They found Meera in one of the lower terraces where broken columns framed a view of distant stone and drifting light. She stood near the edge, fingers resting against the cool surface, eyes unfocused as though she were listening to something beyond sound.
She did not turn when Ira approached.
"I didn't hear you," Meera said softly.
Ira stopped a few steps away. "What were you hearing?"
Meera hesitated. "I'm not sure. It's like… the place was moving, but not around me. Through me."
Ira felt something stir in her chest, faint and cautious.
She moved closer, careful not to startle her. "Do you feel different?"
Meera nodded slowly. "Not stronger. Just… placed. Like I'm standing in a current instead of being swept by it."
Devansh watched them from a short distance away, attention tuned not to their words, but to the subtle shift in the city's deeper layers. Something in Vayukshi was responding to Meera in a way it never had before.
Meera finally turned.
Her eyes widened slightly when she saw Ira.
"When you walked up," she said, "it got louder."
"What did?"
"The feeling," Meera replied. "The way the place moves."
Ira stilled.
She extended her awareness gently, not reaching into Meera, but allowing herself to register the space around her.
She felt it immediately.
A faint convergence in the city's deeper rhythm. A subtle emphasis where Meera stood, as though the stone itself were tracking her presence.
"It's not just me anymore," Ira murmured.
Devansh approached slowly. "The city has begun mapping additional anchors."
Meera's fingers curled against the stone. "That sounds bad."
"It's unfamiliar," he replied. "Which often becomes dangerous."
Ira met his gaze. "Or transformative."
Meera looked between them. "Am I in danger?"
Ira did not answer quickly.
"Something in this place is learning how to respond differently," she said finally. "And learning always carries risk."
Meera exhaled slowly. "I didn't come here to become something."
Ira felt the quiet ache of that truth.
"Neither did I," she said.
The windless air moved faintly across the terrace. The city's hum altered, then steadied again, as though acknowledging the presence of both women.
Meera's shoulders eased a fraction.
"When I touched the stone earlier," she said, "it felt like something answered back."
Ira's breath caught.
"Not with words," Meera continued. "With… adjustment. Like when you step into water and it shifts around you."
Devansh's gaze narrowed. "Show me."
Meera hesitated, then placed her palm flat against the column beside her.
The reaction was subtle.
The stone did not glow.
It did not ripple.
But Ira felt it clearly.
A faint reorientation in the city's deeper structure, as though a small parameter had been added to an equation that had not expected it.
Meera withdrew her hand.
Her breath trembled. "Did you feel that?"
"Yes," Ira said quietly.
The city had not merely admitted Meera.
It had registered her.
And the implications of that settled heavily between them.