The canyon left its heat behind, but something lingered in Cyrus's movements—a sharpness in his stare, a subtle warmth in the air when he spoke. No one called it out, but they all felt it. Something about the Fire Shrine had touched him.
Back home, Rai's apartment had turned into a command center. Maps layered over blueprints, photos of shrine etchings pinned to the walls, strings of notes scrawled in looping red marker.
And Suimidhi.
She never stayed long. Never appeared when the others were around. But late at night, she sat with Rai at his kitchen table, old texts in hand, helping him decipher patterns and languages too old for any textbook.
"The spiral shows up in every shrine," Rai muttered, scrolling through enhanced images. "But the Fire Shrine's version was cracked—shattered down the center."
Suimidhi traced the image with one finger. "They weren't just temples. They were interfaces."
Rai blinked. "Interfaces?"
"Not just built to honor something—but to connect something. Or someone."
Rai's hand paused over the edge of a page. "So these places... might be alive?"
"Not alive," she said softly. "Awake."
The group gathered again that weekend, rallying behind the next lead: an old aquifer facility buried beneath the coastal cliffs. It was Owen who noticed the water patterns mirrored the spiral designs they'd seen before.
No one called it a shrine at first.
But by the time they reached the crumbling facility, and the carved arches revealed ocean-worn stone covered in ancient glyphs, there was no doubt.
The Water Shrine.
Inside, everything was cold.
Not from temperature—but from weight. Like the room remembered sorrow.
The walls were covered in faded carvings of waves rising toward the sky, but never falling. Frozen in mid-surge.
At the center of the shrine, a shallow basin of seawater rippled under no wind.
Marin stood at its edge.
Something moved beneath the surface.
No one else saw it, but she did. A silhouette. A shadow of something enormous, watching her from below.
She didn't speak. She didn't cry.
She just knelt down, touched the water, and whispered, "What are we meant to protect?"
The ripple stopped.
The entire chamber exhaled.
And then, the glow.
Just faint. Just for a moment.
The spiral shimmered in the basin, then faded like it had never been there.
That night, Marin didn't speak.
She sat by herself near the cliffs, staring out into the ocean.
When sleep finally came, so did the dream.
A cold room.
Statues made of mist.
And a voice, slow and sad and full of grief:
"We must do it for him."
She woke with salt on her cheeks.
From tears, or ocean air—she couldn't say.
Back home, the group pored over digital scans and translation notes, trying to understand what the Water Shrine meant.
"It was never about the elements alone," Emma said, flipping through a page. "It's about memory. Preservation. These shrines are holding something back. Or... holding something in."
Rai traced the spiral again. "But what are they waiting for?"
Ronald leaned back, arms crossed. "More like—who."
No one had an answer.
But Rai couldn't shake the feeling in his chest. That tug behind the scar on his wrist.
With each shrine, something ancient stirred a little louder.
And deep down, he already knew:
It was calling him.