Galathea Brooks walked slowly once again through the corridor beneath Artemis Tower with one hand pressed against the inside of her coat pocket where her fingers curled tightly around nothing at all.
The marks beneath her skin burned tonight.
Not sharply anymore.
That would have been easier to tolerate.
Now the sensation resembled pressure beneath bone, heavy and persistent, as though something inside her arms had been slowly wrapped in tightening wire over the past several days. Every movement dragged faint resistance behind it.
Her lack of sleep made everything worse.
The corridor lights blurred occasionally at the edges before sharpening again.
Somewhere deeper in the archive, machinery hummed steadily behind reinforced walls.
Normal building sounds.
At least that part still felt real.
Galathea exhaled slowly through her nose before muttering toward the empty hallway, "If something jumps out at me tonight, I'm setting the entire archive on fire."
