The pre-dawn air was cold and still, thick with the smell of damp earth and decay from the landfill bowl below. Shihab moved like a specter, placing Ibtihal’s acoustic emitters along the access road. Each one was set to activate in a staggered sequence, creating a piercing, irresistible siren song that would lead the dead on a forced march into his trap. In the narrow throat of the central trench, he and Jawad had spent the previous night secretly laying the electrostatic nets, their wires hidden under filth, connected to a single remote trigger in Shihab’s hand.He stood now on the northern rim, looking down at the silent pit. The zip-line was anchored behind him, its cable a faint glint in the gloom, leading to the safety of the opposite ridge where Jawad was supposedly positioned with a rifle. Shihab’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of fear and grim determination.“It’s time,” he whispered to himself, and pressed the first button on his makeshift controller.

The satellite phone's chirp was a sound that always sent a jolt through Shihab, a tether to the most precious part of his heart that was far away. He answered it in the quiet of his quarters, his voice softening instantly. "Ayham?""Hey, brother," Ayham's voice came through, clearer and stronger than it had been in months. The background noise was the gentle crash of waves, a sound unimaginable in the dust of the city. "Just checking in. How's the empire building?"A genuine smile spread across Shihab's face. For the next half-hour, he talked. He didn't give a leader's report; he gave a brother's story. He told him about the wall, stone by backbreaking stone. He described Ibtihal and her tech, the clash and eventual fusion. He talked about the near-disaster at the landfill, leaving out no detail of his own foolishness, and the humbling rescue. He told him about Zayn and Layan, about Dr. Sami and the clay filters, about the football games in the dust. He painted a picture not just of s