The elevator didn't list the floor.
It dropped past Sector 12 with no lights, no beeps, no voice prompt. Just a low mechanical hum and the sensation of pressure building in the skull.
Aya stood beside Rook in silence. No questions now. Only breath.
When the lift stopped, the doors opened onto a hallway of white steel and violet haze.
There were no guards.
No cameras.
Only one word, etched in microtype above the entryway:
THETA.
They moved quietly.
The floor beneath their boots was rubber-sealed metal, built to muffle every step.
Every light flickered like it was struggling to remember how to glow.
Rook accessed the wall terminal. It required no passcode. No biometric.
Because they never expected anyone to come here uninvited.
He decrypted the access logs. One entry pinged, timestamped two days ago.
The user ID was scrambled — but the path it left behind led to a single archive room, far down the eastern corridor.
They walked toward it.
Every door along the way was sealed shut, marked in black with codenames.
HOLLOWFRAMELOYALTY ENGINESIMULACRUM VESSELPROJECT: EIDOLON
Aya's fingers twitched.
Rook didn't slow.
They reached the archive room. The door opened without a sound.
Inside: six terminals. A table. A chair.
And a projection node still active.
Rook tapped the console. A file appeared.
VOICELOG 47-BFormat: Confession | Subject: Vale, RookSecurity Clearance: ELEVATED (Scorpio+)
He pressed play.
Aya's voice filled the room.
Not exactly hers — but close enough it felt like fingernails dragging down her spine.
"He doesn't sleep unless I leave the lights off. Doesn't trust sound. Doesn't trust anyone."
"But I watch him. Every night. I think he knows."
"He's planning something. Something massive. I don't think he even knows I'm not real."
Aya stepped back.
Her breath caught.
"Sometimes I dream of being her. The real me. Sometimes I wonder if I was ever born at all."
Rook froze.
Because the voice was calm. Soft. Emotional in a way Aya never allowed herself to be.
That voice sounded…
Programmed.
"Pause it," Aya said, her voice hoarse.
Rook stopped the log.
"She's not just a clone," Aya said. "She was placed. Near us. To watch you."
Rook nodded once. "To replace you if needed. Or me if she could."
Aya looked at him. "You think she's still nearby?"
He opened the access logs again. Searched movement after her last exit from Pod 47.
One code pinged.
A temporary security clearance attached to a "Junior Support Aide."
Alias: Ava Spire.Sector 2 — Student Surveillance Intern.
Rook stared at it.
"That's a fake student ID," he said. "And she's inside the dorm zones."
Aya clenched her fists. "Then we find her."
"No," Rook said.
Aya turned sharply. "Why not?"
He looked at her.
Because there was no fear in her anymore.
Only the beginning of something colder.
"If we do this wrong," he said, "we kill the wrong ghost."
Back in his dorm that night, Rook listened to the recording one more time.
Just one line:
"Sometimes I dream of being her."
And he thought — not about Aya.
But about himself.
And whether anyone could dream of being him.