The Null Chapel let them leave like it let everything leave—unfinished.
Astra felt it the moment their boots crossed the threshold and the black water's silence slid behind them. The air changed. The muffled pressure returned. Signal got cleaner. Claims got sharper.
And the collar on her throat—always hungry for neatness—tightened as if relieved to be back in a world that liked rules.
Her interface flashed in the dim tunnel, cold and bright enough to hurt.
INTERIM OVERSIGHT: ACTIVE — 71:42:19CLAUSE: LEASH RECIPROCITY (DORMANT → ACTIVE)WARNING: OVERRIDE REQUEST MAY TRIGGER DURING SUBJECT DISTRESSFAILSAFE: CONSENT GATE BYPASS IF SUBJECT UNCONSCIOUS
Astra swallowed hard and kept walking anyway.
Kael stayed at her side without touching her collar, his body angled to block angles. His shoulder bruise—Guild geometry dirtied by Orin's ash paste—still shimmered faintly under the grime like it wanted to be clean again.
Lyra trailed behind, quieter than usual, still damp at the hem from the black water. Her eyes kept flicking to Astra's throat seal the way a knife keeps flicking to a weak spot.
Orin led, muttering routes under his breath.
Juno moved ahead and back like a restless spark, wire disks clicking softly in her palm.
Astra forced her breathing slow. Posture. Feet. No fainting. No giving the system its excuse.
Because the system didn't need her to die.
It only needed her to fall.
The tunnel narrowed, then widened into an artery that smelled of wet salt and old smoke. Somewhere above, the city lived—lanterns, lies, Dominion boots.
Astra's witness seal hummed like a satisfied parasite.
And then silk slid into her nerves, warm as breath at the throat.
"You did beautifully," Dorian murmured. "You even made a saint blink."
Astra's stomach tightened. She didn't answer him. Answering was a door.
Dorian didn't need doors anymore.
"You're tired," he continued, conversational. "You're bleeding trace. You're holding your spine up with anger. That's adorable."
Kael's gaze flicked to Astra's face, reading the micro-shift in her breath. "He's pushing."
Astra kept her voice low. "Yes."
Dorian sighed, pleased. "Seventy-two hours in a Hound's hands. What a sweet little cage you built."
Astra's interface flickered.
OWNER CHANNEL PRESSURE: RISINGNOTE: DELAY LOOP CLAUSE WILL RECORD ATTEMPTPAIN: INCOMING
Pain rolled up behind Astra's eyes like a tide.
Not sharp at first. Just heavy. A weight that made her thoughts slow and her vision soften at the edges.
Dorian's voice turned intimate—too close, like lips almost touching skin. "Go on," he whispered. "Blink for me."
Astra's knees threatened to soften.
Kael's hand closed around her wrist—firm, grounding. "Astra. Breathe."
Astra inhaled through her nose, forcing air into the part of her body that wanted to quit. "I'm here."
Dorian chuckled. "Such discipline. Such—"
The pain spiked.
Astra's teeth clenched. Her throat burned around metal. Her trace buzzed hot in her veins, as if the collar was enjoying the stress.
Astra saw the edge of another notification trying to surface—something not in her UI, but close enough to feel.
A request.
A prompt.
Not hers.
Kael's.
Kael swore under his breath—one quiet, ugly word.
Astra's head snapped toward him. "What."
Kael's jaw was locked. His eyes had gone darker, as if he'd just been shown a blade with his name on it. "I—" He swallowed. "I got a prompt."
Astra's blood went cold. "Override."
Kael didn't answer immediately. He didn't want to say it out loud like it would make it more real.
Then he said, rough and flat, "Yes."
Astra's stomach dropped.
The clause had awakened fast.
Too fast.
They weren't even back in Orin's pocket.
Orin stopped and glanced back, face tight. "Don't tell me you brought chapel ghosts with you."
Juno's eyes widened. "He has a prompt?"
Lyra's mouth curved faintly. "Of course he does."
Astra's throat burned. "Kael. Don't—"
Kael's grip on her wrist tightened for a heartbeat, then loosened again like he caught himself. "I'm not doing anything," he said, low and furious. "I'm telling you it exists."
Astra nodded once, sharp. "Good."
Dorian's silk laughter curled through Astra's collar. "Oh, this is my favorite part. Watching good men discover what 'failsafe' means."
Astra forced her eyes open wider, refusing to blink. "Not unconscious," she rasped.
Kael's voice cut in, urgent and controlled. "You're in distress. It might not wait for unconscious."
Astra tasted blood. The system had written the clause with polite words, not honest ones.
Distress was a door.
Dorian was shoving her toward it.
Orin's voice went hard. "Move. We need a pocket. Now."
He led them into a side vein of tunnel that sloped down into older stone. The air thickened with a familiar Underchain muffler taste—wet cloth and ash.
Orin slapped a scar-sigil, then another. The world grew dimmer, quieter, less clean.
Astra's witness seal hummed, displeased.
The pain behind her eyes stayed anyway.
Dorian's pressure didn't care about mufflers. It lived inside law.
Astra's interface flickered again, and she saw it—like a crack in a wall she hadn't known existed.
A new module edge. A new permission shape.
Not bright. Not confident.
Just… there.
PERMISSION CHANGE DETECTEDWRITE (OTHER): LIMITED — LINKED TARGET: KAEL RAITHECONDITION: INTERIM OVERSIGHT ACTIVECOST: TRACE + PAIN
Astra's breath caught.
Chapter twenty-six.
The ladder turned under her feet.
She could write him—limited—because the system had tied them together and called it safety.
A gift disguised as a leash.
Kael's eyes narrowed as he watched Astra's face change. "What did you see."
Astra swallowed hard. "I can… reach your interface."
Lyra's eyes brightened. "Oh."
Orin swore softly. "That's new."
Juno leaned in, hungry and scared. "Can you shut the override off."
Astra's throat burned. "Maybe. But it costs."
Kael's voice went low. "Don't hurt yourself for me."
Astra almost laughed.
As if survival ever came without blood.
She met Kael's eyes—dark, steady, furious—and forced herself calm.
"This isn't for you," Astra said quietly. "It's for me."
Kael's jaw flexed. "Same thing."
Heat flared low in Astra's belly at the way he said it—like a truth he didn't want to admit had slipped out anyway.
Astra used the heat like fuel.
"Orin," Astra said, voice sharp, "pocket. Now."
Orin shoved a panel aside and dragged them into a cramped room carved into old stone. Damp cloth hung from hooks. A battered table. A guttering lamp.
A place that smelled like people who had run too often.
Orin slapped the scar-sigil and the air thickened, muffling signal. Not perfect. Never perfect.
But enough to breathe.
Astra leaned against the wall and fought the urge to slide down. Her legs trembled. Her throat seal hummed, impatient.
Kael stood in front of her like he could block the seal by being larger than it. He couldn't. But the instinct mattered.
His voice dropped low. "Tell me what to do."
Astra blinked, slow. Dorian wanted that blink to become a fall.
She refused.
"Show me the prompt," Astra said.
Kael hesitated, then nodded once. His eyes unfocused slightly—like he was reading something only he could see.
Then he spoke, tight. "It says: OVERRIDE REQUEST AVAILABLE — SUBJECT DISTRESS DETECTED. And there's… a button."
Astra's stomach turned. "What's the label."
Kael's jaw clenched. "EXECUTE."
Lyra exhaled softly. "Charming."
Orin spat on the floor. "Guild wrote that clause like a trap."
Astra's mouth went dry. "It might not be Guild. It might be the collar's own failsafe. Or Dorian's variant."
Kael's eyes sharpened. "Can he trigger it."
Astra swallowed. "He's trying."
Dorian's silk voice purred in her nerves. "I'm not trying. I'm watching you dance."
Astra clenched her jaw and opened the new permission in her mind.
Write(Other).
Limited.
Linked target: Kael.
It felt like sliding a hand under someone else's skin.
Astra hated it immediately.
She made herself speak anyway—because consent wasn't just for sex. It was for power.
Astra looked at Kael. "I can write a restriction into your override prompt," she said, voice low. "But it will touch your system. Consent?"
Kael didn't answer fast. His gaze held hers like he was weighing the risk of letting anyone—anyone—write into him.
Then he remembered what Silex had promised: standardized.
Kael's jaw tightened.
"Yes," he said, rough and clear. "But you tell me what you write."
Astra nodded once. "Agreed."
Heat flickered between them—sharp, intimate, strategic.
Lyra's eyes glittered with irritation.
Orin rolled his shoulders like he wanted to crawl out of the room to avoid watching whatever this was.
Juno leaned in, eyes wide, as if she was watching a knife-maker at work.
Astra opened the clause space in Kael's prompt and carved a line with shaking precision:
OVERRIDE EXECUTION REQUIRES: ASTRA VEY'S SPOKEN CONFIRMATION + KAEL RAITHE'S SPOKEN CONFIRMATION (MATCHING PHRASE: "BLACK WATER")
Not perfect.
But a gate.
A double-consent latch.
Pain surged through Astra's skull as if something had slapped her from the inside. Her vision whitened for half a heartbeat. Trace spiked like a flare.
TRACE: 80.2%