[COLOR=GRAY][CENTER][COLOR=8A9A5B][sup]_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sup][/COLOR][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/3pHkh7d0lzM2AldUtz2x37?si=b485574b3dde45c7][img]https://i.imgur.com/J2U7cX4.jpeg[/img][/url][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=8A9A5B][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR][I] The Foundation Institute[/I] - [I] Atlantic Ocean[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Human #5.037:[/b][/COLOR][I] In the Absence of Light[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][COLOR=8A9A5B][SUP][sub]_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________[/sub][/SUP][/COLOR][indent][sub][color=8A9A5B][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR][I] N/A[/I][/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=8A9A5B][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR][COLOR=GRAY][I] Nothing Left to Burn[/I][/color][/right][/SUP][/indent][/color]

[indent][color=#a9a9a9]The sharp tang of bleach and saltwater hit her lungs as Harper drew a deep breath, the scent acrid and abrasive. It clung to her senses with a foreign intensity, a stark contrast to the natural, wild fragrances she’d left behind at Pacific Royal. For a fleeting moment, she let her eyes drift closed, surrendering to memory. She imagined the earthy pine along the forest trails she’d jogged each morning, the saltiness of the sea breeze wrapping around her, even the cool, dewy scent of the grass on her favorite training field, real or simulated. The echoes of laughter, teasing voices, familiar footsteps—her friends seemed close, just out of reach, as if a mere turn could bring them into focus.[/color]

[right][color=#a9a9a9][sub][i][s]Oh, how much she missed her illusions sometimes, however well they’d fooled her.[/s][/i][/sub][/color][/right]

[color=#a9a9a9]Harper’s steps were careful, each movement measured as she followed the sound of shuffling feet around her. The rhythmic sway of the docking pod beneath her made her tighten her grip around the strap of her bag, her knuckles going pale as she forced herself to stay steady. Without her sight, every small movement felt magnified, as though her senses were stretching to fill the gaps, her instincts doing their best to make up for the darkness. Every nerve in her body was attuned to the faintest details she could catch, every beat of her heart amplified as she tried to decipher this sterile, unfamiliar place. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Gone were the soft echoes of life from the island—the gentle rustling of leaves, the occasional birdsong, the subtle hum of distant voices. Here, the Foundation's atmosphere was stifling in its silence, void of warmth, as though the air itself had been scrubbed down, sanitized of anything comforting.[/color][i][color=#8a9a5b] Function over form[/color][/i][color=#a9a9a9], she thought, a bitter edge to her thoughts. There was nothing human about this place—just a cold, clinical efficiency that seemed to demand compliance. Every trace of familiarity had been stripped away, leaving only the barest, most utilitarian shapes, devoid of comfort or identity.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“Here.”[/color][color=#a9a9a9] The clipped voice startled her from her left, and she turned instinctively toward it. A pair of scrubs was thrust into her hands, the rough, unyielding fabric pressing against her fingers like sandpaper. She ran her thumb over the coarse material, taking in the way it felt devoid of anything personal, anything welcoming. The subdued, angry murmurs of those around her hinted that she wasn’t alone in her distaste. She clutched the scrubs to her chest, feeling their almost mechanical practicality—a discomfort radiating from every fibre, alien and cold. She hadn’t even taken a step inside, and already, the weight of this place had settled over her.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]The faint rustling of clothes and reluctant shuffling filled the pod as others began to change into the assigned uniforms, the sounds subdued yet charged with quiet frustration. The tension around her was palpable, simmering in the tight clench of her jaw, a silent battle she fought to control. Harper forced herself to clamp down on her own rising discontent, pressing it beneath the layers of discipline that had kept her steady through everything up until now. But even that carefully built resolve felt frayed, like it was stretched too thin to contain the irritation bubbling up inside her.[/color]

[color=#8a9a5b][i]Just like the Trials[/i][/color][color=#a9a9a9], she thought, a bitter taste in her mouth as her head conjured the image of the endless, unreachable expanse of ocean outside cracking glass. She could feel it here just as she’d done in there—the water surrounding them like a cage. There was no land, no escape route, only this strange, phlegmatic place surrounded by miles of open sea.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]A nearby student gave a disbelieving sigh. Harper could hear the reluctant rustling as another student began changing, submitting to the Foundation’s demands with a resignation that mirrored her own. Her hands trembled slightly as she held the scrubs, the rough fabric biting into her skin. A sharp reprimand from an attendant snapped her out of her anxious thoughts, forcing her back to the present. She fumbled with her jacket, slipping her arms free and folding it with deliberate care. What should have been a simple task—changing her clothes—felt like a drawn-out test of patience, every movement dragging against the strain.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Finally, she tugged the stiff, white scrubs over her own clothes, shivering as the cold, unyielding fabric settled against her skin. It felt foreign, like she was donning a stranger’s identity to fit into this rigid, new world. When she’d gotten rid of her sketchbook back on the island with Banjo, it had been her choice—a conscious act of letting go. But here, it felt forced, like they were robbing her of everything established in her personhood, leaving only the emptiness of the Foundation in its place.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]A faint metallic clink shifted her attention to what was likely a bin where students were dropping their belongings for inspection. She reached for the strap of her duffel, fingers brushing over it as she hesitated, unwilling to let go of the few items she had left. [/color][i][color=#8a9a5b]Inspection,[/color][/i][color=#a9a9a9] she thought bitterly. [/color][i][color=#8a9a5b]As if they’re searching for something they don’t want us to keep.[/color][/i][color=#a9a9a9] The thought gnawed at her, making her wonder what exactly they were trying to strip away. What more could they possibly take? [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Harper edged forward after reluctantly giving over her things, each step punctuated by the shuffling of nervous students around her. Her fingers brushed along the row of bodies in front of her, her movements cautious, every fibre in her body attuned to the sounds and stifled breaths surrounding her. The low, buzzing murmur of discontent grew louder around her, laced with notes of fear and frustration. Yet for every voice that rose even slightly in protest, there was a quick, sharp reprimand, emphasizing just how pointless defiance was in this place. The Foundation didn’t need to demand obedience; the sterile silence and stiff uniforms did that well enough on their own.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“Please place your left wrist in the hole to your left, underside facing up.” [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]She could barely see, but the terror in the voice ahead of her, the raw scream that cut through the stillness then, left no ambiguity. The sound clawed through the room, breaking open the tense silence with a visceral crack. Harper’s heartbeat quickened, hammering against her ribs as the smell of burnt flesh filled her senses, thick and stifling. She caught herself clutching her own wrist, her fingers pressing into the delicate skin, as though anchoring herself, as if she could preserve her own sense of self in the face of whatever waited for her.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]How much more could they possibly take? [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]The answer: [/color][color=#a9a9a9][i]As much as they could. Nothing [/i][/color][i][b][color=#a9a9a9]less[/color][/b][/i][color=#a9a9a9][i] than their sense of humanity. [/i][/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Another scream came, guttural and defiant, followed by the choked sobs of those around her. Harper’s resolve wavered, but eventually, she found herself at the front, facing the slot where others had braced their hands.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]The voice barked, [/color][color=#ffffff]"Next!"[/color][color=#a9a9a9] sharp and close. Before Harper could fully steel herself, a rough hand clamped around her wrist, yanking her forward with a force that left no room for hesitation. Her arm was wrenched into place beneath the machine, a clamp locking down on her wrist with a cold, metallic snap that sent a shiver through her. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Trapped, sightless, she braced herself, though she knew nothing could prepare her for what was coming.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]A high-pitched hum began to build, vibrating through the machine, through the metal around her wrist, and finally into her bones. It climbed with a relentless rhythm, a pulse that seemed to echo her own racing heart, drawing the moment out until her muscles tightened, every nerve stretched to its breaking point. Her fingers twitched involuntarily, instinct urging her to pull away, but the clamp held fast. There was no escape—only the inevitable, looming like a wave about to crash.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Then, in a flash, the searing pain hit. White-hot agony tore through her wrist, as if her very skin were being peeled away by fire. Her body jerked instinctively, a strangled gasp forcing its way out as she fought not to cry out. The stench of her own flesh burning filled her nostrils, thick and nauseating, coating her senses in a sickening layer of raw reality. Her eyes stung beneath the blindfold, the heat and pain merging into one unbearable force that clawed at her resolve.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Every instinct screamed for her to pull away, to tear her arm free from the inferno. But she held on, her fingers curling into fists, nails digging into her palms, grounding herself through the pain. She forced herself to stay still, breathing through the tremors that wracked her body, letting the fire scar her wrist without letting it scar her spirit. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]When the clamp finally released, her arm fell limp to her side, the fresh brand still burning against her skin. She staggered, cradling her wrist, fingertips brushing over the swollen, raised edges. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Another scar, another tally mark in a long line of painful memories, but this one felt different somehow—etched with the intent to strip away more than just her sense of safety. To erase every piece of her, leaving only a cog in the relentless machine of the Foundation.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]As Harper stepped forward, cradling her burned wrist, the faint murmurs of other students drifted around her, one word catching her ear:[/color]

[color=#ffffff][b]“Tiamat.”[/b][/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]The sound of it drove deeper than the burn in her wrist, freezing her in place. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the bustling world around her fell away, leaving only that name reverberating inside her. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Amma. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Amma, fierce and powerful, was emblazoned on the unseen banner above her like a goddess chiselled from stone, forever fixed in allegiance to this hollow, impenetrable place. Except she wasn’t simply Amma here; she was Tiamat, a phantom moulded by the Foundation into a weaponized icon, an ideal they all would be forced to face. The girl who’d once felt real—her laugh, her defiance—had been crystallized, twisted, and placed out of reach. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]It struck her then, the brutal truth of this place: the Foundation didn’t just claim bodies; it reshaped them, carved away their humanity until only the pieces it could use remained. They weren’t here to build heroes or nurture skills. No, they were here to create symbols—loyal soldiers, faceless and bound to the system, drained of everything that made them whole.[/color]

[color=#ffffff]“Keep it moving!” [/color][color=#a9a9a9]The harsh voice from behind jarred her back to the present, prodding the line forward.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]She moved as instructed, footsteps tentative as she felt herself guided down the hall, then nudged into a small, barren cell. The metal door clanged shut behind her with a finality that seemed to swallow every sound, enclosing her in an almost oppressive stillness. Moments later, the flicker of light overhead vanished, plunging the space into darkness so complete she could[i] feel[/i] it, as if the walls around her themselves had vanished. Harper stood still…[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]and then, slowly, she lowered herself to the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees in a makeshift shield against the nothingness. [/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]As she sat alone, her fingers drifted to the brand on her wrist, tracing its jagged edges, each brush of her touch reigniting the sting. She forced herself to believe that, like every other wound she had endured, this too would heal in time. Even if the scar never truly faded, she reassured herself, the pain would lessen, retreating into the background of countless other marks she carried. This would become just another among many—etched on her skin, perhaps, but unable to define her.[/color]

[right][color=#a9a9a9]And yet…[/color][/right]

[color=#a9a9a9]even as she told herself this, the blackness around her felt smothering, as though it was consuming her whole. She fought to push the thought away, repeating to herself that the brand wouldn’t change who she was, that this place would not reshape her soul. But then another fear crept in, a quieter, more insidious thought: [/color][color=#a9a9a9][i]What if she was meant to stay this way?[/i][/color][color=#a9a9a9] Hidden from herself, from others, trapped in perpetual darkness, like a blade waiting for its wielder. That was what they wanted, wasn’t it? To strip her of everything—her identity, her strength, her sense of self—until she was no more than an obedient shadow. A thing with no direction.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]Harper’s fingers drifted up to the fabric covering her eyes, resting there briefly as if deciding. She had chosen this darkness before, a barrier between her and the rest of the world, a way to control the flow of light and sight. But now… something inside her rebelled against it. In one swift movement, she slipped her fingers beneath the blindfold and tugged it down, letting it rest in her lap and exposing her face to the emptiness around her.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]For a moment, there was nothing. Only the same void pressing down on her, lifeless and unwavering. But just as she was ready to dismiss the flutter in her chest as some trick of exhaustion, there it was—a weak glimmer, something she felt almost as much as she saw. It hovered at the limits of perception, like the memory of a spark or the warmth of sunlight straining through layers of deep, choking smoke. Her heart rate seemed to slow, each beat stretching out longer than the one before, as if the very fabric of time had softened around her, creating a fragile pause.[/color]

[color=#a9a9a9]She blinked, a slow, deliberate motion that felt suspended in air, and in that heartbeat, every sensation intensified. The dull ache in her wrist throbbed with startling clarity, the fabric in her lap coarse beneath her fingertips. But just as quickly as it had come, the sensation faded, leaving only a soft pulse lingering in her chest, a hint of something almost too intangible to name.[/color]
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