The archive corridor was on the second basement level, east wing.
Neva had been to it twice before — both times for routine document verification, the kind of administrative work that didn't require a panel meeting or a formal escort. She knew its layout: sixty feet, obsidian walls, crystal lighting at intervals, one junction at the midpoint where the corridor branched left toward storage and right toward the archive room itself. She had a clearance badge, a reference number, and approximately twenty minutes before the 4 p.m. team call she needed to be back at EMBER Studio for.
She turned into the corridor at the midpoint.
Dacre was at the other end.
He had come from the archive direction — his panel meeting had been scheduled until 4:30, which meant it had ended early, which meant nei
