Direction leans into anachronism—sets that look like undersea museums, coral like ribcages, submarines with brass keys and breadcrumb trails. Atlantis isn’t merely a location but a politics: a city that fell because it believed too comfortably in its own architecture of power. Milo’s return is less about reclaiming place and more about answering an old ledger of obligations. He navigates corridors lined with murals that have been retouched a dozen times; each brushstroke is a rephrased apology.