Xv-827

Her blood turned to ice. XV-827 . It wasn’t the planet’s name. It was the prisoner’s.

XV-827 wasn’t a planet. It was a vault. xv-827

The last thing she heard, before her suit gave out, was a whisper—not from the planet, but from the void where XV-827 had been. A single, fading thought, confused and hollow. Her blood turned to ice

The amber symbols on the wall behind her flared brighter. The sphere’s violet surface rippled, and a wave of nausea crashed through her. Not physical. Cognitive. Her name flickered. For a split second, she couldn't remember if she was Elara Venn or something else. She saw the Sisyphus not as her ship, but as a prison. The reactor wasn’t failing—it was a timer for her liberation. It was the prisoner’s