The estate was buzzing in the evening light. Golden hour painted the

  towers in shades of amber and bronze, softening the sharp angles of the

  architecture into something that almost felt welcoming. Tess watched

  through the skipper’s curved window as they descended toward a landing

  pad she didn’t recognize. Smaller than the public entrance, tucked away

  on one of the upper terraces, surrounded by actual greenery.

  It was a private pad, tucked away from staff and visitors and anyone

  who might be watching.

  “That’s the family pad,” Petra said quietly. She’d been silent for

  most of the flight, staring out her own window, processing. “They only

  use it for… sensitive arrivals.”

  Tess didn’t have the energy to ask what qualified as sensitive. She

  was fairly certain she already knew.

  The skipper touched down with barely a bump, and through the window

  Tess could see two figures waiting near the terrace railing. Amos

  Tertian was pacing in sharp movements that radiated barely contained

  energy. Sara stood beside him, still as a statue, her eyes fixed on the

  skipper.

  Watching for her daughter.

  The hatch opened. Petra was out first, moving quickly despite her own

  exhaustion, and Tess watched as Amos crossed the distance between them

  in three long strides.

  He pulled Petra into an embrace that had nothing performative about

  it. No noble distance, no careful positioning for observers. Just a

  father holding his daughter, one hand pressed against the back of her

  head, his eyes squeezed shut.

  Sara joined them a moment later, one arm around Petra’s shoulders,

  the other around her husband’s back. A family drawing together after a

  crisis, the way families were supposed to.

  Tess stayed in the skipper hatch, suddenly unsure where she fit in

  this picture.

  Then Amos looked up. His eyes found her, and the relief shifted,

  complicated by frustration, guilt, something she couldn’t quite

  name.

  Sara reached her first.

  “Thank you.” The Duchess of House Tertian stood in front of Tess, and

  her voice held none of the careful control Tess expected. “For keeping

  her safe.”

  It was genuine. No layers of political calculation. Just a mother

  who’d spent the last few hours not knowing if her daughter was

  alive.

  “I didn’t…” Tess started.

  “You did.” Sara’s hand found her shoulder, squeezed once, firmly.

  “Whatever else happened in there, you brought her home. That

  matters.”

  Amos had released Petra now, but he kept one hand on her arm as he

  approached. His jaw had set, his posture straightened—the Duke, not the

  father.

  “Inside. Now. Both of you.”

  The estate’s interior felt different too. Quieter. The usual bustle

  of staff and activity had been replaced by empty corridors and closed

  doors. Tess caught glimpses of security personnel at intersections. More

  than usual, and better armed.

  House Tertian was on high alert.

  Amos led them through passages Tess hadn’t seen before, away from the

  public areas, deeper into the family’s private spaces. His fury spilled

  out as they walked, words tumbling over each other like he couldn’t

  contain them anymore.

  “Allen’s been with us for twelve years. Twelve years of access,

  twelve years of trust, and he was Network the entire time.” His jaw

  worked. “I should have seen it. The signs were there. The delays on

  certain projects, the resistance to outside consultation, the way he

  always positioned himself near sensitive information.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” Sara said. She walked beside him, her

  composure restored but her eyes still sharp. “None of us did.”

  “That’s not good enough.” Amos turned a corner, leading them up a

  narrow staircase. “This was supposed to be an introduction. A chance to

  show you both what we’re trying to build, what we’re working toward.

  Instead that bastard nearly got you killed.”

  Petra spoke for the first time since they’d entered the estate. “What

  exactly were you trying to show us, Father?”

  The question hung in the air. Amos didn’t answer.

  “Skill crystal research,” Petra continued, her voice flat. “That’s

  what I was told. Extraction techniques, integration protocols,

  applications for medical treatment. Not…” She stopped walking. “Not a

  spawner. Not spawns being created outside the dungeon.”

  Amos turned to face her. For a moment, father and daughter stared at

  each other, and Tess saw something pass between them she couldn’t

  read.

  “We were going to explain,” Sara said. “After the tour. After you’d

  seen the scope of what we’re attempting.”

  “Scope?” Petra laughed harshly. “People almost died. Tess almost

  died. Because of the scope of what you’re attempting.”

  “And she didn’t.” Sara’s voice hardened slightly. “Because she fixed

  things that shouldn’t have been fixable. Because she shut down systems

  that our own technicians couldn’t access.” Her eyes moved to Tess.

  “Which brings us to a question I’ve been wondering about since we

  received word from your father.”

  There it was. The moment Tess had been dreading since Carys had

  mentioned the mobilization.

  “The facility blocks external communications,” Sara continued.

  “Military-grade jamming on all standard frequencies. Even our emergency

  channels couldn’t penetrate it from outside.” She paused. “And yet

  somehow, your father knew you were in danger. Knew enough to contact us

  directly. To tell us exactly where you were and exactly how bad the

  situation had become.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Here it comes.

  “I…”

  “I don’t care.”

  The words cut through Tess’s attempted explanation. Sara’s face

  hadn’t changed, but something in her eyes had softened.

  “Whatever you did. However you managed it.” Sara stepped closer. “If

  you can fix what I’m told was a string of deliberately sabotaged

  systems, containment fields and security protocols and a spawner running

  at maximum capacity, then I don’t care what you had to do to call for

  help.”

  “You fixed all of it,” Amos added. His voice had lost some of its

  sharp edge. “I’m told the containment field alone was very high level.

  Your class can access those kinds of system so quickly?”

  “I didn’t need it.” Tess stared at her hands. “Not for the field.

  That was all tools and spite… But the spawner… that was different, I

  needed…”

  She trailed off. She needed Bee’s help for that one, using whatever

  [AUXILIARY_LINK] was.

  “The important thing,” Sara said, “is that you’re both alive. And

  that we know, now, how deep the infiltration goes.”

  “How deep?” Petra asked.

  “Six confirmed Network plants in the perimeter security alone. We’re

  still identifying others.” Sara’s eyes went hard. “This wasn’t

  opportunistic. Some of it seems planned, but the rest was clearly on the

  fly. The moment they confirmed it was you that would bring a Technician

  to the facility, someone starting working. Someone higher than Allen.

  They didn’t expect Tess to fix anything. They expected the containment

  failure to trigger the purge, and for us to lose everyone inside.”

  “Including your daughter,” Tess said.

  “Yes.” The word came out flat. Final. “Including our daughter. The

  Network has been looking for leverage against House Tertian for decades.

  Petra would have been…”

  She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.

  The corridor opened into a sitting room Tess hadn’t seen before.

  Comfortable furniture arranged around a low table, heavy curtains drawn

  across tall windows. A space designed for private conversations.

  Amos gestured for them to sit, but remained standing himself, too

  agitated to settle.

  “Allen’s been apprehended,” he said. “Trying to leave Sector 4. He’ll

  answer for what he did.”

  “Will he?” Petra dropped onto one couch, and Tess noticed she chose

  the one closest to where Tess was standing. “Or will he disappear into

  Network custody before anyone can question him properly?”

  “He won’t disappear.” Amos’s voice went cold. “I’ve made certain of

  that.”

  Sara settled into a chair across from Petra, her posture still tense

  despite the comfortable surroundings. “Tess. Please, sit. You look

  exhausted.”

  She was. The headache had faded to a dull throb, but the bone-deep

  fatigue remained: mental, emotional, physical. Everything she had, she’d

  left in that lab.

  Tess sat on the couch beside Petra.

  Amos finally stopped pacing. He stood near the window, silhouetted

  against the late afternoon light, and when he spoke again, his voice had

  lost its edge.

  “I owe you more than an apology, Tess. I owe you an explanation.” He

  pulled a credit chit from his pocket and set it on the table between

  them. “But first. Hazard pay. Triple what we agreed. It’s not

  enough.”

  Sara nodded. “It’s never enough when someone nearly dies for your

  mistakes.”

  Tess blinked. Sara wasn’t trying to soften the situation; instead,

  she was doubling down on how bad this whole thing was. That somehow

  helped.

  Tess picked up the chit and didn’t look at the amount.

  “I understand,” Amos continued, “if you don’t want to work with us

  anymore. After this…” He looked at Petra, then back at Tess. “After what

  happened. What almost happened.”

  “You saved my daughter’s life. Twice now.” His voice had gone quiet.

  “You are welcome here whenever you want to be. The workshop on the

  grounds, it’s yours to use. Any time, for any purpose. I’m told there’s

  equipment being delivered. Tools, diagnostic stations, components.

  Consider it yours.”

  “And if you have things you want to use that equipment for,” Sara

  added, “projects of your own, repairs that have nothing to do with House

  Tertian. It belongs to you.”

  Tess turned the credit chit over in her hands. “Why?”

  “Because we owe you. And because…” Amos hesitated. “Because I hope,

  despite everything, that you might continue to work with us. On your

  terms. Estate work only.”

  “She’s not leaving.”

  Petra’s voice cut through the conversation. She said it with

  certainty, as if it was already decided, then turned to Tess.

  “Right?”

  Tess met her eyes. Petra’s jaw was tight, her fingers pressed white

  against her knee. The look of someone whose family had been keeping

  secrets that almost got her killed. She looked like she was desperately

  hoping that Tess wouldn’t abandon her.

  “I haven’t decided anything yet.”

  Something flickered across Petra’s face: hurt, understanding,

  acceptance. She nodded.

  “Fair.” Sara rose from her chair. “But before you decide, you’re owed

  an explanation. About what you saw. What that facility was for. What

  we’re trying to do.”

  “You deserve to know,” Amos agreed. He moved toward the door. “Come

  with us. There’s something we need to show you both.”

  Petra caught Tess’s eye as they stood. An answer on her face to a

  question Tess didn’t even have to ask.

  I have no idea.

  Whatever was coming, Petra didn’t know about it either.

  Sara fell into step beside Tess as they followed Amos through the

  estate. The corridors were still empty, still quiet, but something in

  the air had shifted.

  “Whatever you decide after this conversation,” Sara said, “thank you.

  For bringing her home.”

  Tess didn’t know how to respond to that. So she just nodded.

  They climbed another staircase, passed through a set of heavy doors,

  and emerged onto an upper floor Tess hadn’t seen before. The

  architecture here was older, more ornate. Carved stonework and wood

  paneling, materials that cost more than most people earned in a

  lifetime.

  Amos stopped in front of a set of double doors. They were tall,

  heavy, carved with patterns that looked almost organic. Vines and

  branches intertwined.

  “What we’re about to discuss,” he said, “doesn’t leave this

  room.”

  He opened the door.

  The conservatory was enormous.

  Tess had expected something like the receiving hall where she’d first

  met the Duke. Formal, imposing, designed to make visitors feel small.

  This was something else entirely. The room occupied most of the upper

  floor, with curved walls of glass that looked out over Sector 5’s

  sprawling towers. Late afternoon sun poured through the windows,

  painting everything in shades of gold and amber.

  A fountain dominated the center of the space, water cascading over

  carved stone into a pool filled with actual living plants. Paintings

  hung on the walls between the windows, landscapes and portraits and

  abstract pieces that probably cost more than Rivera’s Reprieve. A

  chandelier the size of a small vehicle hung from the ceiling, its

  crystal facets catching the light and scattering it across every

  surface.

  But what caught Tess’s attention was the man circling the room’s

  perimeter.

  Jeremy.

  The butler held a small device in his hand, running it along the

  walls, pausing at windows and light fixtures. Scanning for

  something.

  He looked up as they entered, nodded once to Amos, and continued his

  circuit.

  Petra had stopped just inside the doorway, her eyes moving across the

  room as if she were cataloging every detail. “I’m not usually allowed in

  here.”

  “No,” Sara said. “You aren’t.”

  Jeremy completed his sweep, checking something on the device’s

  display. Then he pulled a datapad from his jacket and pressed a single

  button.

  The room transformed.

  The lights shifted from warm gold to deep amber, casting long shadows

  across the floor. The windows darkened, their transparency fading until

  they were nearly opaque. Tess heard the click of locks engaging in the

  doors behind them, heavy and final. And the fountain—the fountain simply

  stopped, its cascade falling silent, leaving only the soft drip of water

  settling in the basin.

  In the sudden quiet, Amos’s voice carried clearly across the

  room.

  “You are currently standing in one of the last guild halls of the

  Techno-Arborists”