Chapter 137 The Archive Breathes

• The mountains did not welcome them.
• They loomed, silent, immovable, like ancient watchers that had long since stopped caring who passed beneath them.
• By the second day of travel, the air had thinned enough to press against the lungs, each breath sharper than the last. Even the wind had changed. It no longer howled through the passes but moved in slow, measured currents, brushing against stone as though careful not to disturb something sleeping beneath it.