The chamber wasn't part of Artemis.
Galathea Brooks knew that immediately.
Even before the door sealed behind her.
Even before the last echo of footsteps faded.
The room should have been familiar --another controlled environment beneath the gallery, another space designed for conservation and containment. The walls were smooth, the lighting neutral, the air carefully regulated.
But something about it resisted recognition.
Like it didn't want to be understood.
"Stay within the circle," Dr. Ibarra had said. "Don't move unless instructed."
"Do not respond to anything you see." He continued.
Galathea had nodded.
She remembered that.
But now--
Standing at the center of the chamber, the words felt distant. Unimportant.
Because the room wasn't a room anymore.
The floor beneath her feet shifted.
Not physically but perceptually.
The solid surface lost weight. Edges blurred. Color thinned.
Galathea blinked-- and the world disappeared.
White. Not bright. Not blinding.
