Elias checked the restraints in the code one more time. Local pocket only. No mass transfer outside the ring. Return lock at seven-tenths of a second differential. He did not let himself think of the last time he had stood over a live field while another man watched the numbers and trusted him.

“Recording is live,” he said.

Amara did not take her eyes off the token. “Stop now, Elias.”

He touched the final control.

The light around the token sharpened so bright the edge of it cut across the table and threw thin shadows over their hands. The air above the ring bent, not much, just enough to trouble the eye. The token blurred. For a fraction of a second it seemed doubled, one image sitting a breath ahead of the other. Then the center of the field went empty.

Liora sucked in a breath. Jonas took one step closer. Dev said, very softly, “No.”

For less than a second, the ring stayed empty. The side display counted down. At zero the token was back where it had been, flat on the glass, spinning once on its edge before it settled with a faint metallic click.

The room stayed silent long enough for the data to populate. Then the readouts appeared in a column: surface temp increase of four-point-two degrees. Local clock drift zero. Token chip discrepancy: plus zero-point-seven seconds.

Impossible, if the token had never left.