"Subject Astra Vey. By Guild authority, present yourself for evaluation."
The voice came through iron like it had been born inside it—calm, educated, and utterly sure the world would obey.
Astra's collar reacted before her mind did. A tight, eager pulse. Not joy—recognition. The system loved paperwork. It loved clean hands and stamped rights.
Her interface hovered at the edge of her vision like a blade held steady.
AUDIT LOCK: PREPARING — EXTERNAL EVALUATION REQUESTED.TRACE: 74.2%INTERNAL STABILIZER: ACTIVEANCHOR LINK: ISOLATED (TEMP)WARNING: HIGH AUTHORITY HANDSHAKE ATTEMPTING
Kael's body went rigid beside her. He didn't reach for her throat. He didn't touch the collar. He just moved—one half-step closer, shoulders angling to block the door line as if his spine could intercept a signature.
Orin's face tightened into quiet murder. "In my room," he whispered, like the words were a curse.
Juno's fingers tightened around a wire disk. "Say the word," she breathed.
Lyra Sable stood near the salt-streaked pillar, watching the glowing seam with eyes that shone too bright. The amusement that had been on her mouth a moment ago was gone—replaced by the crisp attention of someone who knew exactly what kind of predator had arrived.
"You don't fight Crestwright auditors," Lyra said softly, as if repeating a rule she'd learned the hard way. "You run, or you sign."
Astra swallowed. Salt and iron coated her tongue. Her nerves still sang from the last self-write—pain that had organized into a dull burn behind her eyes. She could feel the internal stabilizer rule holding her collar upright like a brace on a cracked bone.
But the brace was visible.
And the Guild had smelled it.
The seam in the iron door glowed again—precise, not forceful. A polite knock made of light.
Kael's voice dropped low, rough. "Astra. Don't answer."
Orin hissed, "If they breach, they don't just take her. They take everything."
Juno glanced at Orin. "Then we run."
Lyra's gaze flicked to Astra. "Running with trace that high is a flare. They'll follow you through stone."
Astra's chest tightened. She hated that Lyra was right.
The voice spoke again, unchanged. "Subject Astra Vey. Evaluation is compulsory under Crestwright statute for anomalous crest-interface behaviors. Noncompliance will be treated as hostile concealment."
Hostile concealment.
A word designed to make law feel like a noose.
Astra forced a slow inhale. She felt the collar twitch toward compliance, hungry for the clean certainty of "statute." Then her stabilizer rule held—quietly prioritizing Astra's chosen ruleset until safe.
Until safe.
Safe didn't exist.
So Astra would have to manufacture it.
She looked at Orin. "How many exits."
Orin's mouth twisted. "Two. Both smell like a trap now."
Astra looked at Juno. "Can you jam the seam."
Juno's eyes narrowed. "I can jam signal. I can't jam Guild authority. Their sigils don't fight like Dominion. They bind."
Astra's gaze slid to Lyra. "You know them."
Lyra's smile returned—thin, sharp. "I know their etiquette."
Kael's jaw flexed at that. Astra felt it like heat in the air. Possessive anger, quickly strangled into discipline.
Astra turned her head slightly toward him. "You're steady?"
Kael's eyes held hers, dark. "I'm here."
Not soft. Not romantic. A statement of position on a battlefield.
It steadied her more than it should have.
Astra faced the door and lifted her chin. "What does 'evaluation' mean."
Orin's eyes widened. "Astra—"
Astra held up a hand, palm out. "Not answering. Asking."
She pitched her voice toward the seam, calm and clear. "State your terms, Auditor."
A faint pause—like a quill hovering over paper.
Then the voice replied, still polite. "Evaluation consists of signature verification, clause inspection, and collar compliance assessment. You will present your throat crest and submit to a non-invasive scan."
Non-invasive.
A word people used when they were lying.
Kael's throat worked. His gaze sharpened. "Clause inspection means they'll see the Null Anchor. They'll see me."
Astra's stomach turned. The Guild didn't care about romance. It cared about contracts. It would see Kael in her collar and categorize him as collateral with a Church residue bruise.
It would bill them for it.
Or take it.
Lyra stepped closer, just enough that Astra could smell spice through salt. "If you open the door," Lyra murmured, "don't stand like a subject. Stand like a client."
Astra's eyes narrowed. "Client."
Lyra's smile sharpened. "Clients get choices. Subjects get revised."
Kael's gaze cut to Lyra—hot and warning. "You're enjoying this."
Lyra's eyes flicked to Kael with amused contempt. "I'm enjoying you squirming."
Jealous heat snapped in Astra's gut—sharp and ugly and absolutely inconvenient. She didn't let it show on her face.
Kael didn't either.
But his shoulders tightened, and Astra felt the instinct in him: claim space, control distance, deny Lyra oxygen.
Astra did what she always did with heat.
She used it.
She stepped slightly toward Kael—placing her body in his orbit by choice, not by leash. Not hiding behind him. Aligning with him.
Lyra noticed. Her smile deepened a fraction, like she'd filed the movement as data.
Orin swore quietly. "We're running out of time."
Astra's interface flickered.
AUDIT LOCK: HANDSHAKE ESCALATINGWARNING: AUTO-COMPLIANCE PROTOCOL MAY TRIGGER
Auto-compliance.
That meant the collar could decide for her if she hesitated too long—like it had tried to surrender Kael earlier.
Astra's stomach clenched.
She needed to stall the handshake without spiking trace.
Her eyes slid to the corner of her UI where an older patch icon sat like a loaded spring.
DELAY LOOP (READY)
A six-second punishment delay. She could trigger it by touching the collar—if she dared. But delay had a cost, and her trace was already screaming.
Six seconds might be the difference between being scanned and being gone.
She met Kael's gaze. Silent question: If I trigger pain, can you keep me upright without giving them a touch-path handle?
Kael's eyes hardened in understanding. He gave a tiny nod.
Consent.
Clear.
Astra didn't touch her throat. Not yet.
She spoke to the seam again, buying half a breath. "Name yourself."
A pause. Then, "Auditor Meros Hal."
The name meant nothing to Astra. But the way he said it—like it was a seal—made her skin crawl.
Lyra's eyes flicked, recognition spark. "Meros," she murmured under her breath. "Of course."
Kael's head snapped slightly. "You know him."
Lyra's smile didn't move. "I know of him."
Astra filed that away. Another thread, another knife.
Astra stepped closer to the door, not within arm's reach, but close enough to be heard easily. "Auditor Hal," she said evenly, "I am in a private room under Underchain protection. You have no warrant here."
The voice came back smooth. "Underchain protection does not supersede Guild statute. Your trace exceeds safe limits. You have committed multiple self-writes. You have installed unauthorized patches. And you are currently hosting collateral inside a collar in violation of Guild safety codes."
Astra's breath caught.
He knew.
Not guessed. Knew.
The Guild wasn't sniffing blind. It was reading her watermark from the outside like a ledger.
Kael went still, jaw clenched. "How is he—"
Lyra's voice was quiet. "They can smell a high trace like it's ink in water."
Astra's interface flickered, as if offended to be understood by someone other than her.
NOTE: EXTERNAL PARSE DETECTEDWARNING: GUILD READ ACCESS ATTEMPTING