I found exploring the jungle very challenging. For a man who has spent his life inside libraries researching, I am getting too old for exploration. I should have listened to my wife; she knows best. Or perhaps I should have listened to my students. They insisted on coming with me, and I would have loved for them to come. However, the professor would not like his students to witness the real discovery of an ancient civilization, older than anything we have ever known.
The lack of funding for this expedition made it impossible for them to attend. I think the Lord did not want unnecessary people on this expedition, or perhaps He did not trust my research to be accurate. Yet He knows that if any lord gets his hands on the artifact, it will change the balance of power between the great houses. But that is not my concern.
What I need to do is find the path. My research determined that this civilization needed a source of water, which should make the search easier. However, we are near the equator, so the source of water is unlikely to be a river. Rain covers this region, so the only other option is to look for an older source.
If I place myself in the shoes of the people who built this civilization, I must ask a simple question: why settle here at all? A civilization older than any known kingdom would not survive by depending only on seasonal rain. They would need a reliable source of fresh water. If there is no river, then perhaps there was once a lake, a spring, or an underground aquifer.
There is mention in ancient records of a civilization that was in this region, though the records are frustratingly incomplete. One passage speaks of a "city beneath the green sea" and another of "stone towers raised around the mouth of the earth." At first I believed these were myths, but now I suspect they describe natural springs. If underground water reached the surface here in ancient times, the settlement would likely have been built nearby.
Therefore, my search should not follow the rivers but the land itself. I must look for unusual rock formations, sinkholes, caves, and valleys where water might once have emerged. Even if the springs dried up centuries ago, traces of human activity should remain. Roads, terraces, carved stones, or pottery fragments would reveal where people gathered.
The jungle hides much, but it cannot hide everything. Ancient builders preferred high ground safe from floods, yet close enough to water for daily life. If I can identify elevated ridges overlooking old spring sites, I may narrow the search considerably. The records also mention stars used for navigation. If I compare those descriptions with the surrounding mountains, I may be able to determine the direction of the city from the old ceremonial sites described in the texts.
My next step is clear. I will search for evidence of ancient water sources rather than present ones. Water gave life to the civilization, and even if the people vanished, the landscape will remember where they lived. If my research is correct, the ruins are not far away. They are waiting somewhere beneath the jungle canopy, hidden not by distance but by time.
Still, I must consider other possibilities. A good researcher does not become so attached to one theory that he ignores all others. If the evidence of ancient springs leads nowhere, I have two additional paths to investigate.
The first comes from an encounter many years ago with a remote community near Baka Lake. During my visit, several elders spoke of a great tree standing in the middle of the lake. They described it not as an ordinary tree but as something ancient and sacred, so large that it could be seen from great distances. At the time I dismissed the story as local folklore, yet the tale has remained with me. Such legends often preserve fragments of historical truth long after the facts themselves have been forgotten.
Years later, with access to Air Force reconnaissance resources, we attempted to locate this tree from the air. We surveyed the lake repeatedly and examined aerial photographs, but we found nothing that matched the descriptions. Either the tree no longer exists, or we were searching for the wrong thing entirely. It is possible that the "tree" was never a tree at all.
When I thought about it more carefully, I realized that angels fly, and in ancient times their language was not fully understood by later generations. Perhaps the records meant something else entirely. With that possibility in mind, I asked the Air Force to search for anything marked by blue and green surrounding a central feature. After reviewing their reports, they identified a location far to the south that matches the description surprisingly well.
The site may represent the true meaning behind the old accounts. If so, our route is already planned. We will travel by boat along the Akan River until we reach the great waterfall. From there, we will continue on foot, heading east through the jungle until we reach the location identified by the survey.
I have assembled a crew of twenty people for the expedition, along with an additional adventurer named Jim. The Lord personally requested that he join us. This region is known to be full of dangerous creatures and monsters, and having someone with his experience will undoubtedly prove useful. While I would prefer a quieter scholarly journey, experience has taught me that ancient ruins rarely remain unguarded by nature—or by things far stranger.
This possibility is one of the reasons I approached the Lord for funding. The newly established branch possesses resources and contacts unavailable to ordinary scholars. More importantly, they helped establish the branch in the first place and maintain relationships that others do not. Through them, the Lord can call upon favors and secure assistance that rival houses cannot easily obtain. If further aerial surveys, specialized equipment, or transportation become necessary, they may be able to provide what is needed.
The second possibility is less defined but no less important. If neither the springs nor the stories of Baka Lake reveal the truth, then I must widen the search and follow every surviving fragment of evidence. Ancient trade routes, oral histories, forgotten maps, and scattered artifacts may each hold a piece of the puzzle. Civilizations do not simply vanish without leaving traces behind. Somewhere there must be signs of where these people traveled, where they gathered, and where they built their monuments.
For now, however, all theories lead to the same conclusion. We need a team on the ground. No amount of study from a library, no aerial photograph, and no political favor can replace careful observation in the field. The jungle guards its secrets closely, but secrets leave marks. A broken stone, an unnatural hill, a carved symbol hidden beneath roots—any one of these could reveal what centuries of searching have failed to uncover.
If my research is correct, then we stand closer to the truth than anyone realizes. The civilization is out there, concealed beneath layers of earth, vegetation, and forgotten history. All that remains is to find the path that leads to it.
The expedition began three days later.
The journey along the Akan River was peaceful at first. Dense walls of jungle stretched endlessly along both banks, and the constant chorus of insects and distant animals followed us day and night. Several members of the crew treated the voyage like an adventure. They laughed, told stories, and speculated about the treasures hidden within the ruins.
Jim quickly became the center of attention.
He was charming, confident, and seemed incapable of resisting the opportunity to flirt with every woman on the expedition. Several female crew members found him amusing, while others found him insufferable. Either way, he rarely lacked company around the evening campfires.
At the time, I considered it harmless.
I later learned that one of those women was not what she appeared to be.
Our first disaster came before we even reached the waterfall.
During the night, an explosion tore through one of the supply boats. Flames spread rapidly across the river, and panic erupted among the crew. We managed to save most of the people aboard, but the vessel itself was destroyed along with a significant portion of our supplies.
The incident immediately sparked accusations.
Some believed it had been an accident. Others insisted sabotage was involved. Arguments broke out among the crew, and several members demanded that we abandon the expedition and return home before things became worse.
I refused.
We had already come too far.
Despite the protests, we continued toward the waterfall.
The decision nearly ended the expedition.
Shortly after leaving the river and continuing on foot, we were attacked by villagers hidden within the jungle. They emerged without warning, armed with spears, bows, and crude blades. The battle was brief and chaotic.
Several members of the expedition were killed.
Others were captured and dragged away into the jungle.
What disturbed us most was that many of the attackers were women.
The survivors gathered that evening to decide what to do next. Fear and anger dominated the discussion. Several crew members demanded that we abandon the expedition and rescue the captives immediately.
I was still considering our options when Elliot spoke.
He argued that the attack had been a trap designed to force us away from our objective. According to him, if we turned back now, everything we had sacrificed would be wasted. He insisted that we continue toward the ruins and send knights later to recover the prisoners.
The crew reacted poorly.
Many considered his suggestion heartless.
The argument lasted for hours before exhaustion finally ended it.
That night, events took another unexpected turn.
A group of masked raiders infiltrated our camp. Jim and Elliot were captured, bound with ropes, and dragged into the jungle before anyone realized what had happened.
The raiders intended to exchange them for the villagers we had captured during the earlier battle.
They never got the chance.
Before negotiations could begin, the village itself launched an attack against the raiders. Arrows flew from the darkness. Warriors charged from every direction. The jungle erupted into violence.
In the confusion, Jim managed to free himself.
He cut Elliot loose, and together they escaped while their captors fought for their lives.
By dawn they had returned to the expedition's route.
The camp, however, was gone.
No bodies.
No supplies.
No sign of the remaining crew.
Only a single surviving crew member eventually found them and explained that the others had vanished during the night.
With no better option, the three continued toward the destination identified by my research.
Several days later they finally reached it.
Ancient stone structures emerged from the jungle like the bones of a forgotten giant. Massive pillars surrounded a sealed gateway covered in intricate glyphs unlike any language known in the modern age.
Elliot immediately began studying the inscriptions.
Hours passed before he finally understood enough to translate them.
"The Axiom Engine," he whispered. "An ancient device hidden within the Aethelian Ruins."
His eyes widened.
"We found it."
Jim smiled.
"That's great. Now can you open the gate?"
Before Elliot could answer, gunfire echoed through the ruins.
The surviving crew member had betrayed them.
He was not alone.
A squad from the Air Force emerged from the jungle and opened fire. Their orders were simple: eliminate everyone and secure the artifact.
Jim reacted instantly.
Deflecting attacks and drawing attention toward himself, he forced a path to the gate.
"Get inside!" he shouted.
Elliot hesitated only a moment before entering the ruins.
Jim followed seconds later.
The Air Force soldiers remained outside, unwilling to enter the ancient structure. Only the traitorous crew member pursued them into the darkness.
Inside the ruins, the man revealed the truth.
He worked for the Knights.
He had been sent to ensure that no one removed a weapon capable of altering the balance of power between the great houses.
"I can't let you take it," he said.
Jim drew his sword.
The duel that followed echoed through the ancient halls.
Steel clashed against steel.
The knight was skilled, but Jim was better.
After a brutal fight, Jim finally struck the killing blow.
By then Elliot had reached the central chamber.
There, resting upon a stone pedestal, was not a machine but a scroll.
The artifact of the Axiom Engine.
Elliot seized it immediately.
Moments later the ruins began to tremble.
The two men rushed back toward the entrance.
Outside, the Air Force had revealed its true strength.
The soldiers were Harpies.
Winged warriors circled above the ruins, diving from the sky with claws extended. Fighting them proved difficult. They attacked from every direction and used the clouds themselves as cover.
Jim struggled to keep them at bay.
Then Elliot unrolled the scroll.
Without hesitation, he drew a knife across his palm and allowed his blood to fall onto the ancient text.
The world changed.
Roots erupted from the earth.
Trees twisted and awakened.
Massive branches surged upward and seized the Harpies from the sky.
The jungle itself attacked.
Within moments every Air Force soldier was dead.
The battle ended as suddenly as it had begun.
Elliot stood among the destruction, staring at the scroll with awe.
The artifact had saved their lives.
Yet Jim did not look pleased.
Elliot laughed.
"With this artifact, I will become a lord."
He turned toward Jim.
"Work for me. Together we can reshape the world."
Jim shook his head.
"No."
The smile vanished from Elliot's face.
The trees responded to his anger.
Branches shot forward and wrapped around Jim's body, lifting him from the ground.
Elliot raised the scroll again.
"You should have accepted."
Jim's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
"Ignis."
Flames erupted along the blade.
Fire spread through the enchanted wood. The living branches shrieked as they burned. One after another they released their grip.
Jim landed on his feet.
The final battle began.
Elliot commanded the forest itself.
Jim answered with steel and fire.
The jungle burned around them as ancient power clashed against relentless determination.
In the end, determination won.
Jim drove his sword through Elliot's chest.
The scroll slipped from Elliot's grasp.
The trees fell silent.
For several moments neither man spoke.
Then Elliot collapsed.
Jim stood over the body of the man who had once been his companion.
Smoke drifted through the ruined clearing.
The artifact lay forgotten beside them.
Jim looked down at Elliot and sighed.
"We could have been friends."