
Terminal has always existed, untouched by time, waiting in the space between known places. No two travelers experience it the same way some walk through vast corridors lined with glass, others through dim halls where only the rain hitting the glass and the echoes of their footsteps break the silence. Terminal does not shift, yet it does not stay the same. Some paths lead to familiar OSF locations, others to silent voids. There are no caretakers, no maintenance, yet the structure remains pristine. It is not in the past, nor the future it just is. Travelers arrive without knowing why, their only choice to move forward. Some vanish into the unknown, others wander endlessly. Terminal does not guide nor stop them it simply remains. Beyond the corridors, beyond the rain-streaked windows, the question lingers: where does the next path lead?
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