"Light in water, water in light. Solomon's key will open the way."

Alexei read this phrase several times. It seemed both simple and enigmatic. What was this "Solomon's key"? And what path was it supposed to open?

Below the inscription was a schematic drawing resembling a fragment of a map with a lake and marked points on its northern shore. One point was circled and marked with a cross. Alexei immediately recognized the outline—it was Lake Issyk-Kul.

He leaned back in his chair, clutching the medallion halves in his hand. The rain outside intensified, drumming on the roof with redoubled force. Fragments of thoughts raced through his mind. His grandfather had clearly found something important during that expedition in 1954. Something he had concealed all his life and decided to pass on only after his death.

Alexei reached for his phone. He needed to talk to someone about this find, someone who understood ancient artifacts and, more importantly, the geography of Issyk-Kul. A face flashed in his memory—olive skin, warm brown eyes with a characteristic almond shape, an unruly strand of chestnut hair constantly escaping from under a hair tie. He involuntarily recalled that expressive look she always gave when she disagreed with something.

Dinara Kambarova, his classmate and former lover. A talented ethnographer specializing in Central Asian cultures. Now she worked at the Historical Museum in Bishkek. And she was the granddaughter of that very boy Kambarov who was in the photograph with his grandfather.

This couldn't be a coincidence.

Alexei glanced at the clock—almost midnight. Too late for a call. But he couldn't wait until morning. He found Dinara's number in his contacts and pressed the call button. After several rings, a sleepy voice answered:

"Hello?"

"Dinara, it's me, Alexei. Sorry for the late call."

A pause.

"Alexei?" Her voice held surprise and wariness. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"Yes… no… I don't know," he answered honestly. "I found something in my grandfather's archives. Something related to the expedition to Issyk-Kul in 1954. And it seems your grandfather was involved as well."

Another pause, this time longer. When Dinara spoke again, her voice sounded much more composed:

"What exactly did you find?"

Alexei hesitated. Was it wise to tell her about the medallion over the phone? Something told him it wasn't the best idea.

"I'd rather show you in person. I can fly to Bishkek in a couple of days."

"Are you serious?" Her voice mixed disbelief and interest. "After three years of silence, you suddenly decide to fly to Kyrgyzstan because of some old expedition?"

"Dinara, this is important. I can feel it. My grandfather concealed something all these years, something connected to your family."

She was silent for so long that Alexei thought the connection had been lost. Finally, she said:

"All right. Come. I'll meet you at the airport. But, Alexei…"

"Yes?"

"Be careful. Don't tell anyone about your discovery. And… try not to attract attention."

It sounded strange, even alarming. But before he could ask what she meant, Dinara continued:

"And about what was between us…" her voice softened. "That's in the past. Right now, only this… discovery matters. Get to Bishkek, and we'll talk."

With those words, she hung up, leaving Alexei bewildered. He looked at the medallion lying on the desk. In the dim light of the desk lamp, the silver seemed almost alive, pulsating. As if the ancient artifact had awakened after a long sleep and was now waiting to see what would happen next.