"Down, Kael."
The words hit the chamber like gravity.
Clean light spilled through the cracked seam, turning dust into knives. The lead Hound filled the opening—crest bright, face calm, eyes trained on Kael like he was a weapon that had wandered off its rack.
Kael's knees buckled.
Not because he wanted to.
Because the conduit walls remembered the command and pushed it into his nerves.
Astra's breath caught. Her hand snapped onto his forearm, hard—human contact, not crest, not collar. She felt muscle fighting muscle inside him, his rage trying to stand up against a system that didn't care about rage.
"Kael," she hissed. "Look at me."
His eyes jerked to hers—dark, furious, ashamed.
"I'm here," he rasped.
His body kept dipping.
The witness seal under Astra's cloth wrap vibrated, thrilled by the clean military channel. The collar tightened like it loved the clarity of hierarchy.
And Astra's interface lit up, bright and cruel, offering the neatest violence in the world:
HANDLER OVERRIDE: AVAILABLERECOMMENDED ACTION: SUBDUE HOUND / SECURE SUBJECT / COMPLY WITH RECALL
Dorian's silk voice purred at the edge of her nerves. Press it. Hold him down yourself. Make it yours.
Astra's stomach twisted. Not with doubt about survival.
With fear of the way power tasted.
Orin's voice came tight behind her. "Astra—now!"
Juno's disk hummed in her palm like an angry insect.
Kael's breath hitched—his knees shaking. "Ask me," he rasped, furious at himself. "Tell me what to do."
Consent. Even here. Even now.
Astra leaned in close, breath warming his jaw, voice low and absolute.
"Consent," Astra whispered. "If I press override, it's only to keep you standing and moving. Nothing else."
Kael's throat worked. "Yes."
The lead Hound took a single step deeper into the chamber, steady as a metronome.
"Containment authorized," he said calmly. "Stand aside."
Astra didn't stand aside.
She opened the handler panel—but she didn't choose the big, clean compliance the system wanted.
She chose the smallest blade that kept Kael himself.
OVERRIDE ACTION: UPRIGHT STANCE LOCK (KAEL) — 2sOVERRIDE ACTION: MOTOR PATH — MOVE WITH HANDLER (5s)
Pain detonated behind Astra's eyes like a white sun. Her vision flashed. Trace buzzed hot under her skin, loud enough to make her teeth ache.
She tasted blood.
Kael's body snapped upright—held by ugly law for two seconds—then jerked forward half a step toward Astra as if a tether had been tied between them.
Kael's eyes flared with rage. "Astra—"
"I know," she rasped. "Run with me."
The lead Hound's gaze sharpened. "Handler interference detected."
The words weren't accusation.
They were a classification.
Something in the air tightened, a military net preparing to drop.
Orin slammed his palm onto the scar-sigil again. The dead-sand gutters shuddered and spit a thin cloud of grit into the seam-light. The clean glow fuzzed at the edges.
Juno threw her disk.
It hit the floor between the Hound and Kael and screamed—dirty hum climbing the walls like a curse. The conduit network stuttered.
For a heartbeat, the recall weight eased.
Kael sucked in air like a drowning man.
Astra grabbed his wrist—hard, grounding—then loosened her grip immediately, like she was refusing to turn contact into ownership.
"Black water," she whispered.
Kael answered, rough and immediate. "Black water."
His voice steadied his body in a way the system couldn't counterfeit.
Astra's chest tightened with heat and grief braided together.
The lead Hound's eyes flicked to Astra's throat wrap—interest sharpening. "That phrase," he said softly. "Not in registry."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Back off."
The Hound didn't.
He stepped closer, and his voice dropped a fraction—too controlled to be kind.
"Captain Rusk Dain will want the handler," he said.
Astra felt the collar pulse at handler like it was a title it wanted her to wear.
She forced her breathing slow.
"Tell Rusk," Astra said, voice flat, "to file his request."
The Hound's mouth twitched. "He already did."
Astra's interface flickered—cold and immediate.
MILITARY LINK: COMMAND MESSAGE RECEIVEDFROM: CAPTAIN RUSK DAINSUBJECT: HANDLER MARKER — TRANSFER TO COMMAND OVERSIGHTSTATUS: PENDING
Astra's blood went ice.
Kael saw her face change. "What."
Astra swallowed. "Rusk is trying to transfer my handler role."
Orin swore. "Of course he is."
Juno's eyes widened. "Can he do that."
Dorian's silk laugh curled warm and delighted. Let him. Then I'll pull it from him. Everyone wants the leash you picked up.
The lead Hound lifted his chin slightly, listening to the command channel again. Then he spoke, calm and final:
"Kael Raithe," he said. "Step away from the subject. She's being reassigned."
Kael's body twitched—tiny involuntary movement, like the command found his reflexes and tugged.
Kael clenched his jaw so hard the muscle jumped.
"No," Kael said.
The Hound's eyes narrowed. "That wasn't a request."
Kael's gaze stayed on Astra. Not Rusk. Not the Hound.
Her.
"Tell me," Kael said, rough. "Now."
Astra's mind raced. If Rusk took "command oversight" of her handler role, the system would stop treating her as a temporary anomaly and start treating her as an official tool.
Which meant her consent gates could become "optional" under military definitions of safety.
Which meant Kael's body could become borrowable again—through her.
Astra's throat burned.
She chose voice over panic.
"Consent," Astra whispered, close, urgent, "to me writing one line into the handler role itself: non-transferable without my spoken yes."
Kael's eyes darkened. "That hurts you."
Astra's mouth tightened. "Everything hurts."
Kael's jaw flexed. Then he nodded once—sharp, chosen.
"Yes," Kael said. "One line."
Astra's pulse kicked.
She opened the handler role clause space—hers, ugly, humming—and carved fast:
HANDLER ROLE TRANSFER REQUIRES: ASTRA VEY SPOKEN "YES" (PRIVATE) — OTHERWISE INVALID
Pain slammed through Astra's skull. Harder than before. Like the system punished her for telling it no.
Her vision whitened.
Her knees threatened to give.
Kael's hand caught her at the waist—warm and steady. Not throat. Not collar.
"Consent?" he rasped.
Astra forced her eyes open and nodded. "Yes."
The interface flickered.
CLAUSE COMMITTEDTRACE: 92% (CRITICAL)
Orin's voice went grim. "You're going to drop."
Astra tasted blood. "Not yet."
The lead Hound's gaze sharpened, like he sensed the clause snap into place. "You're defying command."
Astra lifted her chin. "I'm defining consent."
The Hound stepped closer, and for the first time his calm cracked into something like irritation.
"You don't get to teach us ethics," he said. "You get contained."
He moved—fast.
Not toward Astra.
Toward Kael.
Because Kael was the easier handle.
Kael's muscles tensed, ready to strike—then stopped, disciplined, because striking a fellow Hound in a conduit chamber would light the whole city.
Astra felt the handler panel pulse again, eager:
RECOMMENDED: SUBDUE HOSTILE / RESTRAIN HOUND / SECURE SUBJECT
Dorian's voice purred. Do it. Make him kneel to you instead of them.
Astra's stomach turned.
She didn't want to subdue Kael.
She wanted to keep him with her.
Kael's voice came rough, urgent. "Astra—ask me."
Astra's breath hitched.
He was giving her the key in the middle of the lock.
"Kael," Astra whispered, eyes hard, "do you consent to moving with me even if your crest screams otherwise."
Kael didn't hesitate.
"Yes," he said. "I choose."
The words hit Astra like heat—sharp, dangerous relief.
The system heard them too.
Her interface flickered, recalculating.
VOLUNTARY AFFIRMATION DETECTED: "I CHOOSE"NOTE: MOTOR SUGGESTION REDUCED (TEMP)
Good.
Astra leaned into Kael's space—close enough to feel his breath, not close enough to kiss—and spoke the next instruction like a vow.
"Then move," Astra whispered. "With me."
Kael moved.
Not yanked by a handler tether.
Not dragged by command law.
He moved on the word choose.
The lead Hound's hand shot out to grab Kael's shoulder.
Juno's disk screamed again—dirty hum biting the Hound's crest read.
Orin slammed his scar-sigil, and dead sand burst up in a thicker cloud, swallowing the seam light and turning the chamber into a gritty fog.
Astra coughed, eyes burning.
Kael's hand tightened at her waist, guiding her through the fog without pulling her throat into danger.
"Left," Orin snarled. "Now!"
They ran.
Boots scraped behind them—one set, controlled, relentless.
The lead Hound didn't cough.
He didn't stumble.
He followed like a machine that didn't need lungs.
Astra's trace buzzed hot, threatening. Her vision tunneled.
Kael felt it. His voice dropped close, intimate and fierce.
"Stay with me," he growled. "Don't you dare fall."
Heat flared low in Astra's belly despite the terror—because the way he said it felt like possession without ownership, like a claim made of care.
Astra clenched her jaw. "Consent," she rasped. "You don't get to dare me."
Kael's breath hitched. "Then don't make me beg."
Astra almost laughed. Almost kissed him.
She didn't.
She ran.
They hit a junction where the tunnel split into three arteries, each carved with old sigil lines. Orin skidded to a stop and slapped a scar-sigil on the left wall.
"Here," he hissed. "Old Guild maintenance throat."
"Guild?" Juno hissed, panicked.
"Better than Hounds," Orin snapped.
They dove into the left artery.
Astra's interface flickered—signal changed. Cleaner for a heartbeat, then smeared.
The witness seal under her cloth wrap vibrated, thrilled and offended at once.
Behind them, the lead Hound's boots hit the junction.
Silence—one breath—then his voice carried through the tunnels, calm as law:
"Kael Raithe. Stop."
Kael's shoulders twitched.
Astra felt it—command weight trying to hook into him again.
Kael's jaw clenched. His voice came out rough, furious.
"No."
The word held.
Barely.
Then the Hound spoke again, and this time he didn't use Kael's name like a request.
He used it like a key.
"Kael," he said. "Recall."
Kael's knees trembled.
Astra's throat burned.
Her handler panel pulsed, eager to "help." Her trace screamed warning.
Kael looked at her—raw, furious—and his voice broke on honesty.
"Astra," he rasped, "ask me. Tell me what to do."
Heat punched through Astra's belly—ugly and intimate.
She leaned close enough to feel his breath and whispered the only truth that mattered:
"Choose me," Astra said.
Kael's eyes darkened.
"I do," Kael said, rough. "I choose you."
The system heard it. The conduit hated it.
The lead Hound's boots quickened—closing.
Orin threw his shoulder into a rusted hatch and it buckled inward, revealing a vertical drop with a ladder bolted to wet stone.
"Down!" Orin hissed. "Fast!"
Juno went first, then Orin, then Astra.
Kael grabbed Astra's forearm to steady her descent—asked with his eyes, then held when she nodded.
They dropped rung by rung into colder dark.
Above, the hatch shuddered—something heavy hitting it.
The lead Hound.
Astra's interface flickered, and the military link message from Rusk pulsed again, irritated by delay.
COMMAND OVERSIGHT TRANSFER: ESCALATINGREQUIREMENT: HANDLER SPOKEN "YES" (PRIVATE) — PENDINGNOTE: COMMAND MAY ATTEMPT "SAFE PRIVATE CHANNEL" VIA CUSTODIAN LINK
Astra's stomach dropped.
Safe private channel.
A trick.
A forced "private" space created by military authority, declared private so her clause would accept it.
Kael climbed down after her, jaw clenched.
He saw the change in her face. "What now."
Astra swallowed blood. "Rusk will try to fabricate privacy through your crest."
Kael's eyes went cold. "He won't."
Astra's laugh was harsh. "He will. He's command."
Kael's voice dropped, intimate and lethal. "Then we break command."
Astra's heart kicked.
She hadn't dared say it.
Hearing it in Kael's mouth—chosen—was like watching a chain snap.
They reached the bottom: a low chamber with old pipes and a shallow channel of dark water running through the floor.
Not the Null Chapel moat.
But close enough to make the word feel like fate.
Orin slapped a scar-sigil, muffling the air again. "We bought a minute," he hissed. "Maybe."
Juno panted, eyes wide. "Lyra—"
Astra's stomach dropped. Lyra wasn't here. She hadn't followed. Or she'd been cut off.
Kael's gaze hardened. "We can't go back."
Astra swallowed. "I know."
Heat and grief tangled in Astra's ribs—because Lyra was trouble, but she was also a blade, and blades were hard to replace.
Astra's interface pulsed again—cold, patient.
SAFE PRIVATE CHANNEL OFFERED (MILITARY)SENDER: CAPTAIN RUSK DAINPROMPT: SPEAK "YES" TO CONFIRM HANDLER OVERSIGHT TRANSFER
Astra's blood went ice.
The system was offering her a "private" channel.
Manufactured.
Branded.
And all it wanted was one word.
Kael stepped close, hands hovering at Astra's waist and forearm—asking with his eyes.
Astra nodded once.
Kael held her gently, grounding her.
His voice was rough at her ear. "Don't say it."
Astra's throat burned. "If I don't, they'll escalate."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Let them."
Astra closed her eyes for half a heartbeat—felt the dark water's damp air, Kael's heat, the hum of her seal under cloth. Felt the system's hunger for neat hierarchy.
Then she opened her eyes and made the choice the way she always did now:
Not with fear.
With angles.
She leaned close to Kael's mouth—so close the almost-kiss cut through the panic—and whispered, low and fierce:
"Black water."
Kael answered instantly, rough. "Black water."
Astra turned her chin slightly toward the dark channel on the floor and spoke clearly—recorded by nothing but their breath.
"I will not confirm military privacy," Astra said. "Not without real darkness."
The interface paused.
Then it changed tone—less polite.
WARNING: COMMAND MAY INITIATE CONTAINMENT IF NONCOMPLIANT
Kael's breath warmed Astra's hair. "Good," he murmured. "Let them come."
And as if the Dominion heard him, the air above the chamber shuddered—clean pressure testing the muffler like a pen tapping a door.
Orin went pale. "They found the hatch."
Juno lifted a disk with shaking hands.
Astra's trace buzzed hot. Her handler panel pulsed, eager to offer "solutions."
And in the center of Astra's vision, Captain Rusk Dain's prompt stayed perfectly calm, perfectly patient, perfectly lethal—
SPEAK "YES."