Thomas raised his eyes to the starry sky. He knew he had to go far, to where even the most skilled of Genghis Khan's spies could not find him.

With a heavy sigh, the monk rose and headed toward the dark silhouettes of mountains reflected in the waters of Issyk-Kul. Ahead lay his final mission and a long, solitary journey.

He did not look back. The past remained behind, and the future was in God's hands and those to whom he had entrusted his knowledge.

Thomas's figure dissolved into the night darkness, as if it had never been there at all.

Dawn over Issyk-Kul was like the slow awakening of an ancient deity. The sun, rising from behind the mountain peaks, painted the waters of the lake in crimson and gold, casting long shadows from the coastal cliffs. In such moments, it was easy to believe the old legends of sunken cities and hidden treasures.

Alexei sat on a rock at the entrance to a small cave where he and Dinara had spent the night. Rustam's death still weighed heavily on his conscience. If he hadn't brought this cursed medallion, the old man would still be alive. Sitting in the cool morning breeze, Alexei turned the silver disc in his hands, studying the ancient symbols and trying to understand if it was truly worth the price they had already paid.

Dinara emerged from the cave, stepping quietly on the stony ground. Her eyes were red from crying, but her back remained straight, and her movements conveyed the determination of someone who would not allow grief to break them.

"How are you?" Alexei asked, rising to meet her.

"I'll survive," she answered briefly, looking at the lake. "Grandfather knew what he was getting into. He always said the secrets of Issyk-Kul demand sacrifices."

She turned away, brushing aside an unbidden tear.

"We need to go," she added in a firmer voice. "Karabaev's men won't stop searching."

Alexei nodded, tucking the medallion under his shirt. They descended from the hill and headed toward the nearest village, moving along goat paths to avoid encountering pursuers. By noon, they reached a small settlement where Dinara, using the local language, managed to buy some food and water, and arrange for a shepherd to drive them to Cholpon-Ata in his old truck.

"Do you think this is safe?" Alexei asked as they bounced along the rough road in the open truck bed filled with hay. "Karabaev is surely searching for us all along the shore."

"That's the point," Dinara replied, covering her face with a scarf against the dust. "He won't expect us to return to a major tourist center. Besides, Uncle Ermek has a house on the outskirts. We can rest and decide what to do next."

Alexei nodded, though a strange feeling of unease wouldn't leave him. The loss of Rustam's book was a serious blow—it contained important information about the treasure's location and the "Key of Solomon." Now they were left with only the medallion and fragments of knowledge that Dinara had received from her grandfather.

By evening, they reached the outskirts of Cholpon-Ata. The shepherd dropped them at a crossroads and, after receiving payment, drove off, raising a cloud of dust. Dinara led Alexei along a narrow path that disappeared into a thicket of poplars and willows.

"Uncle's house is half a kilometer from here," she explained. "Away from the main development, right by the lake."

They walked in silence, watchfully looking around. Twilight descended on the land, painting everything in silvery-blue tones. The air was filled with the scents of water, sun-warmed stones, and flowering herbs.