Genevieve Renee pressed her back to the boarded church door and counted the raiders in the street. Three of the Dragon's scouts walked a slow loop past the blue dome, rifles slung, eyes on every alley. She had come to Saltbite to raise this ruined church back into a sanctuary and to light its cross so the faithful could find shelter here. But she could not cross the open ground without being seen. One dash for the tools inside the yard, and the Dragon's men would drag her off before she reached the steps. A tug came at her hem. She looked down. A small brown hamster stood on its hind legs, a scrap of leather strapped across its chest. It pointed a paw at a gap in the church's foundation, then at the scouts, then shook its head hard. "You live in there," Genevieve whispered. She understood. If she brought a fight to this church, the little creature's family lost their walls. "I won't let them burn it. But I need to get inside without being seen." The hamster darted through the foundation gap. Genevieve waited, her cross cold against her palm and her book pressed to her ribs. A grinding sound answered from behind the boarded wall. Then a whole section of stone swung inward. Behind it stood a battered android, orange plating scarred and dented, one eye glowing amber. He filled the hidden doorway, fists like sledgehammers. The hamster perched on his shoulder, pointing at her. "You're the one who's been watching the beacon," the android said. His voice scraped like dragged metal. "Unit-47. They called me Sledge. I clear rubble. I build." He looked past her at the scouts, then back. "The rodent trusts you. Come in before they turn around." Genevieve slipped through the gap. Sledge dragged the stone shut behind her. Inside, dust hung thick over broken pews. Green shoots pushed through cracked tile, one plant crowned with a single white bell-shaped bloom. High above, the dome opened to gray sky. "The scouts patrol the front," she said. "But not this wall." "No." Sledge crossed to a tarp and pulled it back. Beneath lay a cross-shaped fixture, metal and glass, its core dark. "The beacon still has power. Light it, and every believer for miles knows this place stands again." "And every scout knows too," Genevieve said. Sledge set one heavy hand on the fixture. "Then we finish the walls first. Give them nothing to break through." The hamster chattered and hauled a length of pipe toward him. Genevieve knelt beside the beacon and traced the cross with her thumb. She had feared the open street. Now she had a way past it, an android's strength, and a hidden door the Dragon didn't know. She looked up at the broken dome. "We seal the church," she said. "Then we light the cross."

Sledge lifted a stone block toward the broken wall. Halfway up, his arm locked. The block dropped and cracked the tile. He stood frozen, one eye flickering amber, joints grinding like gravel in a pipe. "Sledge?" Genevieve reached for him. His shoulder was hot under her hand. "Joint's dry," he said. "Salvaged cable. No lubricant left. It seizes under load." He forced the arm down, slow and stiff. "I can't fortify the wall like this." Genevieve looked at the gap in the stone, still open to the street. Without his strength, the sealing stopped. And an unsealed wall meant the Dragon could break in. She had no oil, no parts, no way to keep him running. The hidden door scraped inward. Genevieve grabbed her cross and stepped between Sledge and the opening. A huge man ducked through, leather vest over tattooed arms, red hair spiked stiff. She had seen that vest before, on the scouts who patrolled the front. A raider. One of the Dragon. He raised both hands, empty. A small brass cross hung at his throat. "Don't run. I'm not here for you." His voice was low and quick. "I've watched you two working. I'm on your side." "You wear their leather," Genevieve said. Her grip on the cross tightened. "I do. For now." He touched the brass cross. "Viktor. I've hidden this under my shirt for two years. I want out." He set a metal can on the tile and slid it toward Sledge with his boot. "Machine oil. From their motor pool. Won't be missed for a day." Sledge's eye tracked the can. "Why bring it to me." "Because you're the only thing here that can lift a wall," Viktor said. "And I can't seal this church alone." Genevieve did not lower the cross. But she picked up the can, unscrewed the cap, and smelled it. Oil. She knelt at Sledge's seized shoulder and found the joint seam. "Pour it in the gap," Sledge said. "Work the arm." She tipped the can. Oil ran into the joint. Sledge bent his elbow, once, twice. The grinding faded to a smooth hum. He flexed his fist and the amber eye steadied. He lifted the cracked block one-handed and pressed it into the wall gap. "It holds," he said. Genevieve breathed out. "Thank you." She looked at Viktor, still unsure, but the wall was closing. Viktor moved to the door and stopped. "One more thing." He pointed at the plant near the pews, the one with the single white bell bloom. "That flower. Boil the leaves, soak a rag. The scouts breathe it and they sleep. I've used it to slip past night watch." He glanced up the street through the gap. "You'll need it. They rotate the patrol at dark, and the new man counts heads at every door." He slipped out. The stone scraped shut. Sledge fit another block. The wall grew. But now Genevieve knew the Dragon would count doors tonight, and one of theirs was hidden behind stone.