The map led them high into the mountains—above the tree line, where clouds spilled like rivers across jagged cliffs. The air was thinner here, and the sky felt closer, like the heavens were holding their breath.
The Air Shrine wasn't buried or broken.
It Located at such a high altitude that ordinary people cannot climb or track there.
Not literally—but the structure was perched atop a narrow ridge, suspended between two peaks by long-forgotten architecture. Wind howled through stone corridors shaped like wings, whistling low songs in tongues long dead.
They stood in awe for a long moment before stepping in.
Then Rai froze.
Someone was already there.
She stood near the center of the shrine—slim, pale hair caught in the wind, eyes closed like she'd been waiting.
Iris.
They recognized her from campus—she'd been missing for months. Vanished without a trace. Now, she was here, barefoot, standing in front of a statue of a faceless figure with arms spread wide, feathers carved into the stone.
"I saw this place in my dream," she whispered, not opening her eyes. "I didn't think it was real."
Owen stepped forward cautiously. "Are you alright?"
She finally opened her eyes—blue and hollow, like sky through frost.
"No," she said. "But I think I'm where I'm supposed to be."
The wind inside the shrine shifted.
Not cold. Not violent.
Just… aware.
It curled around Iris, lifting strands of her hair, brushing past the others as if testing them.
Cyrus muttered, "This place gives me chills."
"You're fire," Marin said. "Everything gives you chills."
"Flame's still hotter than sarcasm."
She smirked despite herself.
Iris placed her hand on the statue's chest.
The wind stopped.
The world paused.
And for a heartbeat, Rai felt it.
A thread connecting them all—thin, delicate, but real.
Then the wind returned.
Softer.
Gentler.
That night, they stayed in a nearby outpost cabin. It was too far to hike back.
Emma sat across from Rai, tracing her finger along a frost-edged window.
"You ever think about what happens when this ends?" she asked.
"If it ends," Rai replied.
She smiled without humor. "That's what I'm afraid of. Not losing. Just… becoming someone I don't recognize."
He didn't answer.
But he knew the feeling.
She looked at him then, really looked at him.
"You cry in your sleep," she said softly.
Rai's throat tightened. "Only after the shrines."
Emma nodded. "You think it's memory?"
"No," he said. "It's grief. I just don't know for who yet."
Iris had a dream that night.
Her first.
A chamber of glass and wind.
Voices like flutes.
And one—clear, aching:
"We must do it for him."
She woke with tears she didn't understand.
Elsewhere in the cabin, Cyrus quietly pulled a blanket over Marin, who had fallen asleep at the table mid-research.
He didn't say anything.
Didn't need to.
Owen watched from the doorway, quiet as ever.
Ronald watched Owen.
And said nothing.
But in his pocket, his phone buzzed with a new message:
"Air Shrine confirmed. Proceed with caution. The girl is unknown. Track her dreams."
He locked the screen without responding.
His smile returned—just enough to fool the tired eyes in the room.