00:00:00
Stillness.
The air was different, old, dry, heavy with dust. Isla stood in the same facility, but everything was decayed. Rust ate the walls, the floor cracked under her bare feet.
Every clock was frozen at zero.
"Hello?" she called, but her voice barely carried.
No answer.
She walked the silent halls, passing the remnants of rooms she half remembered. The padded chamber was torn open. The mirrors were shattered. The Archive was dark.
At the end of a long corridor, she found a window.
Outside: a dead world. Ash falling like snow.
And in the glass, her reflection looked back, calm, quiet, whole.
"Where is everyone?" Isla whispered.
Her reflection smiled faintly. "Below the Quiet."
She touched the glass. It was warm.
The reflection leaned closer. "You set them free. All of them. But you stayed."
"Why?"
"Because something has to keep the silence alive."
The reflection's hand pressed flat against hers and this time, Isla felt a heartbeat beneath the glass.