Kael's jaw clenched. "What's the internal stabilizer."
Lyra's gaze slid to Astra's throat. Then to Kael's face.
Then—slowly—to Astra's mouth.
"You," Lyra said softly. "You become your own stabilizer."
Astra went still.
Orin frowned. "She can't become her own—"
Lyra cut him off. "She can. She has Write(Self). She's already rewriting response pathways. She just needs a phrase the collar recognizes as non-rebellious."
Astra's mouth went dry. "A phrase."
Lyra smiled. "A vow."
Kael's voice went flat. "No vows."
Lyra's eyes glittered. "Not romance. Not ownership. A system vow. A self-governor clause."
Astra's chest tightened.
Lyra's gaze held hers, intimate and sharp. "If you give your collar a clean internal authority, it will stop begging external claims to tell it what to do."
Astra swallowed. "And the cost."
Lyra's smile softened. "Trace."
Of course.
Kael's jaw flexed. "She's already near audit lock."
Lyra's gaze slid to Kael, amused. "Then you should have kept her quiet."
Kael's eyes darkened. "I kept her alive."
Lyra's smile sharpened. "And now you're going to keep her clean."
Astra's throat tightened. "Enough. Tell me the vow."
Lyra stepped closer—too close for comfort, close enough that Astra could feel her warmth.
Kael shifted. His body moved half a step toward Astra automatically, like he wanted to reclaim space.
Astra didn't let him.
She kept her eyes on Lyra and made her voice steady. "Speak."
Lyra smiled as if she'd won something.
"Simple," Lyra whispered. "Conditional. Protocol-shaped."
Lyra's eyes glinted. "You tell the collar: If external claims conflict, prioritize Astra's chosen rule until safe."
Astra's pulse hammered.
A chosen rule.
A collar that obeyed her—not as owner, not as master, but as stabilizer.
It was a loophole.
It was also heresy.
Astra looked at Kael.
He was watching Lyra like she was a knife near Astra's throat. His eyes were hard. Protective. Furious.
And underneath it, something else: fear of being replaced as anchor, fear of being dragged deeper into Astra's collar math.
Heat curled low in Astra's belly at the intensity of his stare.
She hated that she liked it.
She used it anyway.
"Kael," Astra said softly, "I need you to be calm."
Kael's jaw clenched. "I am calm."
Astra's mouth curved faintly. "You're coiled."
Kael's eyes flashed.
Lyra chuckled softly. "He's not used to sharing."
Kael's voice went cold. "Stop talking."
Lyra's smile widened. "Make me."
The air in the Saltroom tightened again.
Astra felt the extraction line tug—like Dorian enjoyed the tension between predators as much as he enjoyed the tension in her collar.
Her interface flickered with brutal clarity.
EXTRACTION PROGRESS: 9.8%DRAIN RATE: INCREASING
Time was bleeding.
Astra stepped between Kael and Lyra, palms open. "Enough. Both of you."
Kael went still.
Lyra's smile didn't fade.
Astra looked at Lyra. "You help me stop the drain. After that, we settle what you are."
Lyra's eyes gleamed. "Fair."
Astra looked at Kael. "You help me keep the collar stable while I isolate the link."
Kael's jaw flexed. "How."
Astra swallowed. "Voice anchor. Protocol phrasing. No touch."
Kael's eyes held hers.
Then he nodded once.
Consent.
Clear.
Chosen.
Astra turned inward.
Her Ghost Command sat loaded like a blade. Her interface flickered with the stored isolate rule waiting to be released.
GHOST COMMAND STORED: IF ANCHOR EXTRACTION DETECTED → ISOLATE ANCHOR LINK UNTIL SAFE SIGNAL
She needed a trigger moment—when the extraction line peaked.
Lyra pointed at Kael's wrist. "When the residue flares," she murmured. "That's your peak. That's when the tap is strongest."
Kael's wrist crest flickered again. The sunburst bruise brightened for half a second, then dimmed.
Astra's heart hammered.
Kael's voice went low, deliberate—protocol-shaped, like a command written as care.
"Astra," Kael said, "if you release the stored command, you will breathe through the pain and keep your feet under you until it passes."
Astra's breath caught.
Her body steadied.
Not because the words were magic.
Because the collar recognized law in them.
Because the collar, traitor that it was, liked Kael's certainty.
Astra held that certainty like a rope.
Then she watched Kael's wrist.
The residue brightened again—stronger this time, as if something outside had found a cleaner angle.
Astra's interface flashed.
EXTRACTION PROGRESS: 11.9%WARNING: CREST PATHWAY DAMAGE PROXIMAL
Kael's face went tight. A harsh breath left him. He didn't make a sound.
Lyra's voice went low. "Now."
Astra released the Ghost Command.
The world didn't explode.
It snapped.
A sudden quiet in her collar link—like a corridor door slammed shut.
Astra's interface flared.
GHOST COMMAND: RELEASEDANCHOR LINK: ISOLATED (TEMP)EXTRACTION LINE: BROKENCOLLAR STABILITY: COMPROMISED — SEEKING STABILIZER
Kael's shoulders sagged—one sharp relief exhale—then he stiffened again as if his nervous system didn't trust relief.
Astra's throat tightened.
Here came the collar panic.
The system wanted a stabilizer.
If it didn't find one cleanly, it would choose one.
Dorian.
Seraphine.
Anything that felt certain.
Astra didn't give it the chance.
She opened Write(Self) again, hands shaking with the knowledge that this spike might push her past safe.
Her interface unfolded like a blade.
WRITE (SELF): AVAILABLEWARNING: TRACE CRITICALRISK: AUDIT LOCK IMMINENT
Astra's heart hammered. She saw Kael watching her—hard, steady, afraid.
Lyra watched too—eager, calculating.
Orin leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming at the sight of a living system anomaly rewriting herself like a god learning to write its own scripture.
Juno muttered, "Do it."
Astra wrote the vow—protocol-shaped, clean, brutal:
IF EXTERNAL CLAIMS CONFLICT OR ANCHOR LINK ISOLATED → PRIORITIZE ASTRA'S CHOSEN RULESET UNTIL SAFE SIGNAL
A chosen ruleset.
Not owner.
Not claimant.
Her.
Pain hit instantly—bright, invasive, like hot wire under skin. Astra's knees buckled.
Kael caught her elbow and held her upright without touching her collar. His voice was low, fierce.
"Breathe," he ordered. "Now."
Astra breathed through clenched teeth.
Her vision swam, but the interface steadied long enough to show the result.
WRITE (SELF): COMMITTEDTRACE: 74.2%WATERMARK: SEVERECOLLAR STABILITY: RECOVERING (INTERNAL STABILIZER FOUND)ANCHOR LINK: ISOLATED — HOLDING
Kael's wrist crest dimmed.
The sunburst residue didn't vanish—but it stopped pulsing like a beacon. The extraction line, cut, could no longer drink cleanly through Astra.
Kael exhaled hard, one hand bracing against the wall. "It's—" He swallowed. "It's quieter."
Astra's breath shook. "Good."
Lyra smiled slowly. "Beautiful."
Kael's eyes snapped to Lyra. "Don't."
Lyra's smile sharpened. "Don't compliment the girl who just saved your mind?"
Kael's jaw flexed. "Don't look at her like she's a toy."
Lyra's eyes glittered. "You can't stop me looking."
Heat flared in Astra's chest, tight and dangerous.
Jealousy wasn't romantic.
It was territorial survival.
Astra stepped closer to Kael, body angling so she stood between his gaze and Lyra's. Not blocking, not claiming—choosing where she placed herself.
Kael's eyes flicked to Astra's movement, and something in his face softened for half a heartbeat before he strangled it.
Astra's throat burned, trace screaming under the skin.
She swallowed and forced her voice steady. "Kael," she murmured, "you're safe for now."
Kael's gaze held hers. "You're not."
Astra's mouth curved bitterly. "No."
Kael's voice dropped lower, intimate in its restraint. "Your trace is—"
Astra cut him off softly. "I know."
Kael's jaw clenched. He hated being unable to stop her from bleeding herself into the system.
Astra felt it.
And because she was cruel in the way survival sometimes required, she leaned in half an inch—close enough to make his breath stutter—without touching him anywhere that could be used.
"Say it," Astra whispered.
Kael's eyes darkened. "Say what."
Astra's mouth curved faintly. "That you need me."
Kael went still.
Heat rose like a tide between them—dangerous, electric, threaded with consent and fear.
Lyra's soft laugh came from behind Astra. "Oh, that's adorable."
Kael's gaze snapped toward Lyra, furious.
Astra didn't look back. She stayed focused on Kael, forcing him to stay in the moment.
Kael's throat worked.
Then he spoke, voice low and rough, like it cost him something to be honest.
"I need you alive," he said.
Astra's breath hitched.
Not romance.
Not softness.
But need, clean and brutal.
Astra smiled—small, sharp, satisfied. "Good."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Don't enjoy it."
Astra's smile widened a fraction. "Too late."
Juno cleared her throat pointedly. "Hate to interrupt your emotional collapse, but—"
Orin snapped his head toward the door. "Shut up. Listen."
Everyone went still.
In the silence, Astra heard it: a faint scraping on the iron door seam. Not a knock. Not a shove.
A careful touch.
A sigil probe.
Astra's interface flickered.
AUDIT PING: DETECTEDSOURCE: UNKNOWN (HIGH AUTHORITY SIGNATURE)NOTE: TRACE 74% ATTRACTING ATTENTION
Astra's blood ran cold.
Not Dorian's voice.
Not Seraphine's hymn.
Something else.
A bureaucratic gaze.
The kind that didn't threaten.
The kind that revised.
Orin's face tightened. "That's not Church."
Lyra's smile faded into seriousness. "No."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Then what."
Lyra's eyes slid to Astra, bright and dangerous. "The Crestwright Guild."
Astra's stomach dropped. "Here?"
Lyra nodded once. "They smell high trace like blood in water. And you just spiked into the range where they stop waiting for invitations."
Orin swore softly. "In my room?"
Lyra's gaze flicked to him. "Your room is a rumor. Tonight it became a flare."
Juno's fingers tightened around a disk. "We fight?"
Lyra shook her head. "You don't fight Crestwright auditors. You run, or you sign."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Sign what."
Lyra's smile returned, thin as wire. "A contract."
Astra's collar pulsed faintly, as if delighted by the word.
Astra swallowed. "No more contracts."
Lyra stepped closer again, voice soft enough to feel like a secret pressed to Astra's mouth. "Then you'd better decide what you are willing to lose, Astra."
Astra's pulse hammered.
She'd just saved Kael from being drained.
She'd just carved a stabilizer vow into herself.
Her trace was screaming.
And now a new predator had found her scent—one that didn't want her body or her faith.
It wanted her code.
The iron door seam glowed faintly—brief, precise—like a fingertip of light tracing the lock.
A voice spoke from the other side, calm and educated, with the kind of politeness that made Astra's skin crawl:
"Subject Astra Vey. By Guild authority, present yourself for evaluation."
Kael's body went rigid.
Orin's face went white with fury.
Juno cursed softly.
Lyra's eyes glittered with cold amusement. "Told you."
Astra's interface flashed a final line, calm as ink and catastrophic as a noose tightening:
AUDIT LOCK: PREPARING — EXTERNAL EVALUATION REQUESTED.