The shuttle settled through a sky the color of old brass, its descent a steady thrum that felt like a metronome against Mira Calder’s ribs. From orbit the city had been an abstract; rings and spokes, a geometry that read like a diagram. Now, with the ramp yawning open and cold air spilling in, the diagram resolved into streets and terraces and the deliberate handiwork of builders who had trusted stone to carry their meaning forward.

"Measured everything," Jace Torv said, already at the ramp's edge, boots finding purchase on the packed soil with the easy confidence of a man who trusted instruments more than omens.

"The readings are clean," Rafi Chen replied, eyes on his wrist display. "No active biosignatures detected. Atmosphere's nominal with the use of a filter. There's a low electromagnetic noise centered under the main structure."

Saira N’Golo hung back a step, her gaze moving over the terraces as if she were cataloguing a specimen.

"It's not empty," she said. "It's been paused, intentionally."

"Paused how?" Jace asked, sweeping a handheld lidar across a low wall. The device painted the interior in a ghostly grid on his visor.

"Maintenance was stopped," Saira said. "Domestic items were left in place, pathways cleared. Someone preserved the mundane, the everyday."