The first rays of dawn crept through the foggy streets of Varanasi as Aarav and Meera sat in a dimly lit café near Assi Ghat. The strong aroma of chai mixed with the scent of incense from nearby temples, but neither of them was paying attention to the morning's beauty. Their minds were tangled in the old man's warning. The ancient manuscript lay between them on the wooden table, its delicate pages whispering secrets only half-understood.

Aarav traced a finger along a faded line of script. "This part mentions the 'Temple of the Wind' somewhere in the Himalayas. If the missing pages exist, that could be where they are."