Astra stepped between them, palms open. "Enough."
Both men went still.
Astra looked at Orin. "You want my watermark pattern? You get a filtered version."
Orin's eyes narrowed. "Filtered."
Astra's mouth curved thinly. "Scrub the owner channel signatures. Leave the noise shape. Enough to build jammers. Not enough to sign my name."
Orin stared at her for a beat, then laughed softly. "You're negotiating with a knife at your throat."
Astra's gaze didn't blink. "I've done worse."
Orin exhaled. "Fine. Filtered."
Juno's eyes flicked between them, amused. "Look at you two. Domestic."
Kael didn't move, but Astra felt his stare on her—sharp, protective, furious that she was trading pieces of herself for survival again.
Astra ignored it.
She needed the Ghost Command.
She needed a knife in her sleeve.
Orin held the coin out.
Astra didn't take it immediately.
She looked at Kael first.
Consent, even for tools, even for lies.
"Are you okay with this," Astra asked quietly. "Me giving him a filtered watermark."
Kael's jaw flexed. His eyes flicked to Orin, then back to Astra. "No."
Astra waited.
Kael exhaled slowly, controlled. "But we don't have choices. We have angles."
Astra's mouth curved faintly. "That's a yes."
Kael's gaze darkened. "That's not permission to do it again later."
Heat flared under Astra's skin at the possessive edge in his tone—then she recognized it for what it was: fear.
Fear of losing her.
Fear of being used through her again.
Astra nodded once. "Noted."
She took the coin from Orin.
The metal was cold. Heavy. It felt wrong in her palm, like it wanted to be a rule.
Her interface flickered, drawn to it like a magnet.
PATCH AVAILABLE: GHOST COMMANDREQUIREMENT: KEY DETECTEDCOST: TRACE + PAINNOTE: STORES ONE COMMAND — RELEASE LATER
Astra swallowed.
Another patch would spike trace.
But this wasn't indulgence.
This was survival engineering.
Kael's voice came low beside her, deliberate—almost gentle in its restraint. "If you install it, do it once. Clean."
Astra nodded. "I will."
Orin leaned against the table, watching. "Remember our deal. Filtered watermark."
Astra didn't answer.
She opened the patch prompt.
The pain hit immediately—sharp and invasive, like her nervous system resented being edited again.
Astra's breath hissed. Her knees softened.
Kael moved closer without touching her collar, his body forming a wall at her side. His voice dropped, conditional, steady.
"Astra," he said, "if your vision whites out, you will lock your jaw and breathe until it clears."
Astra clung to the sound of him like a rope.
She breathed.
The interface steadied.
GHOST COMMAND: INSTALLEDTRACE: 69.8%WATERMARK: ACTIVE (NEW LAYER)STORED COMMAND SLOT: EMPTY
Orin let out a low whistle. "You're flirting with audit lock."
Juno muttered, "She lives there."
Kael's jaw clenched. "We have one slot."
Astra wiped sweat from her brow with shaking fingers. "I know."
Kael's eyes flicked to his own wrist crest—then away. "Use it to stop the extraction."
Orin laughed softly. "You can't store 'stop Dorian.' It's not that simple."
Astra's mouth curved, grim. "It is, if I don't target Dorian."
Orin's eyes narrowed. "Explain."
Astra's gaze slid to Kael. "The system is draining Kael's authorization through the collar link. That means the link is acting like a conduit."
Kael's eyes sharpened. "So we jam the conduit."
Astra nodded. "We store one command that my collar will obey later—one that forces my system to reject external pulls on the anchor link."
Orin's smile widened. "You want a delayed self-rule."
Astra's throat tightened. "Yes. One I can release at the worst possible moment."
Juno's grin sharpened. "I like her."
Kael's expression didn't soften. "What's the command."
Astra stared at the interface, thinking in the system's language.
Simple.
Protocol-shaped.
Not rebellion.
A rule the collar could interpret as safety.
She selected the Ghost Command slot.
STORE COMMAND: READY
Astra typed it in her mind, the way she'd learned to write herself—conditional and cruelly clear:
IF ANCHOR EXTRACTION DETECTED → ISOLATE ANCHOR LINK UNTIL SAFE SIGNAL
Isolate.
Not refuse.
Not break.
Just isolate.
A temporary sever that could turn a pull line into dead air.
Astra stored it.
Pain sparked—lighter than installation, but still real.
Trace ticked up.
TRACE: 70.6%
Astra's stomach dropped.
Kael's jaw clenched. "That's too high."
Orin's smile turned thin. "Audit lock is going to notice."
Astra swallowed. "Not if I don't spike again."
Orin laughed once. "That's a big if."
Juno's head tilted toward the door. "Someone's outside."
Everyone went still.
The Saltroom's silence deepened. The lamp flame trembled.
Orin moved like a man who'd survived too many raids. He pressed two fingers to the door seam, listening.
Kael didn't draw a weapon. He didn't have to. His body shifted into position—between Astra and the door, even though he was the one being drained.
Astra's throat tightened with heat and fury at that instinct.
Astra's interface flickered again, almost gleeful.
ANCHOR EXTRACTION: RESUMING (LINE FOUND)DRAIN RATE: 0.9xESTIMATED TIME: 00:04:20
The Saltroom's grit wasn't enough.
Dorian was adjusting.
Learning.
Orin's face tightened. "They found the door."
Juno's fingers tightened around another disk. "Church or Hounds?"
Orin hissed. "Neither."
A voice came through the door seam, soft as velvet over steel.
"Astra."
Astra's blood went cold.
Not Dorian.
Not Seraphine.
Lyra Sable.
Orin's expression shifted—annoyance threaded with something like respect. "Of course."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Lyra."
Astra's throat tightened. "You're here."
Lyra's voice was calm, amused. "You're late."
Juno muttered, "Everyone's late except the people trying to kill us."
Orin didn't move to open the door. "State your business."
Lyra chuckled softly. "Your business, Orin. My business, Astra. The Church's business, everyone's problem."
Kael's voice went flat. "You routed us here."
Lyra didn't deny it. "I did."
Astra's stomach tightened. "Why."
A pause.
Then Lyra's voice slid in, softer. "Because you needed a patch you couldn't steal from the Dominion."
Orin's mouth twisted. "And because you like playing boards."
Lyra's laugh was quiet. "And because Dorian is escalating faster than your little tunnels can hide."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Open the door."
Orin didn't. "Not without terms."
Lyra sighed theatrically. "Fine. Term one: I'm not alone."
Juno's eyes narrowed. "Of course."
Lyra continued, as if discussing weather. "Term two: you have three minutes before Kael's authorization drain becomes irreversible."
Astra's breath caught.
Her interface flickered—as if embarrassed it hadn't told her.
ANCHOR EXTRACTION: CRITICAL THRESHOLD APPROACHINGNOTE: DRAIN > 12% MAY DAMAGE CREST PATHWAYS
Twelve percent.
Astra's stomach dropped. "How much now."
The interface answered.
EXTRACTION PROGRESS: 7.4%
Kael's face went pale for half a second. He swallowed it.
Orin's voice was sharp. "Open the door."
Juno hissed, "You said you wouldn't."
Orin snapped, "I said not without terms. Terms just arrived."
He pressed the scar-sigil.
The iron door creaked open.
Lyra Sable stood in the corridor outside like she belonged there—hood up, eyes bright, a faint smile that never reached her soul. She wore practical clothes that still somehow looked like seduction disguised as survival.
Behind her stood two Underchain silhouettes Astra didn't recognize—armed, silent, loyal to Lyra's coin or her secrets.
Lyra's gaze slid over Astra first—throat, face, eyes—then to Kael. Her smile sharpened at the sight of the sunburst residue at his wrist.
"Oh," Lyra murmured. "Seraphine got a taste."
Kael's voice was ice. "Speak."
Lyra lifted her hands slightly, open-palmed. "Relax. I'm not here to take him."
Astra's mouth curved bitterly. "Just to sell him?"
Lyra's eyes flicked to Astra, amused. "If I wanted to sell you, Astra, you'd already be in silk."
Astra's collar pulsed as if it liked the word silk.
Lyra stepped into the Saltroom without flinching at the smell of salt and old iron. She looked at the black water channels with mild contempt.
"This will slow the drain," Lyra said, nodding to the room, "but it won't stop it. Dorian didn't authorize recall. He authorized extraction. Different tool. Different cruelty."
Orin folded his arms. "We guessed."
Lyra's gaze slid to Astra's face. "Did you."
Astra didn't blink. "Explain it."
Lyra's smile softened into something almost kind—almost. "Extraction removes crest authority and reroutes it. Dorian is trying to pull Kael's authorization out of his wrist crest and into your collar's owner channel—so he can command Kael through you even when your masks hold."
Astra's blood ran cold.
Kael's jaw clenched. "He already can."
Lyra shook her head. "Not cleanly. Not yet. He wants a direct tap."
Astra's throat tightened. "A tap that makes me his leash."
Lyra's eyes gleamed. "Exactly."
Heat flared in Astra's chest, furious and nauseating.
Kael's eyes were dark with rage. "How do we stop it."
Lyra's gaze flicked to Orin, then to Juno, then back to Astra with a slow, measured look.
"You already installed Ghost Command," Lyra said.
Orin's brows lifted. "How do you—"
Lyra's smile sharpened. "Because your little room hummed when she did it. And because Astra's eyes just got heavier."
Astra's jaw tightened.
Lyra stepped closer, voice softer. "You can isolate the anchor link," she said. "Temporarily sever the conduit. But if you do it without a replacement anchor, your collar will panic."
Astra's throat went cold. "Panic means force-lock."
Lyra nodded. "Or worse. Auto-surrender. The collar will try to stabilize itself by accepting whichever claim feels cleanest."
Kael's jaw flexed. "Dorian."
Lyra's smile turned thin. "Or Seraphine, if her residue is strong enough to convince the collar sanctity equals safety."
Juno muttered, "Great choices."
Astra's hands curled. "So what's the replacement."
Lyra's eyes slid to Kael.
A slow smile.
Kael's body stiffened. "No."
Lyra's smile widened. "Not your hand. Not your throat-touch. Your voice."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "We've been using voice."
Lyra's gaze flicked to Astra. "Not enough. The collar listens to protocol. It wants a hierarchy. Astra can't erase Dorian's owner channel. But she can drown it in competing stabilizers long enough to isolate the link."
Orin snorted. "And you're here to sell us the script."
Lyra's eyes flashed. "I'm here because if Dorian gets a clean tap, the Underchain loses its best future weapon."
Astra's mouth curved bitter. "So this is about you."
Lyra's smile was unbothered. "Everything is about me. But this is also about you."
Lyra stepped closer to Astra, close enough that her perfume—spice and smoke—cut through salt and iron.
Kael tensed instantly, like his body had decided Lyra was a threat even if his mind hadn't authorized it.
Astra felt it.
Heat flared—jealousy's ugly cousin, sharp and immediate.
Lyra's gaze flicked to Kael's tension with open amusement. "He's possessive."
Kael's voice went low and lethal. "I'm alert."
Lyra laughed softly. "Sure."
Astra didn't step back from Lyra. She refused to let Kael's tension decide her distance. Consent was choice. She chose to stand her ground.
Lyra's eyes met Astra's. "If you want to keep him," Lyra murmured, "you need a counter-ritual."
Astra's throat tightened. "We're not doing rituals."
Lyra's smile sharpened. "Everything in this empire is a ritual. Dominion calls them protocols. Church calls them sanctity. Underchain calls them tricks."
Astra swallowed. "What's the trick."
Lyra lifted one finger. "You release your stored Ghost Command at the exact moment the extraction line peaks."
Orin's eyes narrowed. "Timing."
Lyra nodded. "And you replace the severed conduit with an internal stabilizer rule. Something the collar will accept as safety while the owner channel screams."
Astra's interface flickered as if it liked the idea and hated it at the same time.
GHOST COMMAND: STOREDRELEASE: MANUAL