The Whisper of Submerged Sanctuaries. Igor Patanin

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:

      «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.

      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.

      Chapter 2: Reunion

      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