The name burned behind Elara's eyes: Unit: Elara-Prime.
Not a memory. Not a dream.
A designation.
The Wraith's lights flickered again slower this time, as if syncing to a heartbeat that didn't belong to any one of them.
"Unit," Elara murmured. "Not Commander. Not Pilot. Not even... human."
Behind her, Aeron approached cautiously, the shadows stretching between them. "You saw it too?"
She nodded. Her voice trembled, just enough for him to notice. "The ship recognized me. But not as me. As something else. A version I've never been."
Aeron's expression was unreadable. "Or one you're becoming."
A hum vibrated through the deck plating under their feet. Not the usual systems cycling—but a resonance, low and steady. A frequency that spoke in sensation rather than sound. Elara stepped closer to the console. Her fingertips hovered just above the interface, but the controls reacted without touch.
Glyphs bloomed like veins across the screen.
