Aeons Scion

Chapter One

The rhythmic clang of pickaxes striking stone reverberated through the expansive cavern, the army of excavators below reduced to ant-like silhouettes in the expanse. As shards burst forth, loosened by iron and brute force, the workers chants rang out in synchronised song, the rhythmic drummer beat echoing off the sheer walls.
 
From his lofty vantage point on a rocky outcropping, Nick observed the intricate lattice of scaffolding and ropes suspending the workers across the cavern’s sunken depths. The intricate network undulated and swayed, seemingly alive, as diggers scurried to and fro in the third under-chamber workings.
 
Far below, a commotion drew Nick’s eye. The diggers cleared debris with feverish urgency, widening a crevice to reveal the hidden chamber within. Golden glints sparked in the shifting torchlight as ornate metalwork was exposed.
 
Descending precariously by rope and creaking ladders, Nick quickly made his way to the freshly opened space.
 
As Nick descended the last ladder, two diggers named  Amin and Kaseem approached.
 

Kaseem’s lamp flickered unsteadily across the carved images, serpents and chimeras twisting wildly as shadows danced. Nick studied them with keen interest, attempting to decipher meaning from their bizarre shapes.

“Most curious indeed…” he murmured. “Clearly these represent no earthly beasts familiar to us.”

He noted how several figures appeared fused or blended, as if acting in unison. One particular glyph reoccurred frequently – an ouroboros serpent curved in a circle, swallowing its own tail.

Amin shuddered at the unnatural configurations while making a protective gesture against evil. “What unholy things are these, that they must be chained in stone, buried away from the eyes of God?”

Kaseem leaned closer with a frown. “This carving shows men bowing before such creatures! Worshipping them…” His eyes widened in dismay. “No pious man would abase himself so.”

Nick remained silent as implausible theories swirled in his mind. What arcane purpose had these carvings served? Decorative, religious, or some darker significance?

He examined a central figure depicted holding an ankh aloft amidst the swirling images. Its face was human yet disturbingly vague…nondescript. As if representing not an individual, but humanity itself.

“My friends,” Nick said slowly. “I suspect these carvings gesture at mysteries beyond our current understanding. But with study, their secrets may yet yield.”

The diggers eyed him doubtfully but did not openly challenge the respected effendi. United in fascination tinged with fear, the three men lingered late, the lamps guttering giving life to the fantastic figures in a stuttering dance.
 
Gilded urns flanked the edges, strange carved amulets lay buried in decades of dust. And lining the walls, arcane glyphs unfamiliar to any history Nick had studied. Intricite objects with tiny gears and protrusions sat in individual stone alcoves. Their very existence here in an ancient Egyptian tomb defied logic and any previous discoveries.
 
Nick’s fingertips traced the arcane ridges as some atavistic recognition stirred, called forth from ancestral memory banks long-buried yet still thrumming with bygone frequencies. What long-lodged familiarities now kindled in his fevered touch? Groping across gulfs ungauged by clocks, the symbols sparked stirrings before words wrapped things in familiar guises. Remembering what never was but somehow ever will remain. Destiny Manifest carved by fingers that still remembered what the conscious mind had forgotten.
 
“Remarkable, are they not?” a voice echoed from the entrance.
 
Nick turned to see Dr. Hakim ducking through the low doorway, cutting a tall silhouette across the crypt’s scrollwork. As site director sanctioned by the Corporation, Hakim had granted Nick permission to observe the excavation, albeit with thinly veiled reservation.
 
“I confess, these glyphs surpass my own expertise,” Nick admitted. “Have your scholars gleaned insight into their mysteries yet?”
 
“All in due course,” Hakim demurred. “The Corporation has unearthed many lost truths in these ruins. Full revelation requires patience, as I am sure you understand.”
 
Nick bristled at the genteel condescension. “Such knowledge surely belongs to everyone, not The Corporation alone?”
 
“Let us not confuse lofty ideals and practical affairs.” Hakim’s tone cooled. “It is The Corporation’s investment that enables these discoveries.”
 
He glanced meaningfully around the chamber. “We did not, however, sanction your current presence in this particular space. Mind that an excess of curiosity carries certain risks, when untempered by wisdom’s guiding hand.”
 
Cold fingers played down Nick’s spine, despite the sweltering heat. He had witnessed the fate that befell those defying The Corporation. Yet the glyphs’ allure fuelled his defiance.
 
“I assure you, my interests are purely scholarly,” Nick replied evenly. “But these symbols suggest something extraordinary. Come and see for yourself.”
 
Hakim’s expression hardened. “Then pray such revelations emerge at the appropriate hour. For now, I must insist you take your leave.” His hand pointedly neared his holstered pistol.
 
Nick hesitated, weighing rebellion against reason. But the unspoken threat in Hakim’s stare allowed only compliance. This battle would need to be fought another day.
 
Nick climbed the swaying ropes toward distant daylight, Hakim’s admonition ringing in his thoughts. The secrets entombed here must be unearthed, whatever the cost.
 
Though outwardly compliant, Nick’s mind churned with defiance as he left the hidden chamber. Hakim’s threats only strengthened his resolve to unravel its mysteries.  

*
 
As Nick climbed towards the desert sun, he passed the eastern gallery where a familiar team laboured. He had observed this tight-knit group of three diggers before, they looked like veterans bonded like brothers after years underground together.
 
The eldest hoisted a large urn from the rubble as the others cleared debris. Stone slabs shifted, exposing a slim crevice Nick had spotted the narrow opening weeks ago but not yet investigated. Now his curiosity piqued, Nick drew closer while the men were distracted.
 
The gap was now big enough that it unveiled an untouched annex chamber. He could see a collection of instruments arrayed on shelves. He could see the larger ones were etched with familiar glyphs. Nick’s pulse quickened. Sliding into the narrow space, he noted that the metals were an unfamiliar blue black in colour and gears machined beyond modern craftsmanship.
 
Moving further in he say an alcove with stacks of tubes holding a stash of scrolls. With trembling hands Nick opened one tube and unfurled a scroll, unveiling strange drawings that looked like technical blueprints.
 
Shadows danced with a greater intensity as his lamp rose before it’s fall dimmed the room. Nick’s mind was at tangents, he was sure this hidden cache held profound import – secrets that could reshape human knowledge. Claiming them all would require many visits. For now, patience and care were best.
 
The scroll’s glyphs appeared to writhe in the guttering lamplight, their intricacy both mesmerising and ominous – what long-forgotten hands had etched these convoluted symbols, and for what purpose?
 
The strange metallic instruments lining the dusty shelves seemed to hum at a low, almost imperceptible frequency that set Nick’s teeth on edge when he entered the annex.
 
One artefact contained tiny gears that were in motion. Ho could that be after what might have been millennia? What could drive such an inexhaustible engine – and to what end? The rhythmic ticking pulsed through Nick’s fingertips when he touched it.
 
Curiosity warred with caution in Nick’s mind. His scholarly intuition sensed that these artefacts were incredibly important. Rolling some of the cryptic scrolls securely and pocketing a handful of devices, Nick slipped from the crevice just as the diggers returned. They stared at him but said nothing. Back at the surface, Dr. Hakim’s voice echoed from afar as he conferred with Corporation cronies.
 
*
 
The late evening desert sun cast long shadows across the excavation site and it’s accompanying camp as Nick picked his way through the cramped tents. He noticed a woman watching him intently from down the pasageway between tents. Her emerald eyes followed his every move with interest as he approached.
 
“Forgive me, we haven’t been introduced. I’m Nicholas Fletcher, with the local research society and part-time with the Times of London.” He extended his hand in greeting.
 
The woman regarded his hand with a small smile before shaking it. “Lily DuBois. A pleasure to make your acquaintance Nicholas.”
 
Her accent hinted at French roots, and her intricately emboridered linen robes suggested time spent abroad in the East. Nick was intrigued.
 
“An excavation of this size, out here in the desert…it must be searching for something quite momentous,” Nick fished.
 
Lily smiled cryptically. “Let us simply say, there are many mysteries yet to unearth about the past.” She nodded knowingly as she turned away. “In time, all is revealed… I must bid you adieu for the moment Mr. Flectcher. I hope we meet again soon.”
 
Nick watched her disappear into the tents, uncertain what to make of the intriguing Ms. DuBois. But a distinct sense she could be a vital ally lingered. Only time would tell if their destinies aligned in purpose. For now, he had glyphs to translate.
 
*

Back in his tent Nick pondered the cryptic symbols with intense curiosity, grasping the scroll gently to avoid causing damage. Though accustomed to deciphering ancient languages, these enigmatic glyphs continued to thwart translation. Their intricate shapes and repeating motifs hinted at underlying patterns or phonetic rules awaiting discovery.

What ancient minds crafted this written codex, and for what purpose? The scroll’s durable metallic substrate indicated advanced materials science preceding Egypt’s earliest dynasties. Perhaps the key to decoding the text lay in identifying its source civilization.

Nick studied the glyphs meticulously through his magnifying lens, making detailed sketches to analyze later for recurrent symbols. Careful scrutiny might unveil subtle clues embedded throughout the script’s odd flourishes and geometries.

Frustration simmered at failing to wrest meaning from the arcane passages…so far. Yet resolving even one phrase could provide the pivotal context needed to decipher whole sections. And within that semantic gateway awaited revelations impossible to predict.

Nick gently rolled the scroll, contemplating the creators’ possible intentions. Warning? Invocation? History? Prophecy? What mental universe had shaped this information system so alien to modern analysis? For now its secrets remainedsheathed in primeval code. But Nick welcomed intellectual adversity. And he had plenty of time on this dig to pit his wits against the past’s cryptic puzzle.
 
A dry wind whistled outside, making the tent flutter. Nick shrugged off fanciful notions conjured by the desert’s timeless vastness. Likely the scrolls contained mere mythic embellishments. With studious care he wrapped and concealed them for later meticulous analysis. Their mysteries would yet yield to facts.
 
Still, as Nick drifted to sleep, half-remembered dreams echoed with strange whispers in forgotten languages. His subconscious toiled on puzzles his waking mind could not divine. Patience and diligence would provide answers eventually…hopefully. For now an unsettling aura lingered, hinting at revelations far outside convention’s safe harbour. The scrolls’ import – and peril – awaited revelation.

*

The next morning the desert air already shimmered with heat as Nick picked his way among the cramped tents. He eyed the heavily guarded section warily. Chanting echoed from within, arousing his curiosity about what secrets lay concealed.

As Nick cautiously approached, suddenly a commotion erupted on the far side of the dig – raised voices and a worker gesturing wildly near the elevator shaft. The guards peered over with concerned frowns before rushing over to investigate.

Seizing the opportunity, Nick slipped past the now unattended gate into the restricted area. The chanting grew louder as he navigated between supply sheds, catching glimpses of robed figures through cracks in a large canvas pavilion. Strange symbols marked the entrance flap.

Nick’s pulse quickened, senses heightened for any approaching footsteps. The cause of the worker’s outburst remained unclear, but the resulting distraction granted him precious minutes to uncover whatever ritual was underway. Creeping silently along the pavilion’s edge, Nick scouted for gaps offering visual access before the guards returned.

The possibilities now open to him were dangerous yet full of promise. This chance to pierce an intriguing secret may not come again. Nick steeled himself and edged nearer to the tantalizing truth being obscured. If caught, he would think fast – but turning back was unthinkable. The encrypted mysteries beckoned within.
 
“Monsieur Fletcher, what an unexpected pleasure.” 
 
Nick turned to see Lily DuBois regarding him coolly, her sharp gaze taking his measure. A lace veil obscured the lower half of her face, but her piercing emerald eyes conveyed volumes.
 
“Ms. DuBois, hello again.” Nick kept his tone neutral, and posture relaxed through force of will.
 
“I don’t recall granting you access to this area,” Lily replied, icy as steel. “Your journalistic privileges are limited, as you well know.”
 
Nick met her gaze levelly. “Curiosity guides me, nothing more. What fascinating discoveries might such mysterious rituals portend?”
 
Lily’s eyes narrowed, the unspoken warning clear. But Nick had long excelled at verbal fencing, and he lived for these games of wit and will.
 
“Have care where your curiosity leads, monsieur. Secrets guard themselves for good reason.” Lily paused, holding his gaze. “But perhaps we could discuss this further over tea. The days here can be so…demanding. Follow me monsieur.”

*
 
Nick settled onto the cushioned chair, scanning the intricate details of Lily’s canvas tent – a refined oasis apart from the gritty dig site. Outside, workers laboured under the baking sun, but in here the air was scented with bergamot and honey.
 
Lily returned bearing a handsome silver samovar and fragile tea glasses decorated with golden filigree. With elegant motions honed since childhood, she prepared the tea in the intricate Russian style.
 
Selecting a delicate loose-leaf blend, Lily measured portions into a small ornate teapot. “My family hails from Irkutsk near Lake Baikal. Tea customs vary across Siberia, but we prepare it strong before diluting it.”
 
As the tea steeped, releasing floral aromas, Lily arranged homemade jam-filled pirozhki on a porcelain platter edged with blue and gold accents. “Mother always served little snacks like these pirozhki with our tea. She was so proud of upholding our cultural traditions.”
 
When the deep amber brew reached optimal saturation, Lily carefully diluted it to pale ochre in each glass. “The key is to make it very strong, but serve it mild in the glass.” 
 
With A graceful flourish, she presented a glass to Nick, inviting him to further dilute the hot tea to his taste using a small silver ladle to add cold water from the samovar well.
 
Breathing in the aromatic vapor, Lily smiled wistfully. “Proper tea is the heart of any Russian home. Mother would be shocked at having to take tea in such wild conditions out here. But I think she would approve nonetheless.”
 
“Mother always said tea should be made properly, wherever one finds oneself,” Lily remarked. Through the rising steam, Nick studied her refined features – hints of aristocratic breeding peeked through her scholarly persona.
 
Nick accepted the proffered glass, breathed in the delicate aroma. “Yet you chose to depart gilded parlours for desert dust and mystery?”
 
Lily’s eyes flashed at the implied question. “My interests go beyond airy comforts.”
 
They sipped in silence. Lily met his gaze over the glittering rim of her glass. In that suspended moment, unspoken understandings passed between two minds trained in the arts of discernment. Then the mask descended again. But Nick had glimpsed the spirit behind it – and felt a shock of recognition kindred to his own, he felt an intense sense of disorientation followed by a strange calmness of familiarity.
 
“More tea?” Lily asked briskly, once again collected.
 
A beat and Nick came back “please,” and extended his glass. He suddenly had a feeling there was going to be much to unravel in their futures.
 
“Reporter for the Times, you said?” Lily regarded Nick coolly over her tea. “Sent to cover this little excavation in the desert?”
 
Nick nodded casually, though his pulse quickened. “The public has such fascination with Egypt’s mysteries. This dig provided an opportune topic for my column.”
 
He took a thoughtful sip. “Though I must admit, aspects of the site intrigue me beyond a mere story. The operation seems…unconventional, a large company funding archaeologists is not how this is normally done it.” 
 
He arched an eyebrow in an unspoken question. Lily’s expression remained unreadable.
 
“And you, Ms. DuBois? A worldly woman such as yourself, how did you come to join this venture?” Nick kept his tone politely curious.
 
Lily traced the rim of her glass silently. “My interests have always been…esoteric. This project aligns with certain longstanding fascinations.”  
 
Her eyes locked on Nicks with sudden intensity. “There are powers in this world beyond the material, forces that cannot be grasped by traditional science alone. I seek to understand them.”
 
She leaned closer, gauging Nick’s reaction. But he simply nodded thoughtfully, giving no indication of his true thoughts.

“So Monsieur Fletcher, dare I ask what drew a British newspaperman so far out into the desert sands?” Lily inquired, refilling their tea with a gracious smile that did not fully conceal her sharp gaze.

“Curiosity I suppose,” Nick replied lightly, though sensing she sought more. “Reports of a major excavation funded by The Corporation piqued my curiosity. Big business suddenly funding archaeology? There had to be an intriguing story there.”

Lily nodded knowingly. “Ah but this dig aims beyond petty publicity, no? Our patrons seeks certain…prized artefacts, shall we say. You came searching for a scoop yet found an enterprise shrouded in secrecy.”

“An apt observation,” Nick conceded, matching her candor. “Though secrets themselves rouse journalists’ curiosity exponentially, as I’m sure you grasp, Mademoiselle DuBois.”

“Please, call me Lily.” She took a thoughtful sip of her tea. “Indeed, I too know the thirst that mystery excites in curious minds. A most captivating but sometimes perilous allure.”

Her bold gaze held a glint of challenge that Nick found stimulating. Two minds and wills testing, probing, parrying across an intellectual field of play.

“Yet you strike me as one quite familiar with peril, Lily, if I may?” he ventured. “An intrepid woman charting her own course well off the beaten track.”

Lily flashed a look of surprise and something akin to delight at the implicit compliment. “You judge my character quickly, Monsieur. But true, I find cultivated gardens of academia…rather confining. The wild, overgrown jungles of the real world offer such richer treasures for those bold enough to seek them.”

She leaned forward, eyes alight. “Tell me, have you read Sergeant’s theories on traces of ancient techno-spiritual cultures scattered across primitive societies?”

“But of course, they’ve generated quite provocative debates,” Nick replied, intrigued that Lily referenced cutting-edge archaeology scholarship rather than folk myths or new age mysticism. Their dialogue soon turned to obscure academic journals, controversy around evidence of precocious astronomy predating Stonehenge, the puzzle of pyramid evolution across early cultures.

Lily gestured animatedly as she referenced her own field research into Aboriginal dreamtime rituals. “Their oral histories describe mimi spirits wielding spears of glowing crystal! Echoes of advanced beings in ages forgotten?”

Nick nodded enthusiastically. “How convenient that mainstream archaeology ignores inconvenient findings. Yet myths hold kernels of historic truth passed down. We forget that stone and metal corrode away, scattered traces enduring to be decoded.”

He gently turned their debate toward surprisingly sophisticated alphabets among the Phoenicians and early Slavic cultures, probing for Lily’s take. But she deftly steered the conversation to more intellectually flirtatious topics that revealed little of her past. Nick was content to fence verbally for the thrill of challenge.

“You seem quite conversant in esoteric and, dare I say, heretical theories for a common newspaperman,” Lily prodded with an arched eyebrow.

Nick spread his hands innocently. “An avid student of history merely. Before journalism, I nearly pursued archaeology as a profession myself.”

“Is that so?” Lily’s gaze turned coquettish. “Careful Monsieur Fletcher, or I shall picture you as some dusty Oxford academic rather than the bold adventurer correspondent.”

Nick chuckled at her imagined caricature. “Rest assured Mademoiselle, I am equally at home unraveling ancient papyri as I am infiltrating black market relic traders. One skill supports the other in my profession.”

Their lively banter danced from topic to topic as afternoon stretched into evening. Lily demonstrated surprising insights into occult concepts like Akashic records, dissatisfied with mainstream religious or scientific paradigms.

Nick shared outrageous tales of exposing smugglers of rare cultural artifacts. “The illegal art trade can be deeply dangerous,” he remarked over a fresh pour of now lukewarm tea. “One learns to defend oneself against thieves unwilling to part with their pilfered treasures.”

Lily appraised his lean physique in a manner Nick found subtly thrilling. “Indeed, you appear to keep rather…fit for a scholarly gentleman.”

“Fieldwork makes considerable demands,” Nick replied lightly, letting her remarks pass without comment. Inwardly though, he felt the palpable attraction kindling between them. But both hid parts of themselves behind cultivated facades – not yet ready to expose hidden depths.

“Tell me Lily, have you formed any theories about our patron’s intense interest this particular excavation?” Nick asked, intentionally redirecting the conversation. “A site bearing little historical renown or spectacular finds that I gather.”

Lily waved dismissively. “Oh The Corporation is funding a dozen digs across the region. This one seeks rumored sites mentioned in obscure local legends. They collect antiquities voraciously it seems.”

She offered nothing more, and Nick knew further prying would only raise defenses. Still, her posture hinted she was not being entirely forthright. They were fencing again in a more personal arena.
 
As Lily reached across the table to pour more tea, intricate markings were visible on her forearm beneath the rolled-up sleeve.
 
“Forgive my curiosity, but I couldn’t help noticing your tattoos,” Nick remarked. “They have a geometric elegance quite different from the common motifs.”
 
Lily quickly adjusted her sleeve to cover them. “An old tradition in my region of Russia,” she said briskly. “We craft the ink ourselves from native plants.”
 
She changed the subject pointedly, and Nick took the hint and backed off. But it was clear body art held deeper meaning for her than mere fashion.
 
“I have always found tattoos fascinating,” Nick mused. “The ways people etch identity and beliefs into their very flesh. Externalising the internal.”
 
Lily nodded. “Ink forged from the earth, patterned by human hands. Perhaps we shape ourselves more than we know.”

As afternoon faded toward evening, Lily insisted on giving Nick a partial tour of the camp. They passed scout crews inspecting a newly uncovered passage sloping underground.

“We found pictographs of serpentine creatures down there,” Lily remarked. “And mineral deposits causing peculiar electromagnetic phenomena. Highly unusual…”

She trailed off, catching herself about to reveal sensitive details. Nick’s journalist instincts perked up, but he merely asked polite questions about artifact classification and dating methods, allowing Lily to steer the topic to academic neutrality.

Dusk was falling as they exited the dig headquarters past guards securing the gates. Lily gave Nick a searching look with unsettlingly penetrating eyes. “Well Monsieur Fletcher, I must say you are not the average newspaper correspondent. Nor I the typical research librarian, perhaps.”

Nick nodded. “Indeed, there is more to both of us than meets the eye. More still to be…revealed.”

He let the implicit invitation linger. Lily considered him silently as desert stars kindled overhead, her lovely features obscured in silhouette. What timeworn memories or recent wounds also lingered in her depths?

“Until we meet again?” Nick final prompted gently.

Lily grasped his hand, gazing at him with an unreadable expression. “Oh I rather expect you shall see me before long, Monsieur. The nights here hold their own secrets…”

She smiled and walked off without a backward glance. Watching her disappear into the darkness, Nick felt intoxicated by more than mere scholarly debate. He had sampled the razor wire of her keen intellect, and been left wanting more. Lily’s allure held depths few women he encountered matched. If she desired to play at mystery, he would oblige for now. But she did not know the tenacity of journalists at unearthing secrets hidden before their very eyes.

*
 
The next morning, he headed straight for Lily’s tent, eager to pick up their discussion. But only vacant canvas remained, billowing in the morning breeze. She had slipped away under cover of darkness, leaving no trace or explanation.
 
Nick stood surveying the empty space. He should have known this beguiling mystery would not resolve so easily. But their connection felt undeniably real, whatever secrets Lily was guarding.
 
Nick turned from Lily’s abandoned tent, disheartened by her sudden disappearance. But as he retreated to his own modest quarters, a growing sense of disquiet needled him. Fumbling with the tent flaps, he hastily lit an oil lamp. Its flickering light revealed chaotic disarray – belongings strewn about, bedsheets tossed aside.
 
With rising dread, Nick rushed to check his travel trunk. Throwing back the lid confirmed his worst fear: the ancient scrolls and metal artefacts he had secretly gathered were gone. Only empty slots in the felt lining mocked him.
 
Anger washed over him as the implications sunk in. This was no random robbery; the thieves had come specifically for those buried treasures.
 
Nick sank down amid the debris, mind racing over their conversation, seeking clues he had missed. Lily’s intricate tattoos flashed in his memory. The geometric symbols adorning her skin did they bear a similarity to the markings on some artefacts?
 
A cryptic warning, she had uttered now echoed forebodingly… “Secrets guard themselves for good reason.”
 
Nick buried his head in his hands. She had played him masterfully, appealing to his curiosity while disguising her true motives. He had exposed precious mysteries to dangerous interests lurking closer than he realised.
 
Could it really be Lily? There were others with an incentive to keep these treasuries for themselves, not least those who sponsored this dig. Nick weighed his next move carefully. The game was now far more complex, the risks grave. But his journalistic and historians instincts bristled at someone trying to hide this knowledge from the world. The time had come to dig deeper – whatever the cost.