A blast of icy wind swept across the foothills. The water in the newly flooded cave bubbled, as if something were trying to break free from beneath the stone slabs, but then settled, concealing its secret for the time being.
The era of the Nestorian treasures was just beginning.
Chapter 1: The Discovery (Present Day)
Rain drummed against the roof of the old wooden house, creating a cozy background noise that muffled all sounds from the street. Alexei Sorin stood at the mansard window, gazing out at the wet St. Petersburg rooftops. His athletic yet not overly muscular build was discernible beneath his loose sweater, and his facial features—with well-defined cheekbones and attentive brown eyes—revealed the same academic focus that had characterized his grandfather. In his hand, he clutched a cup of cold coffee, which he had yet to taste. For the past three days, he had been sorting through the archive of his grandfather, Professor Igor Nikolaevich Sorin, a renowned historian and Orientalist who had passed away a month ago at the age of ninety-seven.
Sorin senior had been a legend in academic circles. A specialist in ancient Central Asian civilizations, author of dozens of monographs and hundreds of articles, a man who had dedicated his life to uncovering the secrets of the Silk Road. For Alexei, however, he had simply been Grandfather—somewhat eccentric, eternally immersed in his manuscripts, but at the same time incredibly kind and always ready to share another captivating story about times long past.
His unexpected death in his sleep had made Alexei his sole heir. Alexei's parents had died in a car accident when he was twelve, and it was his grandfather who had taken him in, raised him, and set him on his path in life. Now, at thirty-two, Alexei was a successful archaeologist specializing in computer reconstruction of ancient artifacts. "A technician in a humanities field"—that's how he jokingly described himself.
With a sigh, Alexei turned away from the window and surveyed the mansard. Everywhere stood stacks of books, folders with papers, boxes filled with photographs and slides. His grandfather had been one of those scholars who didn't trust digital archives and preferred to store his materials in the old-fashioned way—on paper.
"I've almost finished with this box, Grandfather," Alexei muttered, addressing the large portrait of the professor hanging above the desk. "But there are at least ten more to go. You could have been more organized with your notes."
It seemed to him that the wrinkles around his grandfather's eyes in the portrait formed into a mischievous smile. Alexei smiled back and returned to the desk, where an open cardboard box filled with folders lay.
The next folder was simply labeled: "Expedition 1953-1955. Personal." It was strange that his grandfather had marked it as personal. Usually, he meticulously cataloged all his expedition materials by theme. Alexei untied the faded ribbons and opened the folder.
Inside were just a few documents: yellowed diary pages with faded ink, several black-and-white photographs, and a small sealed envelope made of thick paper. Alexei carefully removed the diary and began to read.
"May 12, 1954. Lake Issyk-Kul. Something unusual happened today. While exploring caves on the northern shore, Kambarov found a strange medallion. Judging by its style, it's Nestorian, presumably from the 12th-13th centuries. Symbols are engraved on the reverse side, which I cannot yet identify. The expedition leader, Comrade Voronov, insists on immediately transferring the find to central administration, but something makes me hesitate. Perhaps it's young Kambarov's intuition. He claims the medallion 'wants to stay' with me. The boy is only 12 years old, but his perceptiveness sometimes astounds me…"