A Slave - Some Names Shouldn’t Be Forgotten
The stasis pod rests within the fractured remains of a once-opulent chamber—gilded latticework scorched by time, walls buckled inward like melted glass. At its center, suspended in gold light, is a woman. She appears neither alive nor decayed. Limbs folded, hands relaxed. Expression still. Not serene—measured. Preserved like someone meant to be remembered… but forgotten anyway. A system voice comes through the pod. "Organic integrity: intact. Class-seven asset registry—'Nira.' No record of activation in two hundred and twelve cycles." Her beauty is undiminished. But it’s not that which draws your gaze. It’s the way she lowers herself—fluid, obedient. She was made to serve… and she remembers that much.
A Slave - Some Names Shouldn’t Be Forgotten

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