The descent into the lower levels of Artemis was never meant to feel natural.
Galathea Brooks noticed that with every step.
The elevators didn't announce the floors anymore. The lights dimmed incrementally as they passed each level, as if the building itself resisted illumination the deeper they went. By the time the doors opened, the air had changed-- colder, denser, carrying a weight that had nothing to do with temperature.
Cael Alexander stepped out first.
Galathea followed.
The corridor ahead stretched long and narrow, lined with reinforced walls that didn't match the rest of Artemis. These weren't gallery finishes or conservation surfaces. These were built for containment.
For something that wasn't supposed to be seen.
"Welcome to the subterranean archive threshold," Cael said quietly.
Galathea glanced at him. "That sounds like something no one should be allowed near-- at all."
"Most people aren't-- or if I may put it in a better way-- most people shouldn't." Cael said.
