Atlas followed Elara into the personnel archive wing expecting dust, old ledgers, and maybe a few boring minutes of Raphael's analysts wasting their time.
Instead, the moment the door sealed behind them, a low chime rang out like someone had dropped a coin in a very old machine.
A scan line swept over him from head to toe. Red text flashed in the air.
*Anomalous entity detected. Fractured soul signature matches probable script corruption. Activating Emergency Protocol Theta-9.*
Elara's shoulders stiffened. "Theta-9 was supposed to be decommissioned two hundred years ago. Raphael signed the order himself."
"Guess he missed one," Atlas said.
The floor dropped.
Not metaphorically. The entire wing collapsed into a pocket realm with a wet pop, like a soap bubble forming around them. When the light settled, they stood in a pastel nightmare.
