The floodlights dimmed one by one until the ridge went back to being a ridge and not a stage. Rotors thinned to a far hum. The last drone winked out over the basin and the sky closed behind it like nothing had been there at all.
Alteea's voice filled the open channel, clean and official. "All divisions, stand down. Incident 167-B reclassified as a "visual resonance anomaly" Maintain perimeter discipline. No confirmed hostiles."
The words were a blanket people were happy to pull over their heads. Shoulders dropped. Someone laughed too loud. A Warden clapped another on the back like the world made sense again.
Raizen's slate buzzed in his palm.
**PRIVATE // LIGHTHOUSE**
He didn't move his mouth. He didn't look at anyone.
Alteea's whisper slid under the noise, in his ear. A secret channel. "Don't talk. Listen."
The channel had no interference, an uncommon thing in that area.
"Those numbers weren't noise. They were real."
"What was it?" he breathed, hardly a sound.
