The morning air in London was crisp, the kind that hinted at autumn. From the penthouse balcony, Emma watched the city stir with a mechanical rhythm, as though the world still ticked forward despite the cracks in its foundation. Beside her, Jack sipped his coffee, quiet and watchful.

"They found the file," he said without turning.

Emma lowered the journal in her lap. "The Dawn fragment?"

He nodded. "Or something close to it. A server farm in Zurich lit up last night. Not Spiral, but ...