The air was thick with the smell of damp soil plus crumbling rock. Spotted sunlight mixed with stubborn creepers covered Atheria’s remains - just like the old writings said: a lost frame of delicate craft, now home to quiet mold and dim corners. Atlas tugged at the strap of his beat-up leather bag, his pointed silver ears twitching uneasily. "Somethin’ about this spot creeps me out, Zenith - like everything's watchin’." Zenith snorted, his coat, a striking silver tanpoint bay, shimmering as he stepped over a broken archway. “It feels dead, you drama queen. Just because the grass is taller than you doesn’t make it sentient.” “I’m nearly seventeen hands!” Atlas grumbled, his silver blue buckskin pearl champagne coat catching the muted light. “And I think you’re missing the point. We’re searching for a mythical creature in a mythical ruin. Maybe a little reverence is warranted?” Atlas usually played it safe, speaking slow and steady; Zenith? Always rushing ahead without thinking twice. These two academics didn’t seem like a match - yet something kept them close, maybe shared wonder or just putting up with one another’s quirks. “Reverence is for when we find the thing,” Zenith countered, pushing deeper into the central courtyard. “Right now, I’m just trying to avoid stepping on a viper.” After that, it got real quiet. The constant hum of cicadas died down, the sound of moving leaves stopped, while inside Zenith’s ribs, even breathing felt frozen. In the middle of the broken yard, under a huge ancient redwood’s shade, was the Kirin. It took her breath away. Way taller than any horse she’d come across, it had a strong, horse-like build but moved with a strange, light elegance. The fur on its body looked just like untouched snow, while the mane and tail waved softly, almost glowing like threads pulled from moonbeams. Still, what really held her attention were the horns - spreading out far, shiny and twisted, made of something resembling old black timber, so sleek it mirrored the patchy daylight like volcanic glass. The beast dipped its grand head, soft eyes like golden honey locking onto Zenith without delay or shock. Not a flinch, not a trace of dread, no sudden pull back - just calm focus. Instead of seeing a trespasser, it looked at him like someone finally arriving after years away. Zenith, who’d normally jump to an answer or sketch out steps fast, just stood there frozen. “Huh… guess that counts,” Atlas murmured, sarcasm fading into quiet surprise. The Kirin moved ahead slowly, its feet nudging the thick moss without a sound. Then it paused several paces away from Zenith. It stayed quiet, but the air began humming. No actual words - just hushed murmurs coming from inside Zenith's head. Quiet they were, hollow too, carrying deep sorrow. “The balance is broken.” “The silence is too loud.” “We need the key.” Zenith flinched, tossing his head just a bit. Voices cut through - sharp, too loud - with weight from some old grief buried long ago. His eyes darted to Atlas, scanning every corner like something moved there; yet he caught only wind rustling leaves or distant footfalls on stone. "You catch that sound?" Zenith said, keeping it quiet. Atlas looked at him, confused. “Hear what? The wind? Or are you finally admitting this place is haunted?” "The voices," Zenith said, turning again toward the Kirin. It hadn’t moved at all - its golden gaze fixed on him, showing where the mind-speech came from. “He carries the shard.” “The lineage is close.” Zenith’s spine tingled out of nowhere. Not some distant, hostile legend like they’d expected - this one acted different. The Kirin spoke straight to them, its voice trembling, begging almost. Zenith, stubborn and quick to act, chose right away. Despite the risk, despite seeing Atlas’s shock, despite knowing this beast could wipe him out - still he moved. Though danger loomed, though his friend froze in fear, though common sense screamed no - he charged ahead anyway. He moved slowly closer to the creature. "Can you hear me?" he wondered, sending the idea out as clearly as possible. The Kirin lowered its head once more, while its carved horns grazed the highest part of a climbing plant. “You hear the echo. Few can.” “Which key? What kind of balance?” Zenith pushed, tone tight from stress. Puzzles annoyed him - answers were what he wanted, fast. Atlas finally found his voice, a high-pitched squeak of panic. “Zenith, stop! We don’t know what it wants! It’s a literal creature of legend!” "It believes in me, Atlas," Zenith mumbled, gaze stuck on the Kiran. "Sense it deep down." The Kirin felt kind in a big way, but also carried quiet worry. Still, Zenith stretched forward with one careful hoof, holding it out bit by bit. The huge animal copied the move, its nose - smooth like velvet - pressed gentle on Zenith’s foot. The moment hit like lightning. Not only skin meeting - waves of memory, raw feeling, explosive force poured through him. He stumbled away, hand gripping his heart. The whispers intensified, overwhelming the courtyard: “Atheria falls. The veil thins. The world forgets us.” Zenith sucked in air, each breath loud and shaky. "Damn," he muttered under his voice. "Just what was that vision?" The Kiran stepped back a little, eyes showing quiet sadness. No words were needed - Zenith caught the urgent thought slipping into his head. Give a hand to fix the barriers across realms. Atlas rushed to Zenith’s side, concern replacing his panic. “Zenith, what happened? You look like you’ve been struck by lightning!” “It… it showed me the ruins before they fell,” Zenith managed, staring blankly at a collapsed fountain. “It showed me the purpose of this place—keeping things out. And the walls are thinning.” He looked back at the Kirin. “You need me to find something, don’t you?” The Kirin dipped its strong head, wood-like horns catching light. Then it pivoted, gaze pointing toward a broken arch in the east - overgrown, ignored - a thing Atlas once wrote off as just rubble. “The heart of the city sleeps there. We cannot pass.” Zenith got it. Kirin thrived where things stayed clean and balanced - so when pollution from the weakening veil crept in, they could freeze up, maybe just shut out the mess altogether. Zenith shrugged, excitement about the hunt drowning out doubt. Since you believe in me, I'll show you're correct Atlas threw his forehooves up in exasperation. “Of course, you’re jumping into a mythological rescue mission seconds after meeting the deity! Why consult the scrolls or, you know, a sane adult?” Zenith shot him a glare. “Because this isn’t about research anymore, Atlas. This is about saving the world, or whatever this magnificent creature is worried about.” He squared his shoulders, that inherent, headstrong drive overriding caution. “Come on, easy-going. We’re going exploring.” He moved off toward the broken east arch, while the Kirin kept staring - steady, full of faith. Behind him, the murmurs trailed along, softening a bit as distance grew, but still loud inside his head. “Hurry. The silence will break soon.” Zenith clenched his jaw, diving under the dark curve of the stone gate - Atlas trudging after, each step slow and grumbling. His blood buzzed fast, sharp. Right then, clear as daylight, he got it - he wasn’t guessing anymore; this mess made sense. And knowing some old legend outta myth had trusted him without thinking? That fire lit something wild in his chest. Something hidden deep inside the broken remains - Zenith meant to track it down quick. A Kirin’s fate hung on his move.