusk clearly, and the system would push him toward "secure subject," and then the word Return would show up again.
The worst part wasn't that Kael might obey.
The worst part was that Kael might break himself resisting.
Astra turned her head slightly toward Kael, close enough to feel his breath catch.
"Consent," Astra whispered, "to me using Underchain Admin locally to mute Rusk for a short window."
Kael's eyes found hers in the dark—furious, terrified, honest.
"It costs you," he rasped.
Astra tasted blood. "Everything costs me."
Kael swallowed hard. "And it might brand you."
Astra's mouth curved, bitter. "I'm already branded."
Kael's hand tightened at her waist—grounding. "Yes," he said. "I consent."
Astra didn't look at Lyra.
She didn't look at Orin.
She looked inward, to the jagged Underchain prompt, and accepted with deliberate clarity.
"Yes," Astra said under her breath. "Null Voice. Local. Temporary."
The tunnel shuddered—not with sound, but with a subtle rearrangement, like a lock turning inside stone.
Her interface flashed.
ADMIN (LOCAL): GRANTED — UNDERCHAIN JURISDICTIONNULL VOICE: ACTIVE (20s)CHAIN DEBT: +2DEBT TOTAL: 3NOTE: COLLECTION LIKELY
Pain hit her like cold pressure behind the eyes—less sharp than trace pain, more like a crushing certainty that she owed something to a place with no mercy.
The pull on Kael's crest stuttered—then cut.
Rusk's voice vanished mid-breath.
Silence landed like a weapon.
Kael exhaled hard, as if a hand had been lifted off his spine. His jaw unclenched by a fraction.
Orin's eyes widened. "Good."
Lyra's smile gleamed in the dark. "There. See? You can do it."
Astra wiped blood from her lip and forced herself upright. The penance weight in her chest still pressed, but Kael's proximity kept it from forcing her into weakness.
"Move," Astra said. "Now."
They ran.
Orin led them through a tight throat that split twice, then dropped down into an older chain-lined corridor. The Underchain felt different here: drier, cleaner, like someone maintained it on purpose. The kind of place where deals were made quietly.
Juno sprinted close, disks clattering. She kept glancing back, like she expected the tunnel to cough up a Hound at any second.
Kael stayed at Astra's waist, guiding her through turns, keeping pace with her breathing.
"Consent," he asked once, rough, "to me holding while we run."
"Yes," Astra panted. "Hold."
Heat flared anyway—because hearing him ask while his crest still glowed faintly felt like a promise he refused to let the system rewrite.
The silence held.
Twenty seconds.
Astra counted them in her skull like stolen coins.
Then the Underchain text flickered again:
NULL VOICE: 00:00:05
Kael felt it too. His breathing tightened.
Astra's head throbbed with debt.
They burst into a wider junction with rusted pipes and a low ribbon of water cutting through the floor. Orin slowed, scanning.
"We need a surface exit," Orin hissed. "Or a deeper Thread Path. House will flood the market."
Lyra tilted her head, listening. "They're adjusting. Command will route around your mute."
Astra's stomach tightened. Of course they would.
Astra's interface offered another Underchain option—greedy, immediate:
ADMIN (LOCAL): ROUTE SPOOFEFFECT: MISDIRECT PURSUIT (LOCAL)COST: CHAIN DEBT +1WARNING: MARK MAY STICK