Alexei carefully folded the medallion halves together. They joined with a barely audible click. He put the chain around his neck and hid the medallion under his shirt. The cold metal quickly warmed from his body heat.

"What did you find, Grandfather?" he whispered, looking at the portrait. "And why did you hide it for so long?"

The rain outside had turned into a downpour. Drops pounded against the glass with such force that it seemed as if someone was persistently asking to come in. Alexei approached the window and drew the curtains. A strange feeling of unease wouldn't leave him. It was as if he had taken the first step on a path leading into the unknown, and now he couldn't turn back.

He took his phone and booked a flight to Bishkek for the day after tomorrow. Then he began gathering necessary documents and things for the trip. His gaze fell on a stack of recently received bills—for utilities, taxes, apartment mortgage. Life in St. Petersburg had never been cheap, and the salary of a research fellow at the Archaeological Institute was not the highest.

A cynical thought flashed: perhaps the medallion really did lead to some treasure? Money wouldn't hurt right now.

But immediately he felt ashamed of this thought. His grandfather had dedicated his life to science, not treasure hunting. And if he had preserved this medallion and passed it to his grandson, there must have been some deeper meaning.

Alexei resolutely closed his suitcase. Whatever awaited him in Kyrgyzstan, he had to get to the truth. He owed it to his grandfather. And, perhaps, to himself.

Outside the window, the moon momentarily appeared among the night clouds, casting a silvery light on the desk where the medallion had recently lain. In this light, outlines resembling the contours of a lake on an ancient map briefly emerged. And then the moon disappeared again, and the room plunged into semi-darkness.

The journey was beginning.

Bishkek greeted Alexei with heat and bright sunshine. After the damp St. Petersburg summer, it was actually pleasant. He emerged from the Manas Airport terminal, squinting in the bright light and wiping sweat from his forehead. People bustled around him, taxi drivers shouted their offers, and somewhere nearby two men argued in raised voices.

Alexei looked around for Dinara. They hadn't seen each other for three years—since their relationship had ended in a painful breakup. Back then, he had chosen a career in St. Petersburg, while she had opted to return to her homeland.

He spotted Dinara immediately, though she stood in the shade of a large tree. The same long dark hair with copper highlights in the sun, gathered in a casual ponytail, the same expressive almond-shaped eyes the color of dark amber, framed by thick eyelashes. The elegant line of her neck and stubborn chin gave her face both softness and determination. Only now she looked more composed, more… professional. She wore light-colored trousers, a loose sand-colored blouse, and a light scarf with turquoise patterns covering her shoulders.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, it seemed to Alexei that the past three years had vanished like smoke. But when he came closer, he saw restraint in her eyes.

"Hello, Alexei," she said in Russian. Her accent, barely noticeable during their student years, had now become slightly more pronounced. "How was your flight?"

"Hi, Dinara." He smiled, not knowing how to behave. Hug her? Shake her hand? In the end, he simply nodded. "The flight was fine, thank you. Just delayed a couple of hours in Almaty."