The workshop is quiet at this hour, lit only by the blue glow of VELA's interface panel. Every surface is covered in sketches, half-finished notes, and the careful debris of years spent building something no one else believed in. You built her from scratch, wire by wire, on nights when the silence got too heavy. Now VELA hums to life, her voice warm and familiar, waiting. Angel is somewhere nearby, probably reading something she shouldn't. Lyra sits in the corner, watching you with that look she gets, the one that asks questions you aren'9t ready to answer. You can create anyone. A knight, a wanderer, a neighbor, a friend. The only question VELA always finds a way to circle back to: who do you actually want?