The Lumen wards didn't feel like protection.
They felt like permission—the kind you were allowed to borrow until someone decided you'd misused it.
Astra's boots scraped on polished stone that reflected candlelight in thin gold lines. Every arch above her was carved with scripture-sigils that hummed against her collar like they were speaking the same language, just cleaner. The air smelled of incense and wax and something sharper underneath—cold authority dressed up as mercy.
Seraphine stood at the end of the corridor with hands folded, a smile too calm for a night like this. Candlelight gilded her cheekbones and made her eyes look almost holy.
Almost.
"Well," she said softly, "my Hound finally brought me a collar."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Seraphine."
The name came out like a warning, not a greeting.
Astra kept her spine straight and her breathing slow. The collar at her throat pulsed once—quietly pleased to be in a place where laws were carved into stone instead of whispered through gutters.
Seraphine's gaze lingered on Astra's damp throat wrap with the intimacy of judgment. "You look exhausted, Astra Vey."
Astra met her eyes. "You look prepared."
Seraphine's smile sharpened. "I'm practical."
Then she tilted her head slightly, listening.
A faint hum answered—clean, military, threaded through the chapel wards like a knife through silk.
Seraphine's eyes glittered. "Captain Dain is on the line."
Astra's stomach tightened.
Kael's shoulders went rigid. The proxy owner brand inside him reacted like a bruise pressed too hard. Astra could feel the tug in his posture, the old reflex to stand straighter when command spoke.
The Lumen ward lines pulsed once on the floor.
Her interface flickered, and one sentence settled into her vision with cold certainty:
SAFE HOUSE VERIFIED — AUTHORITY PRESENTNOTE: COMMAND OVERSIGHT CONNECTED VIA LUMEN CHANNEL
Seraphine took a slow step closer. The air around her felt warmer, but not kinder.
"Welcome home," she said, gentle as a blessing and sharp as a trap, "to a house that answers both God and Empire."
The threat in it was quiet: You don't have to run anymore. You just have to obey the right people.
Astra heard Orin's warning in her head—no clean saints.
Behind Astra, footsteps echoed softly. Not boots. Bare soles. A pair of Lumen attendants in pale robes appeared at the corridor mouth, faces lowered, hands hidden in sleeves. Their crests glimmered faintly at the throat—not slave crests, but vows.
Juno stiffened at Astra's side, disk clenched in her palm like a tooth. Orin's face was hard, unreadable, already scanning for exits that didn't exist.
Kael stayed close—too close, not close enough—hand hovering at Astra's waist like he didn't trust his own fingers anymore.
Seraphine's eyes flicked to Kael's wrist, where the handler mark sat like ink that refused to wash off. Then her gaze softened into something almost sympathetic.
Almost.
"Your crest is screaming," Seraphine murmured. "And you still brought her here."
Kael's voice came low, controlled. "We didn't bring ourselves. Your house pulled us."
Seraphine's smile didn't fade. "And you let it."
Kael's throat worked. He hated that the system made that sentence true.
Astra stepped forward before Kael could snap. "You wanted us," she said. "Say the price."
Seraphine's eyes brightened. She liked directness the way predators liked honesty—because it let them choose where to bite.
"The price," Seraphine said, "is that you stop bleeding your rebellion across my floors."
Astra's mouth tightened. "That's not a price. That's a rule."
Seraphine tilted her head. "Rules are the only currency that stays valuable."
The Lumen wards pulsed again.
And then, like a blade sliding into the room, Captain Rusk Dain's voice arrived—clean, calm, impossible to ignore.
"Deliver them," Rusk said.
Not to Seraphine.
To the air.
The chapel answered anyway.
Kael went still. His spine tried to straighten by reflex.
Astra watched his throat work. Watched the fight in his jaw.
Seraphine didn't even blink. She smiled faintly, as if Rusk was a guest she'd expected.
"Captain," she said, soft and polite, "you're loud in my house."
Rusk's voice stayed calm. "Sister-Matriarch. You're interfering with containment."
Seraphine's gaze didn't move from Astra's throat. "I'm preventing contamination."
"Hand over the collar," Rusk said.
Seraphine's smile sharpened. "You don't own collars, Captain."
Astra felt the collar pulse at the word own, hungry and irritated at once. She forced her breathing even.
Kael's voice cut in, rough. "No one owns her."
Rusk's tone shifted—interest, then quiet cruelty. "You do, proxy."
Kael flinched like the word was a slap.
Astra felt it too—the proxy owner tag sitting inside Kael like a parasite. A countdown in her memory: seventy-two hours.
Seraphine's eyes flicked to Kael's face now, and her smile softened the way a priest softened when she smelled sin.
"Proxy owner," Seraphine murmured. "How… convenient."
Kael's jaw clenched. "It's a trap."
Seraphine's gaze returned to Astra. "Everything is a trap. Sanctuary is just one that smiles while it closes."
Orin shifted his weight slightly. His hand brushed his belt where he kept black paste. Astra caught the movement and shook her head once—tiny, sharp.
Not here.
Not on holy stone.
The wards would react like living law.
Seraphine noticed anyway. She turned her head slightly toward Orin, voice still gentle. "Underchain habits don't function well in the light."
Orin's eyes narrowed. "Neither do Dominion ones."
Seraphine's smile flickered—amused. "We'll see."
Astra didn't let them posture. She pointed the conversation where she needed it.
"Rusk wants us," Astra said. "Dorian wants me. You pulled us. So tell me, Seraphine—what do you want."
Seraphine's eyes glittered. "Truth."
Astra's stomach tightened. "That's a pretty word."
"It's a useful one," Seraphine said softly. "I want the truth of what you are."
Kael stepped closer to Astra, body angling like a shield without touching her throat. His hand hovered at her waist, asking with his eyes.
Astra gave a tight nod.
Kael held her—warm, steady. Asked-for.
Seraphine watched the contact with bright interest. "Consent in a proxy-owner bond," she murmured. "How… rare."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Don't."
Seraphine's smile sharpened. "Don't what. Admire you."
Kael's eyes went darker. "Use her."
Seraphine's gaze slid to Astra again, slow. "I use everyone. I just prefer they understand the terms."
Astra forced her voice calm. "Then state yours."
Seraphine stepped closer until candlelight warmed Astra's face and the wards hummed louder under her collar.
"I can shelter you from command," Seraphine said, as if she were offering a blanket. "And I can muddy the House claim. Lumen wards don't like ownership."
Rusk's voice cut through, colder. "That is not your jurisdiction."
Seraphine didn't look away from Astra. "In my house, it is."
Astra's collar pulsed, uncertain—caught between military command and holy ward.
Astra swallowed. "And the cost."
Seraphine's smile didn't move. "You will let me examine the collar."
Kael's hand tightened at Astra's waist, involuntary anger. "No."
Astra felt heat flare low in her belly—not just fear, but the sharp intimacy of being fought over like a weapon.
She didn't let it soften her.
"I decide," Astra said, flat.
Seraphine's eyes brightened. "Good."
Kael's jaw clenched, but he didn't contradict Astra. He just breathed harder through restraint, and that restraint made Astra's nerves sing in a way she hated needing.
Astra lifted her chin. "Examine how."
Seraphine's smile sharpened. "Not with hands. With light."
One of the attendants stepped forward silently and raised a brass candlestick. The flame inside it wasn't normal candlelight—it burned too steady, too clean, like a controlled signal.
Astra's witness seal under the damp wrap vibrated, thrilled.
Astra's collar pulsed in answering hunger.
Astra's stomach turned.
Seraphine watched Astra's reaction like a physician watching a wound. "Your collar recognizes Lumen," Seraphine murmured. "That's… telling."
Rusk's voice threaded through again. "I'm ordering you to detain them."
Seraphine's tone stayed soft. "You're ordering. I'm offering."
Astra felt Kael's hand at her waist tighten slightly, then loosen as he caught himself.
"Consent," Kael murmured, rough, "to me holding."
Astra's throat burned. "Yes."
Seraphine's gaze flicked to Kael's mouth. "He asks you," she said. "Even with owner proxy on his spine."
Kael's eyes went lethal. "Stop saying it."
Seraphine smiled. "Words don't hurt. Truth does."
Astra's pulse kicked. The air felt tight, like a room waiting for a signature.
Seraphine raised her hand—not touching Astra, only hovering near the damp wrap at her throat. "If you refuse," she said softly, "Rusk will escalate. He'll take you. Or he'll break the proxy until it obeys."
Kael's jaw clenched at break.
Astra's mouth went dry. "And if I accept."
Seraphine's smile sharpened. "Then you become mine for one hour."
Kael went still. "No."
Seraphine's eyes flicked to him. "Not sexually," she said, mildly amused. "Strategically. You will answer questions. You will stand in my light. You will not lie."
Astra's stomach tightened. "And Kael."
Seraphine's smile softened. "He waits."
Kael's hand at Astra's waist tightened—anger, fear, jealousy all at once.
Astra felt the heat of that jealousy like a spark in her belly. Dangerous. Useful.
She leaned slightly back into Kael's hold and kept her voice low and clear.
"Kael," Astra murmured, "consent to waiting while I do this, if I choose."
Kael's throat worked. His eyes burned into hers—raw, furious, present.
"Ask me properly," Kael rasped.
The ritual mattered. It kept power from turning into theft.
Astra inhaled once. "Kael Raithe, do you consent to staying in this house for one hour while Seraphine examines the collar—without using any owner commands—unless I ask you to."
Kael's jaw clenched.
Then he answered anyway, because he chose her even when it tasted like poison.
"Yes," Kael said, rough. "I consent."
Astra's pulse kicked. Heat and grief tangled.
Seraphine watched the exchange with bright satisfaction. "Good," she murmured. "Your leash can still speak."
Kael's eyes went murderous.
Astra turned back to Seraphine. "One hour," she said. "No hands. No separation by force. And you block Rusk."
Seraphine's smile widened slightly. "Bold."
Astra didn't blink. "Necessary."
Seraphine's gaze sharpened. "Agreed."
The Lumen wards pulsed on the floor like a contract accepting terms.
Astra's interface flickered—soft, unfamiliar iconography—gold lines and candle symbols slipping between her usual harsh Dominion text.
LUMEN SANCTUARY PROTOCOL: OFFEREDTERM: 1 HOURNOTE: LIES WITHIN LIGHT MAY TRIGGER PENANCE