Gray walls. Gray floor. Gray ceiling. A single figure sat in the center of the room on a gray chair at a gray table. Female. Mid-thirties. Business attire. Perfect posture.
She sat completely still.
Elara walked closer, circling the figure. The woman's eyes were open but empty. No, not empty—full of something too large to name, something that had eaten everything else and left only its own crushing weight.
"*Do you know what this is?*" the voice asked quietly.
"Sensory deprivation chamber of some kind," Elara guessed. "Psychological isolation environment."
"*Close. This is where souls go when they commit suicide.*"
The woman at the table didn't react. Didn't blink. Just sat there, breathing, existing, trapped in whatever space existed behind those empty eyes.
