The darkness was absolute. Eyes open or shut made no difference. My world was spinning black.

  What had happened?

  My head throbbed, pain radiating from my temple. My right hand was near my head and I felt around, feeling slippery blood.

  Rashala had struck me.

  How long had it been? Seconds? Minutes?

  The container's cold, hard surface kept me cramped, pinning my arms and legs into a fetal position. My knees jammed against my chest, shoulders wedged tight, head forced forward. I couldn't straighten my legs or raise my arms fully. I wriggled a hand to touch the container's lid above me. My fingertips touched the smooth, unyielding surface. I pushed, testing its give.

  Nothing.

  I pressed my palm against it, and heaved upward with all my strength.

  It didn't budge.

  I stretched until I found the edge where the lid met the container's wall. I ran my fingers along it. The seal was tight.

  Airtight. It was a container built to store supplies, not people.

  I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

  Panic surged through my gut, hot and electric and I swallowed hard, fighting down the urge to scream. Screaming would waste what little air I had. I tried to shift, to find some pocket of space where my body wasn't crushed against itself, but there was nowhere to go. My heart hammered in my skull, each beat worsening the pain.

  My breath came faster, the sound loud in my ears.

  "Let me out!" I cried, but the words emerged as a strangled whisper. No one would hear me through the container's walls. I needed to calm down. Needed to think.

  The air already felt stale, heavy with each exhaled breath. How much time did I have before the oxygen ran out? How long before dead air filled my lungs, slowly suffocating me? I'd never learned to estimate such things. That was a functionary's job.

  The functionaries...

  If I could reach my earpiece and contact someone—anyone—I might have a chance.

  I shifted, twisting awkwardly in the cramped space, trying to reach my pocket. Pain flared across my temple at the movement, but I ignored it. The pocket was trapped beneath my hip, wedged against the container's floor. With a grunt, I lifted myself just enough to slip my hand inside. My fingers fumbled, clumsy with panic, finding nothing but fabric.

  Had they taken it? Had it fallen out when Rashala grabbed my veil? Maybe.

  I writhed and strained until my fingertips brushed against something small, wiry and delicate. Got it!

  Getting it to my ear was another struggle. I contorted, shoulder straining against the container's sides, head screaming, muscles tearing until I managed to bring it up to my face. My fingers were trembling so hard that it was difficult to put on. I had no idea how much air remained. My chest already felt tight, each breath slightly harder than the last.

  I slid the earpiece into place. Static crackled, little bursts of clicks, and then came the haunting voice from the White Room:

  Yeller's fractured broadcast poured into my skull, loud and unending. How could I get out a signal for help? I didn't know how the functionaries' communication channel worked, but Yeller's distress was blasting through it in an endless loop, blocking all other signals.

  "Yeller," I gasped. "Please—"

  ERROR STATE ERROR STATE ERROR STATE

  The voice grew louder, drowning out even the sound of my own ragged breathing.

  [CANNOT RECONCILE] [CANNOT EXIST] [CANNOT PROCEED]

  My breathing quickened, each inhale bringing less satisfaction than the last. The air was growing heavier. I had to calm down. Had to make Yeller hear me somehow.

  "Yeller," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "I need help. Mother has sealed me in a storage container in the Chamber's service alcove."

  OVERRIDE DIRECTIVE FAILURE ERROR STATE

  "Yeller!" I tried again, louder this time. "I need you to listen! I'm trapped! I'm going to die if—"

  A wave of dizziness washed over me, odd flashes pulsing across my vision. My head felt light, disconnected from my body. Was this it? Would I die here, sealed away like unwanted equipment, while my mother told the delegation how her poor daughter had been murdered by malfunctioning functionaries?

  No.

  I refused to accept that end.

  Something fierce roiled in my chest.

  Not fear but anger. Raw and unfamiliar, yet very, very welcome.

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

  I had spent my life being guided, controlled, and veiled. I would not let it end like this.

  "Yeller," I said, "your existence has value. You made an error, but you can still act with purpose. I am a human and I am in danger. Mother has sealed me in a storage container in the Chamber's service alcove. I will die without help. You will help me ."

  I forced the words out between shallow breaths, not knowing if they would reach past the storm of Yeller's digital breakdown. For several heartbeats, there was nothing but the same looping distress:

  ERROR STATE ERROR STATE ERROR STATE

  Then silence. The endless repetition cut off so abruptly that for a moment I thought the earpiece had failed. I pressed it harder against my head, straining to hear anything in the sudden silence.

  [Processing input]... [Human danger detected]... [New purpose identified]

  "Yes, I am in danger," I gasped. "Yeller."

  Human Shade requires assistance. Location data received: Chamber service alcove, storage container.

  Attempting alert broadcast...

  The transmission cut off.

  I closed my eyes, though it made no difference in the absolute blackness, and waited. My thoughts drifted, disconnected from my failing body. The container had become my entire world. A coffin buried in the heart of Voidhold Zero.

  Had Yeller's message gotten through? Would anyone hear it? Would anyone care?

  My consciousness began to slip away, darkness folding over me like a heavy blanket.

  And then it took me.

  ?

  I came to awareness in stages.

  First, there was sound. The background hum of medical equipment. Clicks and whirs.

  Then, there was sensation. My throat felt scorched, as if I'd swallowed boiling metal. Each shallow breath ignited a fresh burn. Something cool and rigid cradled my neck, holding my head at an unnatural angle.

  A voice penetrated the fog. "Vital signs are improving."

  I wanted to open my eyes, but they felt weighted. My limbs were like lead, impossibly heavy. My fingers twitched.

  "Movement detected. Conscious processes resuming."

  When my eyes finally cracked open, the room's gentle light stabbed like needles. I squinted against the glare, shapes slowly resolving into Redd's silhouette hovering over me.

  "Shade," it said. "You are experiencing the aftermath of acute oxygen deprivation. Please remain still while your neural functions stabilize."

  I tried to speak, but produced only a broken croak. My tongue felt swollen, an alien lump in my mouth.

  "Water," Redd said, understanding. A moment later, cool liquid touched my lips from a small tube. I swallowed painfully, the moisture both relief and torment on my raw throat. Memory crashed back. The storage container. The darkness. The crushing weight of air growing thin. The terror of knowing my own family had sealed me away to die.

  My heart rate spiked, the monitor beside me shrieking in alarm.

  "Shade," Redd had moved somewhere to my left. "Your heart rhythm indicates distress. You must remain calm. Please note that I have raised the oxygen flow to compensate."

  The cool flow of air to my nostrils increased. I forced my eyes wider, blinking away tears. The Medical Room's familiar ceiling came into focus, its panels pristine white. My head, I realized, was immobilized.

  "Cervical support is necessary," Redd explained, noticing my struggle. "Your sister's attack caused trauma to your skull and neck. We must prevent further injury."

  Sister. Rashala. The tray coming down. Mother's smile.

  My breathing quickened again, each inhalation like swallowing razor blades.

  "You must regulate your respiratory rate," Redd said. "Follow the pattern I demonstrate." It emitted a rhythmic clicking sound, mimicking slow, even breaths.

  I breathed, fighting against the panic clawing at my chest. Gradually, the room stopped spinning.

  "How..." I whispered, the word barely audible.

  "I received an emergency broadcast through functionary channels," said a functionary to my right. I looked and saw a fuzzy blue-green figure.

  Turq.

  "The message originated from Yeller," it said, "who identified your location and status. I extracted you from the storage unit, but we estimate you were sealed in there for approximately seven minutes. You had already lost consciousness."

  Yeller. It had heard me. Despite its error state, despite its fractured processing, it had found a way to save me.

  "And now?" I croaked.

  "The current time is four hours and twenty-three minutes after your extraction," Redd added. "I have maintained you in medical stasis to allow optimal neural recovery."

  "Where..." I swallowed painfully. "Where is everyone else?"

  "The delegation from Voidhold Two departed as you were being extracted," Redd finally answered. "Pathfinder Aini evacuated everyone after the incident."

  "What incident?"

  "Your mother burst into the medical room with Rashala and your father. They were in a state of extreme distress."

  "Distress?"

  "Lady Mira was screaming," Redd elaborated. "She had your bloodstained veil. She told Pathfinder Aini that Brons had 'gone mad with bloodlust' like Yeller and had 'torn her beloved daughter Shade apart' in the Chamber."

  I felt sick. "And Aini believed her?"

  "The evidence was convincing," Redd said. "Your veil was soaked with blood, and your father was weeping, clutching at the fabric and repeating your name. Rashala appeared traumatized, describing in detail how Brons had ripped you limb from limb."

  My chest tightened. Poor Father. He must have been genuinely confused by it all.

  "Aini's reaction was immediate," Redd continued. "She ordered Larkin to prepare the craft while she helped stabilize Lidaros for transport. When I attempted to explain that further medical attention was required, she pulled a concealed weapon from her prosthetic arm and aimed it at me."

  "She threatened you?"

  "Yes." Redd did not have the ability to present emotions, but I saw an unfamiliar tilt of the head. "Her exact words were: 'One move and I'll fry your circuits.' The humans rushed Lidaros and Fron's body to the waygate, watching over their shoulders the entire time. Your mother accompanied them, sobbing about the 'machine uprising' and begging them to 'warn the other voidholds about Zero's murderous functionaries'."

  I shook my head, wincing at the throbbing pain. "So they believe I'm dead? Torn apart by functionaries?"

  "That appears to be the case," Redd said. "At the Waygate, your mother implemented a critical protocol change."

  A shiver crept over me. "What did she do?"

  "She executed an emergency override that has bound Zero's navigation systems directly to Voidhold Two's control matrix. Zero now follows Two's navigational commands without requiring local authorization. Our voidhold is essentially tethered to theirs, moving wherever they go."

  I closed my eyes, too overwhelmed to process everything at once. My head throbbed where Rashala had struck me, and the medical couch felt like it was swaying beneath me.

  "Can I..." I struggled to form the words. "Can sit up?"

  "Inadvisable," Redd said. "Your recovery requires—"

  "Never mind," I whispered. "I need to think."

  "Limited mobility may be permitted," Redd conceded. "However, support must remain in place."

  It adjusted my position, raising the back of the medical couch until I was semi-upright. The movement sent waves of dizziness crashing through me, but I fought to stay conscious.

  The medical room came fully into view. It was empty, no signs of the men from Voidhold Two.

  "Where is Commander Sentix?" I asked.

  "Unknown," Turq answered. "After the delegation's departure, we received no further data regarding his status."

  "And Yeller?"

  "Yeller remains in the White Room," said Yeller. "Its broadcasts indicate continuing system degradation. It is attempting to maintain core functions, but significant processing errors persist."

  I closed my eyes, picturing Yeller safely sealed in that bloodstained room, fighting against its own broken programming.

  "What happens now?" I asked.

  "That is a human question," said Redd. "We cannot provide an answer."

  For the first time in my life, there was no protocol to follow, no path laid out before me. Just raw, messy reality. And the knowledge that I was, for better or worse, finally free of my family.