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I methodically checked my gear in the preparation area. Strong lines woven from mountain fibers, carved grips for difficult rock faces, sturdy hide straps and bindings.

Healing pastes, wound-binding fibers, pain-dulling powders. Blade, striker, purification crystals. A ritual of order, preparation for the unknown.

Jen worked nearby, packing her own bag. Efficient, but lacking ingrained patterns. More focus on her scavenged recording tech than on survival gear. Priorities needing adjustment.

"The thermal wraps," I said, indicating the stack. "Take two. High pass nights drop below freezing."

She nodded, adding them without argument. Practical enough to accept guidance. Promising.

"Heavier than expected," she commented.

"Density traps heat. Treated with resins. Two allows survival in sudden ice storms."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Ice storms? This season?"

"Mountains create their own weather. Preparation is wisdom." Respect flickered in her features. She rearranged her pack, removing less essential items for the second wrap. Good adaptation.

The door opened. Elder Shyla entered, primary contact for the Aerie Kin messenger, Kozlan. She carried a small, intricately carved wooden box. Her expression was solemn.

"The other Elders asked me to share what little we know of the Echoing Caves," she said. "What Kozlan has told us."

I paused, giving full attention, Jen moving to my side.

"His information was fragmented," Elder Shyla continued, opening the box. Inside, a small, rough-hewn crystal emitted a faint blue glow.

"Pain clouded his mind. But he spoke of the Shardwings' distress, harmony disrupted by something awakening in the 'Mountain's Throat'—what our oldest texts call the Echoing Caves."

"The failed stabilization site," I confirmed, recalling Rylis's warning in Council. Ancestral memory stirred—technology seeking control, bringing destruction.

"Yes." Elder Shyla lifted the crystal. "A shard from their sacred resonance crystals. Kozlan carried it as proof. The Aerie Kin use these to communicate with Shardwings, maintain balance." The shard seemed more alive than ruin-crystals.

"May I?" Jen stepped forward.

Shyla hesitated, then placed it in Jen's palm. The crystal's glow intensified slightly; Jen's eyes widened, breathing changed subtly.

"It resonates at a specific frequency," she murmured. "Clean. Structured. Similar to Shardwing calls, but more... controlled."

Elder Shyla watched sharply. "You sense this? Without tools?"

"My markings respond," Jen explained, returning the crystal.

Revelation crossed the elder’s face, then concern. "Unexpected. Our sensitives require years of training for such resonance." She addressed Jen.

"Kozlan noticed your markings. Even as exhausted and injured as he was. They troubled him—he called you 'the marked outsider.' Too weak to explain further."

If Kozlan recognized her markings... was there some connection we didn't understand? Unsettling.

"What else about the caves?" I asked, focusing on practical dangers.

Shyla grew grave. "The old texts call it where the mountain's true voice was shattered." She closed the box.

"Beware the dissonant whispers... they can trap the unwary mind." Cryptic warnings, likely holding truth. If the caves affected minds—perhaps via that resonance Jen detected—we needed caution.

"We will be cautious, Elder," I assured her.

She nodded, retrieving a small pouch. "Crushed kirna leaves. Help clear the mind from disharmonious energies. Aerie Kin use them. Kozlan insisted we give you his."

I accepted the pouch reverently. If Kozlan thought to provide this, the danger was real. Sharp, clean scent.

"How are they used?" Jen asked.

"Brewed in hot water for tea to sharpen focus," Shyla explained. "Or crushed and inhaled for immediate, brief clarity."

Jen nodded, committing it to memory.

"One more thing," Shyla added. "Kozlan said follow the 'shell-stone path' on the western ridge. Their hidden route, marked with fossils embedded in stone. Only those who know would find it."

Valuable information. "Spiral shells, ancient water creatures. Small, often partially embedded. They appear regularly."

She paused at the door. "The human's resonance... is unexpected. But perhaps not unwelcome. The Quiet Ones might find it significant." She departed, leaving us with the heaviness of the mission.

I resumed packing, aware of Jen, her focus on her collection of salvaged wires and recording devices. Would they be an asset or liability facing these "dissonant whispers"?

My thoughts circled back to Rylis's warning in the Council Hall. Forbidden ground. The weight of our history, the cultural trauma of technology turned destructive, settled heavily. The tip of my tail tapped a slow, unconscious rhythm against my thigh as I considered the ancient failures.

My fear wasn't the mountain itself, but repeating our ancestors' arrogance, unleashing forces we couldn't control, shattering minds again. Jen, with her focus on patterns and technology, walked dangerously close to that edge.

"You've spent a lot of time in the mountains," Jen observed, breaking the silence as she secured her pack.

"Yes. It is where I feel most aligned with Arenix," I admitted. "The settlements are necessary, but the true voice speaks clearest in wilderness."

She tilted her head. "That's why you're skeptical of my sound analysis. You believe patterns should be felt, not measured."

Her perception surprised me. "Not entirely. Measurement has its place. But divorced from experience, from context... it risks misinterpretation."

"And you think I'm misinterpreting?"

I chose honesty. "Your perception is unique. Valid. But Arenix has rhythms recordings can't capture alone. Sensed through time, seasons, observation."

She nodded thoughtfully. "That's fair. But my sensory processing isn't just technology, Iros. It's integrated. Personal. The markings don't just record—they feel patterns."

Despite my caution, this intrigued me. "These patterns you visualize—consistent? Reproducible?"

"Yes," she said with certainty. "Same call, same visual. Different calls, different patterns. Disruptions follow specific interference patterns overlaying base structures."

Specificity suggested more than random interpretation.

We worked silently. My mind mapped the route, considered hazards.

"The resonance crystal," Jen said. "Operates on a frequency similar to Shardwing calls, but refined. If Aerie Kin use these to communicate..."

"You believe your recordings contain elements of this resonance," I finished her thought. "And distortions represent interference from the failing ancient technology."

"Yes." Surprise flickered across her features. "Exactly. If something at the Echoing Caves generates disruptive energy patterns interfering with the natural resonance..."

"It would explain both their erratic behavior and the Aerie Kin's crisis," I conceded. Her theory had merit, framework aside.

"We should bring my recording equipment," she said, indicating a small, dented device.

"Pack it," I agreed. "But survival gear takes priority. Technology won't matter if we don't reach them alive."

She nodded, making space while keeping essential supplies. A working compromise.

"Have you been this far west before?" she asked.

"Not to Aerie territories. Patrolled borderlands, outer ridges. High passes are considered forbidden."

"Because of the failed Great Division?"

"That, and respect for their isolation. They chose separation. We honored it."

"Yet they've reached out now."

"Which speaks to the severity of their crisis," I said gravely. "Whatever awaits, it overcame deep cultural divides."

Concern shadowed her face, quickly replaced by determination. "Then we'd better not fail them."

As we finished, I caught her studying me. Assessing me, as I assessed her. Different approaches, now bound to a shared task.

I secured my pack. "We leave at first light. Western pass is best approached then."

"I'll be ready," she responded simply.