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It had started three weeks ago as a minor anomaly. A new virtual private network server, designated "Amarat Raygan"—Persian for "The Towers of Silence," a fact that made Arjun’s skin crawl—had spun up on the company’s backbone. No work order. No developer signature. It simply appeared , like a fungal bloom in the dark.

YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE COME BACK.

Arjun typed: ssh vpn-srwr-amarat-raygan -UPD- Vpn srwr amarat raygan -UPD-

Arjun hated this place. Not because of the cold, or the hum that vibrated in his molars, but because of the name . Every console, every root directory, every silent handshake between machines bore the same ghostly signature: . It had started three weeks ago as a minor anomaly