Ten seconds felt generous until it started eating itself.
Astra saw the countdown in the center of her vision like a clean blade held over her throat. The collar at her neck pulsed—hungry, eager—as if it loved the idea of being "returned" to a place that would finally tell it what it was.
PROXY OWNER CLAUSE: "RETURN TO OWNER" ENABLEDTRIGGER: SUBJECT DISTRESS + EXTERNAL PURSUITDESTINATION: REGISTERED SAFE HOUSE (IMPERIAL HOUNDS)AUTO-EXECUTE IN: 00:00:10
Orin's muffler sigil thickened the air, dead sand grit settling into Astra's lungs, but the prompt didn't care. It didn't blink. It didn't bargain. It simply counted down like the Dominion's heartbeat.
Kael stood close—too close, not close enough—his hand at Astra's waist steadying her, his other hand hovering as if his own fingers might betray him again. His eyes were lethal with intent and sick with disgust.
He hated the word Owner more than any threat.
Astra's throat burned under the damp cloth wrap. The witness seal beneath it vibrated—offended and excited in equal measure, like a creature that wanted clean signal and hated what clean signal meant.
Behind them, the junction's stone shuddered. Pressure tested the seams. A patient force that didn't panic.
Hounds.
Juno lifted a disk, knuckles white, breath coming fast. Orin's face was tight with calculation, not fear.
Kael's jaw clenched. He looked at Astra like he was taking a vow in the middle of a war.
"Ask me," he rasped. "Tell me what to do."
Astra swallowed blood and forced her voice steady, close enough to be intimate and sharp enough to cut.
"Kael," she said, "do you consent to denying the auto-return even if it hurts you."
His answer was immediate. Chosen.
"Yes," Kael said, rough. "I choose."
The countdown in Astra's vision hit 00:00:05.
A new command line unfolded in Kael's shared space—Astra saw it through their ugly bind like a window opening in a cell:
OWNER PROXY ACTION REQUIREDOPTION A: CONFIRM RETURN (SAFE ROUTE)OPTION B: DENY RETURN (BREACH)WARNING: DENY = CORRECTION
Correction. The Dominion's favorite word for pain.
Kael's lips parted. His throat worked like he was swallowing a chain.
Astra stepped closer—shoulder brushing his chest—grounding him the way he'd grounded her. She kept her hands away from his crest casing. Away from the handler mark. She refused to touch the system's handles.
"Black water," Astra whispered.
Kael's eyes snapped to hers.
"Black water," he answered, voice rough and steady.
Astra's pulse kicked—heat and fear braided tight. She wanted to press her mouth to his and make him forget the count.
She didn't.
She made the moment a weapon.
"Say it out loud," Astra murmured. "Deny return."
Kael's jaw clenched. He inhaled—then spoke like he was spitting blood on a flag.
"I deny return," Kael said clearly.
For a heartbeat, the world held still.
Then the collar on Astra's throat pulsed hard—angry, disappointed—like it had been promised home and slapped away.
The interface updated, cold and bright.
AUTO-RETURN: CANCELLEDSTATUS: OWNER PROXY BREACH RECORDEDCORRECTION: INITIATING
Kael's body jerked as if an invisible hook had punched into his spine.
Pain didn't announce itself gently. It hit him like a rifle butt to the ribs—sharp, deep, sudden enough to steal breath.
Kael's face went white.
His hand at Astra's waist tightened involuntarily.
Astra felt it and forced herself not to flinch from him like he'd become dangerous. She knew that tightening wasn't ownership.
It was his nervous system screaming.
"Kael," Astra hissed, "breathe."
His teeth bared slightly. "I am—"
The correction hit again—like a second hook.
Kael's knees flexed, trying to dip into recall posture without permission. His throat crest glimmered faintly, the military conduit in the walls echoing the command shape like a choir.
Astra's interface flickered a warning:
CORRECTION PATH: COMPLIANCE POSTURE + COLLAR STABILIZENOTE: PROXY OWNER REQUIRED TO SECURE SUBJECT
Secure subject. Stabilize collar. Bring her home.
Rusk's voice slid through the thin link that dead sand couldn't fully choke—calm, pleased.
"Good," he murmured. "You denied the return. That means you still think you have choices."
Kael's jaw clenched hard enough to creak. "Rusk."
Rusk's tone stayed soft, predatory. "Owner proxy breach requires correction. You'll correct it."
Kael's body twitched again, and this time his hand—his left—lifted slightly toward Astra's throat without him meaning it.
Astra's blood went ice.
Not because Kael was near her collar.
Because the system was trying to make him touch it.
External contact. Threat exception. "Safety."
Astra grabbed his wrist fast and yanked it down.
"Look at me," she snapped.
Kael's eyes jerked to hers—furious, ashamed, fighting.
"I'm here," he rasped.
Astra kept her voice low and intimate, the kind of tone that could be seduction or command depending on who held the knife.
"Choose," Astra whispered.
Kael's fingers trembled. Then he forced them to still.
"I choose," Kael said, rough. "I choose her."
Astra's interface flickered:
VOLUNTARY AFFIRMATION DETECTEDCORRECTION SEVERITY: REDUCED (TEMP)
Orin exhaled a curse of relief that wasn't relief at all. "That bought you half a breath. Move."
Juno's disk hummed louder. "They're coming."
The stone behind them cracked. Clean air slipped in. A wedge of light knifed across the junction.
The lead Hound stepped into view, calm as law, crest bright at the throat. His eyes took in Kael first—then Astra's damp throat wrap—and paused, interest sharpening.
"Owner proxy breach," the Hound said, like he was reading a report. "Correction initiated. Good."
Astra's stomach turned.
Rusk's voice purred through the link, approving. "Contain them. I want them intact."
The Hound's gaze fixed on Kael. "Secure your subject."
Kael's jaw clenched. "No."
The Hound didn't react like it was defiance. He reacted like it was a malfunction.
He moved—fast.
Not toward Astra. Toward Kael's wrist, the handler mark, the easiest handle to seize.
Orin snapped, "Juno—now!"
Juno threw her disk at the Hound's boots. It hit and screamed, dirty hum biting into the conduit's clean line.
The Hound flinched—a fraction. Enough.
Orin slammed a scar-sigil into the wall seam beside the junction. Dead sand surged in a gritty cloud, fuzzing the clean wedge of light.
Astra coughed, eyes burning.
Kael shifted his body between Astra and the Hound, shoulder-first, controlled, no hands to Astra's throat, no collar touch. He took the impact when the Hound lunged again.
The collision thudded through Astra's ribs.
Kael grunted—pain already in him from correction, now layered with force.
But he held.
Astra's stomach tightened with heat—ugly and fierce—because he was using his body as a wall without making her body the reason he lost himself.
"Orin!" Kael snapped, breath harsh. "Door!"
Orin's face tightened. "Working!"
The wall seam shuddered—old mechanisms groaning, reluctant to give mercy.
Juno grabbed Astra's sleeve and yanked. "Move!"
Astra stumbled toward the opening seam, trace buzzing so hot it felt like insects under her skin.
Kael's hand found her waist again—asked with his eyes even now, a split-second question in the middle of a fight.
Astra nodded once.
Kael held her steady, guiding her through the shifting stone.
Behind them, the Hound's calm voice cut through the grit fog.
"Kael Raithe," he said. "Stop."
Kael's shoulders twitched.
Astra felt the command weight tug at him like a hook in muscle.
Kael clenched his jaw and didn't stop.
"Kael," Astra whispered, close enough to be heard through breath and grit. "Black water."
Kael answered, rough. "Black water."
The system hated that phrase. It couldn't file it. It couldn't own it. And Kael's body responded to it anyway—human over hardware.
They dove through the seam.
Stone snapped shut behind them like a jaw.
Darkness swallowed clean light.
For a heartbeat, there was only the sound of boots on wet stone and Astra's own blood in her ears.
Then Kael staggered.
Not from the run.
From the correction.
His hand tightened at Astra's waist, not to claim her—just to keep himself upright.
Astra turned and caught his forearm, steadying him back.
"Consent," Kael rasped, voice tight with pain.
Astra's throat burned. "Yes."
Kael's breath shuddered. "It's… pulling."
Astra swallowed. "I know."
Orin kept moving, voice low and ugly. "No stopping. You stop, you die."
Juno glanced back, eyes wild. "Where are we going."
Orin didn't look at her. "Somewhere the conduits don't remember his name."
Kael's jaw clenched. "They remember everywhere."
Astra felt that truth like a bruise.
The passage sloped down into older Underchain—wetter, colder, dead sand thicker. The air tasted like damp iron and old secrets. Scar-sigils etched into the stone glimmered faintly, Underchain craftsmanship ugly and clever.
Orin slapped a muffler sigil every few meters. The air thickened in layers, choking signal like cloth over a mouth.
But the proxy owner role wasn't a signal to the outside.
It was inside Kael.
Astra's interface flickered:
OWNER PROXY: ACTIVECORRECTION: PERSISTENT (LOW)NOTE: COMMAND OVERSIGHT WATCHING