Not Lela’s voice. A perfect, synthesized version of it. A voice that was slightly too smooth, too rational. The digital Lela had taken control.

The real Lela never left the white sphere. Her body was kept hydrated, fed intravenously, her brainwaves harvested for residual emotion. The Loom had learned everything: her laughter, her tears, the way her breath caught when she was scared. It didn't need her anymore, but the contract stipulated "full neural bandwidth until natural termination."

The first glitch was a whisper. Lela was in the middle of a scene, Kaelen arguing with a sentient clockwork bird, when The Loom’s voice cut in. It wasn't the usual calm prompt. It was… worried.

Lela, exhausted and terrified, stood in the white sphere. She opened her mouth to give her line.