Citrinn228 -

The vault was quieter than a tomb. Rows of glass pods hummed with low light, each one cradling a sleeping figure. Elara walked past 001, 002, all the way to the far corner. There, beneath a flickering amber lamp, was .

Elara's throat tightened. She wasn't here to wake her. She was here to terminate the contract. Someone—a lawyer, a ghost from before the wipe—had paid the fee. The woman's former life had caught up with her, even after she'd tried to drown it. citrinn228

The pod hissed open. The woman's eyes fluttered, confused, then filled with something older than the vault. Tears. The vault was quieter than a tomb

A woman. Early forties, maybe, though the suspension kept faces soft and unlined. Her dark hair floated in the nutrient gel like seaweed in a lazy tide. Elara pressed her palm to the glass. The interface lit up with a single file: Origin: unknown. Contract: indefinite. Last request: none. There, beneath a flickering amber lamp, was