The Doom Core had changed.
There were no visions now. No branching futures. No impossible landscapes of memory and possibility.
Only Galathea.
And something standing before her.
It had no fixed shape. At first, it resembled a person formed from black glass and silver light, tall and indistinct, its features shifting whenever she tried to focus on them. It did not loom. It did not threaten.
It simply stood there.
Almost human.
Almost gentle.
Galathea kept her distance.
"What are you?"
The figure tilted its head.
"You have called me many things."
"Doom."
"Yes."
"Monster."
"Yes."
"Prison."
A pause.
"Yes."
Galathea narrowed her eyes. "And what do you call yourself?"
The answer came softly. "Necessary."
Her stomach tightened.
The figure stepped closer, but the distance between them somehow remained unchanged.
"You fear me because you believe uncertainty makes you free."
Galathea's jaw clenched. "It does."
