Silence.
Then a voice answered from the dark, amused and calm.
"You're noisy for a Hound."
Astra's stomach tightened.
Not Lyra.
Not Rusk.
A man's voice—dry, familiar in the way rumors were familiar.
Kael's posture tightened. "Orin Vale."
A figure stepped into the weak torchlight—lean, sharp-eyed, dressed in practical dark cloth that didn't belong to any official uniform. A crest glimmered faintly at his wrist, but not Dominion style. Something modified. Something that had learned to hide.
Orin smiled like he'd been waiting for this exact disaster.
"Hound Raithe," he said. "And the famous glitch."
Astra's throat went cold. "Famous?"
Orin's eyes flicked to her collar with open interest. "The Lantern District has ears. The Church has eyes. The Guild has knives. And House Veyrn has money."
His gaze slid to Kael. "Congratulations. You've offended all of them in one night."
Kael's voice was flat. "Move aside."
Orin didn't. "I can, sure."
He tilted his head, studying Astra's face. "But first I need to know if you're worth sheltering."
Astra's hands curled. "I didn't ask for shelter."
Orin's smile deepened. "No. You asked for survival. Shelter is just survival with walls."
Kael stepped forward, authority in his posture even without speaking. "If you're Underchain, you don't block exits."
Orin chuckled. "If I'm Underchain, I block whatever I want."
Astra felt Kael's tension spike.
And with it, her collar pulsed, eager to interpret the pressure as an excuse to clamp down again.
Astra stepped around Kael—just enough to be seen, not enough to be reckless.
Kael's hand snapped to her wrist. "Astra."
Her name was warning and anchor.
Astra didn't pull away. She simply looked back at him and spoke softly. "Trust me."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Don't make me."
Astra smiled, just a little. "Then don't. Let me make myself."
She turned to Orin, voice calm. "You want to know if I'm worth sheltering? Ask the right question."
Orin's brows lifted. "Oh?"
Astra tilted her chin, exposing the collar without touching it. "Ask me what I can offer."
Orin's eyes gleamed. "Fine. What can you offer."
Astra's interface flickered, faint but obedient. Trace sat in the corner like a threat with a number.
She chose her words carefully—conditional, protocol-shaped.
"I can offer you leverage," Astra said. "Against House Veyrn. Against the Crestwright Guild. Against the Church."
Orin laughed softly. "That's a lot of enemies."
Astra's mouth curved. "That's why I'm valuable."
Orin stepped closer, slow, and Astra felt Kael's body tighten behind her like a drawn blade. Orin noticed. He smiled wider.
"You're bold," Orin said. "Do you know what Underchain does to bold girls in collars."
Astra didn't flinch. "Underchain does what it's paid to do."
Orin's eyes narrowed with amusement. "We're not paid."
Astra leaned in half an inch, letting her voice drop into dangerous intimacy—seduction used as strategy, not surrender.
"Everyone is paid," she murmured. "Sometimes in coin. Sometimes in pain. Sometimes in silence."
Orin's smile faltered—just a fraction. A crack.
Astra pressed it.
"I can pay," she said. "But not with coin."
Orin's gaze drifted to Kael. "With what, then."
Astra didn't look back at Kael. She could feel him anyway—heat, restraint, readiness.
"With access," Astra said. "To a system that's starting to misbehave."
Orin's eyes sharpened. "You can't write."
Astra's mouth curved. "I can break assumptions."
Orin stared at her for a long beat.
Then he turned his head slightly, listening to something farther down the tunnel. Footsteps. Pursuit. Getting closer.
Orin exhaled like a man deciding to gamble.
"Fine," he said. "Come."
Kael didn't move immediately. "Why."
Orin smiled without warmth. "Because if I leave you here, House Veyrn will turn the underways into a slaughterhouse. And that's bad for business."
"You said you're not paid," Astra said.
Orin's eyes flicked to her. "I'm paid in freedom. I like keeping it."
He stepped aside, revealing the broken archway Astra had smelled earlier—smoke, damp cloth, hidden life.
Kael pulled Astra forward, but as they passed Orin, Orin's hand lifted—open palm, a gesture that stopped Kael with no force at all.
One quiet boundary.
"Only one condition," Orin said.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Speak."
Orin's gaze slid to Astra. "If the Church shows up, you don't drag them to my door. If House Veyrn shows up, you don't drag them either."
Astra's throat tightened. "And if they follow anyway."
Orin smiled, slow. "Then you'll learn what Underchain does to people who hunt in our tunnels."
Kael's hand tightened on Astra's wrist. "We don't have time."
Orin's eyes glittered. "You do. Because the Hounds behind you are three turns away."
Astra froze. "How do you know."
Orin tapped his temple. "Because Underchain listens."
Then he leaned in, close enough that Astra could smell smoke and ink on him, and he said quietly—soft, sharp, a twist of a knife:
"And because Lyra Sable told me you'd come."
Astra's blood went cold.
Kael's head snapped toward Orin. "Lyra."
Orin's smile held. "She plays a wide board."
Astra's collar pulsed, as if enjoying the betrayal's aftertaste.
Astra forced her breath steady. "Did she sell us."
Orin shrugged. "She routed you."
The same word.
Redirected.
Routed.
A pattern.
Astra's mind raced, connecting the sealed doors, the timed locks, the way Lyra always seemed to be exactly where the board needed pressure.
Orin stepped back, gesturing toward the broken archway. "Move. Decide what Lyra is later."
Kael shoved Astra into the opening, and they slipped into a narrow corridor lined with hanging cloth and crude lamps. The air smelled like people—sweat, smoke, spice, survival. Hidden rooms opened into deeper dark, voices low, eyes watching through cracks.
Underchain territory.
Kael kept Astra close, his body angled to shield her.
Astra's collar pulsed again—weak, angry. RETURN clawed at her nerves, but the interference here made it stutter. The system was still hunting for a stable voice to obey.
Orin led them through a twisting route that felt deliberately confusing, then into a small room with a low table, a lantern, and a single door reinforced with iron.
He shut it behind them and pressed a palm to a scar-sigil.
The air shifted.
Astra's interface dimmed sharply, like the room had swallowed her signal.
SIGNAL: MINIMALRECALL PATH: SEVERED (TEMP)AUDIT: SEARCHING…
Astra sagged against the wall, breath shaking.
Kael moved instantly, crouching in front of her. His hand hovered near her throat, then stopped—waiting.
Even now.
Astra met his eyes and nodded once.
Kael touched her collar lightly.
Warmth spread through Astra's nerves. The tremor in her hands eased.
Astra exhaled, and the sound came out too intimate for a room full of danger.
Orin watched them, eyebrows raised. "Cute."
Kael's voice went flat. "Don't."
Orin smirked. "Touching her calms the collar. That's useful."
Kael's gaze sharpened. "It's not for you."
Orin's smile widened. "Everything is for someone."
Astra swallowed, pushing herself upright. "What now."
Orin leaned back against the table like he owned time. "Now you tell me what you are."
Astra's mouth went dry. "I told you. An anomaly."
Orin shook his head. "No. What you want."
Astra stared at him, then glanced at Kael.
Kael's hand still rested lightly at her throat—steady, warm, controlled. He wasn't squeezing. He wasn't claiming.
He was anchoring, because he'd chosen to.
Heat curled low in Astra's belly—dangerous, alive. She wanted to lean into his touch. She wanted to bite his thumb just to see if he'd break.
Instead, she used the heat the way she'd always used it.
As fuel.
"I want my collar to lie," Astra said. "I want the system to stop deciding my body is property."
Orin's eyes gleamed. "That's not a want. That's a war."
Astra smiled thinly. "Then I want to win."
Orin's gaze slid to Kael's wrist crest. "You brought a Dominion leash into Underchain. Bold."
Kael's jaw tightened. "I didn't bring it. It's attached."
Orin chuckled. "Fair."
Then Orin reached into his coat and pulled out a small slate—sigil-etched, not Dominion style. Underchain craft. He placed it on the table.
"We can hide you," he said. "For a price."
Astra's eyes narrowed. "There's always a price."
Orin nodded. "Mine is simple."
He tapped the slate once. It glowed faintly, showing a crude map with a single marked point—an old chapel symbol over a tunnel node.
Astra's stomach tightened.
Orin's voice stayed calm. "The Church is moving on Underchain routes. Seraphine Lume isn't just hunting you. She's mapping us."
Kael's eyes went cold. "Prove it."
Orin's smile sharpened. "You think a Sister-Matriarch walked into House Veyrn's private room without a plan? She's using your chaos to take territory."
Astra's throat burned faintly, but the room's interference kept the recall muted. She could think.
A twist.
The Church wasn't only claiming her.
It was using her as justification to invade the underways.
Orin leaned closer, voice lower. "My price is you help me cut her line. You give me a way to jam sanctified containment signals in our tunnels."
Astra's pulse kicked. That was impossible.
She couldn't write. She couldn't hack. She could only see.
And yet she'd overloaded ward nets. She'd made commands misbehave. She'd created contradictions.
Astra looked at Kael's wrist crest, then at her own collar.
A third option formed, sharp and risky.
Not writing.
Weaponizing what already existed.
Astra spoke carefully—conditional, protocol-shaped. "If I help you jam her line," she said, "you help me sever House Veyrn's recall."
Orin's smile widened. "Ambitious."
Astra's eyes didn't blink. "Necessary."
Kael's hand at Astra's throat went still. He looked at her, warning written in his stare.
Astra met it and held—consent and defiance braided together. I'm choosing my cage, until I can break it.
Orin watched the silent exchange like he was enjoying a play.
Then he nodded once. "Deal."
Astra exhaled, relief and dread mixing.
Kael's voice was low. "Orin. If you betray us—"
Orin laughed softly. "If I betray you, you die. I know. The Dominion is very simple."
Astra's interface flickered faintly despite the interference, like the system enjoyed the new contract being spoken aloud.
CLAUSES (VIEW ONLY)— TEMP SHELTER: GRANTED (UNDERCHAIN)— COST: UNKNOWN— TRACE: 26.9% (STABLE)
Cost unknown.
Astra swallowed.
Orin stepped to the door and knocked a pattern—three, pause, two. A language of people who lived in walls.
A young woman's voice answered from outside, sharp. "Who."
Orin replied, "Mine."
The door opened a crack. A pair of eyes scanned. Then the door swung wider.
Astra saw a glimpse of Underchain life—crowded tunnels, hanging cloth, armed silhouettes.
Orin gestured. "We move deeper. Before they triangulate your trace flare from the manor."
Kael's hand left Astra's throat gently, like letting go of something fragile.
Astra immediately missed the warmth.
Kael noticed. His jaw tightened. He didn't comment.
He simply took her wrist again—safer contact, colder.
As they stepped into the corridor, Astra caught Orin's glance—measuring, amused, dangerous.
"Last thing," Orin said quietly, walking ahead. "Lyra didn't sell you to me for coin."
Astra's stomach tightened. "Then why."
Orin smiled over his shoulder. "Because she said you're the kind of glitch that turns leashes into weapons."
Astra's collar pulsed faintly, as if the system itself liked the prophecy.
And from somewhere far above, through stone and wards and distance, Astra felt the recall command twist—no longer a clean RETURN, but something sharper, more personal, like Dorian had finally realized she'd slipped his fingers.
Her interface flashed a single line, cold as law and intimate as a threat:
HOUSE VEYRN OVERRIDE: REACQUIRING — OWNER HAS ENTERED THE HUNT.