"The goddess of Sun, Arinne, have mercy on us. We poor people need your light and warmth, but we are equally vulnerable to them. Arinne Arinne, have mercy..." the old man kept praying with his eyes closed. He crouched on a dry and cracked ground, his silhouette was wavering because of the heat.
"This old man! Do you still believe in gods? It's been thousands of years since the gods abandoned us. They won't hear your voice, your pleas. Instead, let's work quickly, finish this job, and leave"
Arsh called out with a mischievous tone, teasing the old man. But he got a slap on the head from his father.
The old man didn't mind Arsh. He was used to it as youngsters these days didn't believe in the goddess.
The man kept praying while he slowly poured water from his leather flask. In an instant, the cracked ground swallowed the offering while the heat turned the rest into vapor. Soon, his voice turned into a whisper.
"Arinne… Arinne, have mercy on us."
It was the end of the break. Soon, everyone finished their meals and prayers to return to work.
The desert was hot, the sun of Arinne burning their skin mercilessly. Even though they had spent their lives here, sometimes these conditions were too challenging. They were all wearing plain white clothes. Their heads were all covered, and they wore veils to protect their faces from the sand. But it wasn't enough to protect themselves from the heat.
Most of the time, they worked until nightfall, stopping only when the darkness made it impossible to continue. They didn't know what they were looking for, why they were digging, or how long they had to dig.
They had worked with archaeologists from Symron before. But this group, unlike the others, gave them no information or leads—they were simply told to dig. Arsh knew his father was uneasy; if anything was damaged, they would be blamed.
There were two archaeologists and over ten men in their group. They had done nothing but rest in the village since they arrived. Only when the sun started to set would they come to the tent near the site to watch the work. Most of the time, it was just four or five guards constantly keeping an eye on them .
A Arsh always found it ironic. This land belonged to them; it was his country, his village. But if an artifact or even a small piece of treasure was damaged during excavation, they treated them like a thief or a criminal.
He hated this.
But there is nothing he could do. They have to work to survive.
It wasn't always like this. Even though he had not been born yet to witness those times, his grandfather used to tell him that life had been easier before the wars.
Twenty years ago, their country was invaded by Symran. After that, making a living became difficult. Many young men died, the country was forced to pay war reparations, and basic resources grew scarce, making life even harder for the Kurshan people.
While he was thinking about that, he turned his head towards the tent where Professor Millway was resting. The head of the archeology group was watching them under the umbrella, sipping something from a cup.
Actually, this wasn't the first time they had worked for him. His father's group usually worked in construction in the nearby villages, but they would occasionally take part in these excavations because the pay was good.
Professor Millway had been coming here for almost ten years. Sometimes he would rest in their village before heading deeper into the desert, or he would carry out excavations nearby.
Even though Arsh didn't know what he was searching for, he had often seen the bald man leave this place in disappointment. He would just pass the job to someone else and move on.
But this time, the excavation was taking too long and, unlike other times, there were no findings. Before, they had occasionally been able to find burial chambers. Not every excavation was a success, and this time it didn't look like they would find anything either. It was a sloppy way to work, even for them.
But they had to continue until Professor Millway told them to stop.
In Arsh's mind, this man looked nothing like a professor. He was bald, had a pot belly, and looked too stupid to be one. It wasn't like Arsh had seen many professors before, but he assumed they should be elegant people with wisdom in their eyes, like his grandfather. Arsh also hated seeing his father work for a man who looked down on the villagers.
They worked for a couple of hours more. Some of the men were talking to his father about finishing up and returning to the village for the day. Everyone was tired. Arsh was the youngest among them. Maybe because of his youth, he didn't struggle as much as the others. Still, he also wanted the job to be over quickly, as the blazing sun was burning his skin. The excavation continued until darkness began to fall.
When it was time to go home, everyone started gathering their belongings.
As Arsh finished packing and walked toward his father, he noticed a small hole in the ground appear right beneath his feet. Before he could react, ground crumbled and swallowed him whole.
...
It wasn't a direct fall, he felt his body crashing into something he couldn't see and his skin was scratched. In a couple of seconds, he was on the ground on his back.
He felt for a moment that all his bones ached from the impact. Pain shot through him. He gasped for breath.
He was hearing some voices, but couldn't focus, sounds were buzzing in his ears.
"Hey! Arsh… Arsh, are you okay?"
"Arsh, make some noise if you can hear us"
"…there is no voice. Did he faint?"
"How deep is this well? Where are the ropes? These are too short! Don't we have longer ones?"
Everyone was shouting and running around.
When Arsh started to come to his senses, he saw a the stars from the hole above him.
He wasn't sure how long he had been lying there. He wasn't sure how long he had been lying there. From where he was, he tried to estimate how far he had fallen. He guessed the well was five meters deep. The things he had crashed into were dry tree roots. He was lucky. If they hadn't slowed down his fall, something bad could have happened. His head would have cracked open, or at the very least, he would have broken a few bones... Perhaps they were already broken.
As he lay still, trying to feel his limbs, he heard his father's voice.
"Why is he not answering? Should I try to go down?…"
"Dad… Dad!" he tried to call his father but It was hard to shout as if his bones were piercing his lungs. Only low hoarse voice came from his throat. But his dad heard him.
"My son, are you okay? May the grace of Arinne be upon us."
"I'm okay… just a bit scratched," he said slowly, then started to cough in pain.
"Don't worry… don't worry, son. The others went to the village to bring longer ropes. I will be there soon."
"Okay… I'm waiting."
After lying still for a while without moving, he heard another voice. It was Professor Millway. He was asking the men whether the boy who had fallen had regained consciousness.
His voice was a mix of excitement and worry while getting closer to the well. He was trying to find out whether the boy was alive. But Arsh knew it was not because he feared something had happened to the boy who worked for him. It was the possibility of finally finding what he had been searching for for over a decade.
Soon, Arsh saw the torchlight shimmering against the man's bald head
"What are you seeing there? Tell me!"
'You could at least have the decency to ask if I'm alright,' Arsh thought to himself
"It's so dark here, I can't see anything… only dry branches."
It was getting darker. The light from the torch Professor Millway was holding only illuminated his own face. Arsh couldn't see anything at all.
"I will throw you a torch. Look around carefully."
He slowly got up from the ground. Although his body ached slightly, there didn't seem to be any broken or fractured bones.
He stepped aside and waited for the torch to fall. When it struck the ground, the sudden light revealed that the well was wider than he had first thought. The hole he had fallen through was about a meter wide, but it widened downward like a funnel. At first, he thought it was a water well, but he quickly dismissed the idea. The excavation work above had weakened the ground, making the surface too fragile to support Arsh's weight, which eventually caused it to collapse.
The ground and walls of the well were covered with dry branches like snakes entwined together. He found it strange that there were tree roots here. The villages were built in oases or places where water sources could be extracted. Outside these places, it was impossible to see trees in this barren lands.
There were also a lot of holes in the walls. Probably these holes were opened by animals and reptiles.
He was trying to look around carefully because he was really worried that a snake might come out. This was a place where snakes liked to nest. He was scared of them.
He told the Professor what he saw in the well, one by one. But the man kept telling him to look around more carefully.
"Where is my father? When will they get me out of here?" Arsh asked, once he was sure there was nothing around him except dried tree roots.
"In a moment, in a moment. Your father sent someone to the village to get rope and ladders. Now you do as I say. Don't you see anything else? It should be there."
'So the thing he is looking for somewhere here, but there is nothing…'
With nothing else to do, he moved a little closer to the walls with the torch in hand and continued examining them. After a while, he noticed a large hole behind the dry roots. He stuck the torch into the ground, took out the small pickaxe hanging from his belt, and cleared the area in front of the hole.
The opening was about a meter wide and roughly one and a half meters high. When he held the torch inside, he noticed it widened further into the darkness. He stepped back and shouted
"There is a tunnel here. I am going to look at it."
As an answer he heard his father voice again.
"Arsh be careful, don't go there, wait until we come"
His father was worried. But on the other hand Professor was excited.
"Okay, look carefully, okay? It is really important. If you find something there, I will reward you."
'Just find the thing you want and don't come to this desert again,' Arsh mumbled to himself.
Before going inside, he hesitated for a second, but he was also curious to see where the tunnel led. He took a deep breath while bending down to make his way in.
As he entered, he cleared the branches in his path with the pickaxe in his hand, making his way forward. He moved carefully, trying not to let the dry branches catch fire from the torch.
Before long, as the light from his torch fully illuminated the darkness ahead, he realized the tunnel wasn't nearly as deep as he had imagined.
For a moment, he felt they wouldn't find anything here either, but before long, he noticed something. At the end of the tunnel, the wall was flat and not covered with roots. As he got closer, he saw some symbols carved into the wall.
'Is it a gate of a tomb? No, it is not.' He had seen a lot of bruial chambers until today. But this was unlike any of them. The shape of the door was different, and there were also circular symbols with different shapes inside them that he was not familiar with.
The only thing he recognized was the writing on the wall. It was an ancient language, but it didn't belong to this region. He knew that this language was written in Nicaean, but didn't have any idea how to read. He look at the writing for a while. He didn't have any idea how to read this ancient symbols.
'Hmm… so what does it mean?'
Arsh wanted to touch the symbols on the door, which were framed by the ancient writing. They had the shape of a crescent moon and a star above them.
But something happened the moment his hand touched the wall. First, he heard a loud noise, then he saw a crack appear in the middle of the stone. He jumped back in fear.
'Did... did I do that? I only touched it with my fingertip. How is this possible?'
While he stood there in shock, the crack in the wall kept growing wider and wider with a loud, grinding sound. The ground was shaking, and dust and dry roots began falling from the walls onto him. This continued for a time—he wasn't sure how long. When everything finally stopped, the wall had turned into a gate into a gate, opening into a darkness even deeper than the night.