Vid_20230110_104327_222.mp4 -

In the frame stands Elias. He isn’t looking at the camera; he’s looking at a rusted gate blocking an access road. He’s wearing a heavy canvas jacket and holding a vintage brass key that looks like it belongs to a cathedral, not a backcountry fence.

"You sure about the coordinates?" a voice asks from behind the camera—breath visible in the sharp air. VID_20230110_104327_222.mp4

As the gate swings wide, the camera pans to the right. There, hidden by a trick of the topography and the morning mist, is a bridge. It doesn't span a river or a canyon. It sits in the middle of a flat, dusty basin, arching toward nothing, its stone pillars glowing in the weak January sun. In the frame stands Elias

The filename "VID_20230110_104327_222.mp4" suggests a raw, unedited moment captured on a smartphone on . "You sure about the coordinates

The camera shakes slightly as the recording begins. The lens is clouded with condensation from a coat pocket. A thumb wipes it clear, revealing a stretch of empty, frost-covered highway in the high desert.

"Ten forty-three," Elias mutters, checking his watch. "Right on time."