"Is such a thing possible?" Alexei asked doubtfully. "A cave entrance that's visible only under special lighting?"
"There are many unusual things at Issyk-Kul," Rustam replied. "But in this case, we're talking about a natural phenomenon. The entrance is located in a cliff and under normal lighting blends with the surrounding rocks. But when light falls at a certain angle, it creates a contrast that makes the entrance visible."
"And when does this happen?" Alexei inquired.
"Once a year, on the summer solstice," said Rustam. "Which, by the way, will occur in a few days."
Alexei and Dinara exchanged glances. What a coincidence. Or was it fate?
"So if we want to find the 'Key of Solomon,' we only have a few days?" Dinara clarified.
"Exactly," Rustam nodded. "But there's a more serious problem than the timing." His expression darkened. "Karabaev. That man is obsessed with finding Nestorian treasures. For years, he's been gathering information, financing expeditions, bribing officials. And now that he's learned about the medallion, he'll stop at nothing to get it."
"But how did he find out?" asked Dinara. "We were careful."
"In our time, it's difficult to keep secrets," Rustam sighed. "Especially from a man with such resources and connections. Perhaps someone at the museum told him about your conversation. Or they found mention of the medallion in Igor's papers in the university archive."
Ermek, who had been listening silently to the conversation, spoke up:
"Whatever happened, we must get ahead of Karabaev. Find the 'Key of Solomon' before he does."
"I agree," Rustam nodded. "But we need to be extremely cautious. Right now, his men are probably combing the area looking for us."
"Do you have a specific plan?" asked Alexei.
"Yes," Rustam replied. "Tomorrow at dawn, we'll go to where your grandfather found the medallion. It's a cave complex in the mountains not far from Kurmenty. There we'll find clues that will help us determine the exact location of the entrance mentioned in the legend."
"But won't Karabaev's men be watching these caves?" Dinara questioned.
"Surely," Rustam agreed. "But there are old paths known only to locals. We'll take those. Plus, we have an advantage—the medallion. Without it, Karabaev will never find the entrance, no matter how many men he sends."
Alexei picked up the medallion from the table and looked at it pensively. In the light of the kerosene lamp (Rustam principally did not use electric lighting in the evenings, preferring "living fire"), the silver gleamed dully, and the strange symbols seemed to come alive, moving in the play of shadows.
"Do you really believe that this crystal, the 'Key of Solomon,' possesses such power?" he asked Rustam.
The old man looked at him for a long time before answering.
"I've lived a long life, Alexei. I've seen many strange and inexplicable things. Especially here, at Issyk-Kul." He paused. "I cannot say with certainty that the crystal possesses all the properties mentioned in the legend. But there is something special about it. Something that made the Nestorians hide it from the world. Something that made your grandfather keep the secret all his life." He looked Alexei directly in the eyes. "And something that makes Karabaev so desperately search for it."
Silence fell in the room. Only the wick in the lamp crackled and night sounds came from the garden—the chirping of crickets, the rustle of leaves, occasionally the hooting of an owl.
"Now you need to rest," said Rustam, rising. "Tomorrow will be a difficult day. Aigul will show you to your rooms."
They followed Aigul, who led Dinara to one room and Alexei to another. The room was small but cozy, with a low bed, a small table by the window, and a chest for belongings. On the walls hung traditional Kyrgyz carpets—shyrdaks—with bright geometric patterns woven from rich red and blue threads, preserving ancient symbols and stories of the nomadic people, behind which the breath of high-mountain steppes seemed to hide.
Alexei sat on the bed, still holding the medallion in his hand. The events of the past few days swirled in his head, forming an incredible story—an ancient treasure, a mysterious crystal with mystical properties, a chase, danger… It seemed he had fallen into an adventure novel or film.
He put the medallion back around his neck and hid it under his shirt. The medallion responded with familiar warmth, as if happy to return to its place.
Alexei went to the window. Beyond it stretched a garden illuminated by the full moon—silvery apple trees, pears, apricots. And further—the dark silhouettes of mountains and the shimmering surface of Issyk-Kul, reflecting the stars.
There, in those mountains and under those waters, lay hidden a secret that generations had kept. A secret to which the medallion was the key. And in three days, they would have a chance to uncover it.
If, of course, Karabaev didn't get to it first.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in," he said.
Dinara entered the room. She had changed into simple home clothes and let her hair down. In the dimness of the room, her eyes seemed especially dark and deep.
"Can't sleep?" she asked, sitting on the chair by the table.
"Too much information for one day," Alexei replied, returning to the bed. "It all seems… unreal."
"I know," Dinara nodded. "Even for me, having grown up with these legends, everything that's happening feels like a dream. Or a movie."
"Do you really believe this story?" asked Alexei. "About a crystal with unusual properties?"
Dinara pondered before answering:
"I'm a historian. I was taught to rely on facts, on documents, on archaeological finds. But I also grew up here, among these mountains and legends." She looked out the window at the starry sky. "There are things that science cannot yet explain. Especially here, at Issyk-Kul. The lake holds many secrets." She turned to Alexei. "And you? Do you believe?"
Alexei touched the medallion under his shirt. It was warm again, almost alive to the touch.
"A week ago, I would have definitely said 'no,'" he answered honestly. "But now… after everything that's happened… I don't know. This medallion behaves strangely. And people are willing to kill for it. So there must be something to this story."
Dinara nodded.
"That's why we must find the crystal before Karabaev. If the legend is even partially true, in his hands, the 'Key of Solomon' could become a dangerous weapon."
"Or the greatest blessing for humanity, if one believes in its healing properties," Alexei remarked.
"It all depends on the person who possesses it," said Dinara. "At least, that's what the legend says."
She rose, preparing to leave.
"We need to get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a difficult day."
At the door, she stopped and turned back:
"I'm glad you're here, Alexei. Despite all the dangers… I'm glad we're together again. Good night."
"Good night," he replied, watching her leave.
After Dinara closed the door, Alexei sat motionless for some time. Then he took off the medallion and placed it on the table by the bed. The silver disc gleamed dully in the moonlight streaming through the window. The symbols on its surface seemed to form mysterious patterns that were impossible to read but somehow felt familiar, like a long-forgotten dream.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow they would set out in search of the secret that the medallion had guarded. A secret that could forever change their lives.
With this thought, Alexei went to bed. He dreamed of mountains, caves, a lake glowing from within with a bluish light. And the figure of a monk standing on the shore with outstretched hands, as