Atlas finished the fake report in under ten minutes.
He kept the language dry, obedient, and just vague enough to sound helpful without giving away anything useful. "Observed minor spatial anomalies near the southern gate. Will monitor for further irregularities. Awaiting liaison instructions."
He signed it with a quick swipe and sent it off through the secure channel. The tablet chimed once—confirmation received. Councilor Raphael would probably read it within the hour and feel that small, smug sense of control he loved so much.
Good. Let them feel in control.
Atlas leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling panels that hummed with soft white light. The Amrit sat on the desk like a golden heartbeat wrapped in black cloth.
Even through the suppression layers he could feel its warmth—quiet, patient, and dangerous as hell. It wasn't just power. It was possibility, raw and waiting.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
"Enter," Atlas said without turning his head.
