The air in the real Rift Valley didn't taste like the sterile, metallic oxygen of the simulation. It tasted of rain soaked red soil, wild jasmine, and something acrid like an electrical fire that had been extinguished by a thunderstorm. Nala pushed herself up from the dirt, her muscles screaming in protest. The weight of her own body felt like a lead suit.
"Careful," Leo said, reaching out to steady her. His touch was warm, his skin rough and calloused. It was the most beautiful thing Nala had ever felt. "Your nervous system just did a hard-reboot from a digital god. Give it a second to remember how to be human."
Nala leaned against the rusted crate, her eyes fixed on the massive obsidian spire in the distance. It stood where the Anchor’s bunker used to be, a jagged tooth of black glass
