Not an extra. Not a crew member. The shape wore modern clothes—a hoodie, jeans. Its face was a smooth, featureless oval of static.

Her finger hovered over the Y key.

Frame 43,218.

Elara sat in the sudden dark of her room. She didn’t move. After a long minute, the screen flickered back to life. Not to her desktop. Not to the video player.

> C:\USERS\ELARA\DESKTOP\OUTLANDER_S04E13_240P.MKV_EXTRACTED_SIGNAL

And on her dresser, the salvaged hard drive’s label stares back: “Property of R. Wakefield. Do not open until 2024.”

She looked at the reflection in her dead black screen—her own face, just as pixelated, just as trapped. She thought of Jamie. Of Claire. Of the life she’d watched a hundred times.

Elara’s breath caught. On screen, neither Jamie nor Claire reacted. The camera held. Then, the shape raised a hand. It wasn't waving. It was pointing. Pointing directly at the lens. Pointing at her .