The silence of the meadow was synthetic—too still, too perfect, like a photograph held under glass. Sarah stood, the grass feeling suspiciously like carpet beneath her soles. The man before her, his face weathered by the phantom stress of the last year, clutched the rusted data-drive as if it were a holy relic."Zayed?" Sarah breathed, her voice trembling. "How are you here? You were… you were in the crater."Zayed’s eyes didn't focus on her. They darted toward the horizon, where the steel ribs of a rising, phantom Al-Fay pierced the clouds. "I’m not sure, Sarah. I fell. I remember the sensation of falling through the concrete, and then… I woke up here. With this." He held up the drive. "It was in my pocket. It feels like it’s burning."Sarah stepped closer, her instincts screaming. She reached out, but he flinched, the drive sparking with a faint, violet luminescence. "Don't touch it. That’s not a data-drive anymore.