Atlas sat on the edge of the stone bench in the tower's upper chamber, rubbing his temples.
The cultists were hidden away in the lower maintenance tunnels, safe for now. No one had come knocking. But something was wrong with him. Really wrong.
It started in the polished shield hanging on the wall. He caught his reflection while walking past, and the image didn't turn its head when he did. It just stared. Then it blinked slowly, out of sync.
"Great," Atlas muttered. "More system bullshit."
The reflection spoke. "You still think you can win this?"
Atlas froze. The voice was his own, but flatter. Tired. The kind of voice he used to have back on Earth when another overtime shift killed his weekend.
Elara looked up from sharpening her gauntlet blades. "What?"
"Nothing," Atlas said quickly. But the reflection kept talking.
"I had a fiancée named Sarah. You remember her name? Because it's getting fuzzy for me."
