Later, people would argue about when it went wrong.
Some would say it was the rig.
Some would say it was bad luck.
Some would blame the wind.
But Aria knew the truth.
It started before the snap.
Thirty Seconds Earlier
The platform had stabilized.
Barely.
Ben's voice was tight but controlled.
"Hold position.
Do not change elevation."
Aria stood still.
The wind brushed past her shoulders again.
She looked down.
Then—up.
At the wall.
Not the camera wall.
The structural wall.
The one that would matter if something failed.
"…Aria," Ben said carefully,
"stay exactly where you are."
She hesitated.
Just a fraction of a second.
"…The clearance is insufficient."
Ben frowned.
"Clearance for what?"
She answered calmly:
"For momentum."
Mason shouted from below:
"DO NOT SAY THAT WORD."
The Step No One Authorized
Aria lifted her foot.
Ben's hand flew toward the emergency stop.
"ARIA—"
She stepped up.
One rung higher.
Not dramatically.
Not recklessly.
Just enough.
The rig groaned.
Ben swore.
"That height isn't marked!"
Aria looked down.
"…It should be."
Daniel screamed:
"WHY IS SHE AUDITING THE BUILDING MID-SCENE?!"
Julian's voice cut in, sharp for the first time.
"Aria—come back down."
She glanced toward him.
"…I need more room."
"For what?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
She was already calculating.
The Wire Team Panics Quietly
Ben's team watched the load distribution spike.
"Left side tension increasing."
"Compensation lagging."
"Why did she climb higher?"
Ben clenched his jaw.
"She's creating margin."
"For what scenario?"
Ben didn't answer.
Because he knew.
Aria's Reason (Unspoken)
From that extra height, she could see it.
The angle.
The arc.
The distance to the wall.
If she fell from here—
She could reach it.
If she fell from the original mark—
She couldn't.
The thought was clinical.
Not fear.
Preparation.
Mason's Voice Breaks
"ARIA.
COME. DOWN."
She looked at him.
The distance between them was absurd now.
"…If I move down," she said quietly,
"the margin disappears."
Mason didn't understand.
But Ben did.
And Ben went pale.
The Half-Second of Realization
The wind surged.
The rig responded too slowly.
The left-side cable took the load it shouldn't have.
Ben whispered:
"No… no no no…"
Aria's fingers flexed.
Her weight shifted—instinctively.
Ben shouted:
"DON'T ADJUST—"
Too late.
Impact Without Impact
The sound came next.
Not loud.
Not cinematic.
Just a clean, mechanical truth.
SNAP.
For a heartbeat—
No one breathed.
Aria felt the sudden absence of resistance.
The platform tilted.
Gravity took over.
Closing Beat
As the world dropped away beneath her feet, one thought crossed Aria's mind:
Good. I climbed high enough.
And then—
She fell.