The Whisper of Submerged Sanctuaries. Igor Patanin

and peered through the small window.

      The cell was empty. The ropes that had bound the prisoner lay on the earthen floor, but the monk himself was nowhere to be seen.

      With a cry of alarm, the guard flung open the door. He searched every corner of the cramped dungeon but found no trace of the prisoner. No tunnel, no broken lock, no other signs of escape. Thomas had disappeared as if dissolved into thin air.

      The news quickly reached Jebe. The noyon personally searched the dungeon, then the entire monastery. He ordered a search for the fugitive on the lakeshore, in the mountains, and questioned all the local inhabitants.

      But Thomas was never found.

      Jebe, enraged by the failure, ordered the monastery burned to the ground. Flames consumed the ancient walls, turning the centuries-old abode into smoking ruins.

      The shaman, observing the fire, approached the noyon and quietly said:

      «This man was no ordinary monk. There was a power in him that we do not understand.»

      Jebe stared grimly at the fire.

      «We will search for the stone without him,» he said resolutely. «Send divers into the lake. Check every cave in the surrounding mountains. The stone must be somewhere around here.»

      The shaman shook his head:

      «Now that the monk has disappeared, I feel that the stone’s power has become more hidden, more distant. As if he has strengthened the protection of his secret.»

      «The prophecy states that the stone of power will one day return to the world,» Jebe said thoughtfully. «Perhaps not in our time. But someday.»

      Wind from the lake scattered the ashes of the burned monastery high into the mountains. Gray flakes swirled in the air, like the last farewell of the ancient sanctuary.

      And somewhere far from these places, young David continued his journey, carrying within him knowledge that would one day, centuries later, lead other seekers to the hidden sanctuary.

      It was deep night. Lake Issyk-Kul was calm and dark, only a silver path of moonlight shimmered on its surface. On the shore, among the stones, sat a solitary figure. His face was hidden by a hood, but in the moonlight, one could discern ascetic features and attentive eyes.

      Thomas gazed at the waters of the lake, knowing that he would never again see either David or the other brothers and sisters of his community. Now his path lay in another direction.

      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.

      Chapter 7: Betrayal

      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.

      Ermek’s house turned out to be a small single-story structure with a spacious veranda facing the lake. Old apple and cherry trees grew around it, and a small pier with a boat tied to it stood at the water’s edge.

      «Strange,» Dinara frowned, approaching the house. «No lights, though Uncle’s car is in the yard.»

      Alexei tensed. Something wasn’t right. It was too quiet; even the birds weren’t singing in the garden.

      «Wait,» he held Dinara back by the arm when she was about to step onto the veranda. «Let’s look around first.»

      They circled the house, peering through windows. Inside, it was dark and seemingly empty. But when they approached the back door leading to the kitchen, they heard muffled voices.

      «That’s Uncle,» Dinara whispered, listening. «But who is he talking to?»

      They carefully crept up to the window and peered inside. In the kitchen’s half-darkness, illuminated only by the dim light of a table lamp, Ermek sat at the table. Opposite him was a man in a dark jacket, whose face they couldn’t make out.

      «I did everything I could,» Ermek’s voice reached them. «I brought them to Rustam, as you asked.»

      «But they escaped,» his companion replied coldly. «And the old man died without revealing all the details to us.»

      «That’s not my fault!» Desperation sounded in Ermek’s voice. «I didn’t know they would run away! I thought you just wanted to talk to them, study the medallion…»

      «Don’t lie to me, Ermek,» his companion cut him off. «You knew perfectly well what was happening. You knew that Karabaev would stop at nothing to get the „Key of Solomon.“»

      Dinara