Imminent.
Astra's throat tightened. She felt it like cold fingertips approaching her collar from the outside. Not touching yet. Testing.
She focused on the sensation, on the way her system reacted—on the flicker in the interface.
A thin line appeared in her vision, pale as a hairline crack:
TAG VECTOR: LUMEN — SEEKING SIGNATURE MATCH
Astra's breath caught.
It was reaching for the part of her that was loudest—the anomaly spike from the manor, the trace surges, the broadcast signature.
Astra's mouth went dry. "It's matching on my spikes."
Orin nodded once. "Then stop spiking."
Astra laughed, bitter. "Great advice."
Kael's voice cut low. "Astra."
She looked at him.
Kael's eyes were fierce. "You can't out-run a tag. You have to change what it reads."
Astra's pulse kicked.
Change what it reads.
Write(Self) wasn't freedom. It was self-mutilation in code.
But the Novel Bible's ladder wasn't a promise. It was a price schedule.
And she had already paid enough to reach the next tier.
Astra stared at the interface as if staring could force it to open.
Her collar pulsed.
The Null Anchor pulsed back.
A new line flickered, faint at first, then solid—like a door deciding whether to exist.
PERMISSIONS UPDATE AVAILABLE
Astra's stomach dropped.
Kael's hand tightened on her wrist. "What do you see."
Astra swallowed. "A permission update."
Orin's smile sharpened. "Told you."
Juno's eyes widened. "You're leveling up in a sewer chapel. That's romantic."
Kael's jaw flexed. "Don't."
Astra's vision brightened.
The interface unfolded a panel she had never been allowed to touch.
PERMISSIONSREAD: ENABLEDWRITE (SELF): AVAILABLECONDITION: ACCEPT PAIN / TRACE COSTWARNING: SELF-WRITES LEAVE WATERMARKS
Watermarks.
Astra's throat went ice.
A watermark meant visibility.
It meant Dorian could read the scent of her edits. Seraphine could interpret them as heresy.
Astra's heart hammered.
Kael's voice was low, urgent. "Don't accept anything you don't understand."
Astra's laugh came out thin. "I understand enough."
Kael's eyes burned. "Astra."
She looked at him—really looked.
His hand was still at her wrist. His body was still angled toward her. His restraint was a living thing.
He wasn't begging.
But the fear in him—controlled, swallowed—was real.
He was collateral now. If she chose wrong, she didn't just burn herself.
She burned him.
Astra inhaled slowly.
Consent was always clear and sexy.
So she made it clear.
She lifted her free hand and placed it lightly against Kael's chest—through leather, through uniform, through all the ways he tried to be untouchable. No pressure. No trap. Just contact.
"Kael," she said softly. "I'm going to do this."
Kael went still.
Astra held his gaze. "Not because Orin wants it. Not because the chapel demands it."
Her fingers curled slightly in his coat. "Because I refuse to be tagged like livestock."
Kael's throat worked. "If you write yourself wrong—"
Astra's smile sharpened. "Then I'll hurt."
Kael's eyes darkened. "You'll die."
Astra's voice stayed low, steady. "Then anchor me."
Kael's jaw clenched.
Astra leaned closer until her breath warmed his jaw. "Not as owner," she whispered. "As the thing that keeps me from breaking when the price hits."
Heat surged between them—dangerous, raw. A bargain made of breath and fear and trust you didn't want to admit you needed.
Kael's restraint trembled.
Then he nodded once.
Astra's chest loosened a fraction.
Orin watched, satisfied. "Get on with it."
Juno muttered, "Men."
Astra ignored them.
She focused on the interface. On the permission that was waiting like a knife offered handle-first.
WRITE (SELF): AVAILABLE
Astra accepted.
The world didn't explode.
It tightened.
A new weight settled behind her eyes, as if her skull had become a room full of doors and she'd just been given a key—one that cut her palm when she held it.
Her interface flashed.
WRITE (SELF): ENABLEDTRACE COST: HIGHPAIN COST: IMMEDIATENOTE: WATERMARK APPLIED
Pain hit instantly—no delay loop mercy this time.
It wasn't a spike. It was a flood through her nerves, hot and invasive, as if the system was punishing her for daring to touch herself in its language.
Astra's knees buckled.
Kael caught her—arm around her ribs, pulling her against him before she could hit stone. His other hand went to her throat, fingers steady under the collar, anchoring.
Astra gasped, teeth clenched.
Kael's voice was low at her ear. "Breathe. Slow."
Astra forced air in.
The pain didn't stop.
It organized.
The interface stabilized under Kael's touch, giving her a narrow window to act.
Astra saw the Lumen tag vector again—reaching, searching.
She couldn't delete it.
She couldn't write others.
But she could reroute herself.
She selected the only safe target:
SIGNATURE PRESENTATION (SELF)
Astra's mind shook with pain as she chose a modification that felt like lying with her own blood:
IF LUMEN TAG SCAN → PRESENT NULL ANCHOR MASKUNTIL SIGNAL LOSS
Conditional.
Protocol-shaped.
Not rebellion.
Astra wrote it.
Her vision went white. Her throat burned like it was being rewritten from the inside out. Trace surged.
TRACE: 38.6%WARNING: SELF-WRITE WATERMARK STRONGLUMEN TAG VECTOR: MISREADING…
Astra's body trembled violently.
Kael held her tighter, not crushing, not owning—anchoring. His fingers at her throat steadied the collar as if his touch was a brace around a cracked bone.
Astra tasted blood. She didn't know if it was from biting her cheek or from the system biting her.
She forced her eyes open.
The tag vector wavered.
It reached again—and found the mask instead of the raw spike.
LUMEN TAG VECTOR: FAILRESULT: SIGNATURE = NULL-FOGGED
Astra sucked in a broken breath.
It worked.
For now.
Orin's smile turned predatory. "Good."
Juno exhaled hard. "Finally."
Kael didn't speak. He just held her, jaw clenched, eyes hard with relief he refused to show as softness.
Astra's limbs were shaky. The pain was still there—real, screaming—but now it was her price, not Dorian's leash.
Astra swallowed and forced herself upright inside Kael's hold.
"I did it," she rasped.
Kael's voice was rough. "You did."
Astra's mouth curved faintly. "You anchored."
Kael's eyes flicked to her mouth, then away like he didn't trust himself to look too long.
The room's air shifted again—lighter. The scraping pressure at the walls faltered.
Seraphine's probe recoiled, confused by the new mask.
For the first time, the Church didn't know exactly what it was touching.
Astra exhaled shakily.
And then the interface flickered a final line—quiet, intimate, and absolutely terrifying.
WATERMARK BROADCAST: DETECTED — HOUSE VEYRN HAS RECEIVED SELF-WRITE SIGNATURE.
Astra's blood ran cold.
Kael felt her stiffen. "What."
Astra lifted her gaze, eyes burning. "Dorian knows."
Orin laughed softly, delighted. "Of course he does."
Juno swore under her breath. "You just rang a bell."
Astra's collar pulsed—different now. Not just obedience.
Recognition.
Kael's hand tightened on Astra's wrist. "We move. Now."
Orin was already reaching for the door's scar-sigil. "Deeper pocket," he snapped. "Before the Marquis sends a net."
Astra forced her legs to obey her own pain. Kael didn't carry her this time. He guided her, steady and close, his fingers never leaving her wrist as if he could keep her from slipping out of herself.
They spilled back into the tunnels.
The Underchain's smoke and life swallowed them again, but the air felt tighter now—as if the city had heard a new signal and turned its head.
Behind them, somewhere far above stone and wards, Astra felt the pull of RETURN sharpen—not clean, not loud.
Personal.
As if Dorian wasn't commanding her anymore.
As if he was speaking to her directly, smiling as he did it.
Her interface answered with one final, brutal message—so calm it felt obscene:
HOUSE VEYRN RESPONSE: OWNER HAS ISSUED A NEW ORDER.