Alexei turned the page.

"May 16, 1954. Voronov received orders from Moscow to wrap up work in the caves and relocate to the Cholpon-Ata area. The official reason is to concentrate efforts on more promising sites. But rumors are circulating that a KGB commission is coming to our camp. It might be about the deserter whom local shepherds discovered not far from our camp. Or perhaps it's something else. In any case, I've made my decision. The medallion will stay with me until I solve its mystery. Kambarov has promised to help and to introduce me to his grandfather, who, according to him, knows ancient legends about the treasures of Issyk-Kul…"

The entries ended abruptly. The following pages had been torn out. Alexei frowned. It was unlike his grandfather to destroy his notes. He should have valued every line, especially regarding his expeditions.

Alexei set the diary aside and picked up the photographs. The first showed the expedition camp—tents on the lakeshore, people in field uniforms. In the second, a group of men in formal suits stood near some mountain slope. And finally, in the third—a young version of his grandfather next to a Kyrgyz teenage boy, both smiling, with the entrance to a cave in the background.

Intrigued, Alexei picked up the sealed envelope. It was heavier than it first appeared. Something shifted inside. There were no inscriptions on the envelope, only a small red wax seal with an imprint resembling a stylized cross.

Alexei carefully opened the envelope, trying not to damage the seal. Inside was a folded sheet of paper and something wrapped in a piece of dark fabric. Unfolding the paper, he discovered a short note written in his grandfather's firm handwriting:

"Alexei, if you are reading this, it means I am no longer with you. Forgive my secretiveness, but some secrets are too dangerous to entrust to paper. This medallion is the key to one such secret. I have kept it for more than sixty years but never dared to use it. Now it is your inheritance and your choice. There is a hidden mechanism in the medallion. If you decide to activate it, be prepared for the consequences. Some doors are better left closed. With love, your grandfather."

With trembling hands, Alexei unwrapped the fabric. On his palm lay a silver medallion the size of a large coin. Despite its age, the metal had not tarnished and shone as if new. On the front was an equilateral cross with widening ends, framed by an intricate ornament. On the reverse side were strange symbols, resembling both Syriac script and some astronomical signs.

Alexei's heart beat faster. He held the medallion closer to the light of the desk lamp, examining every detail. A thin line ran around the edge—an almost imperceptible seam. It seemed the medallion could indeed be opened. But how? His grandfather had mentioned a hidden mechanism.

Alexei carefully began pressing on various elements of the ornament. Nothing happened. Then he tried turning the edges of the medallion in opposite directions—to no avail. Perhaps press the center of the cross? Nothing again.

He had almost given up when he noticed that one of the symbols on the reverse side looked slightly more convex than the others. Alexei carefully pressed it with his thumb. A barely audible click sounded, and the medallion split into two halves.

Inside was a tiny piece of parchment, folded several times. Alexei carefully unfolded it with his not-too-delicate fingers, afraid of tearing the fragile material. The parchment displayed the same strange symbols as on the reverse side of the medallion, as well as a short inscription in Latin: