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Lightbringer
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This is an RP between me and Mother, feel free to follow along, but please don't post unless your name is in the title. Thank you. I hope you enjoy the story! . A brilliant young historian specializing in Aztec civilization, is unexpectedly hired by a wealthy magnate worth over $20 million. His mission: to track down a legendary cache of Aztec gold rumored to lie hidden deep in the jungles near ancient Tenochtitlán. The magnate believes he will undertake the expedition alone—until the day of his departure from America, when he discovers his employer has also enlisted another expert: a woman, equally driven, whose doctorate focuses on the mysteries of another ancient tribe (your choice). Together, the two scholars are thrust into a perilous quest filled with treacherous jungles, deadly traps, cryptic riddles, and layers of history stretching back more than two millennia. But as they draw closer to the treasure, they realize that the true stakes extend far beyond gold—and survival itself may depend on the choices they make. . |
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Lightbringer
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Name: Dr. Elias Navarro Nicknames: Eli (only by his close friends and family), Elias, Doctor, Doctor Navarro Age: 28 Gender: Male Occupation: PHD in Aztec Historical Studies Languages: English (Native), Spanish (Fluent), Nahuatl (Aztec Reading Language) Appearance Elias Navarro is a 28-year-old man with a rugged, outdoorsy look that shows he spends more time in the field than in lecture halls. He’s tall, around 6’1”, with a lean but muscular build that comes from years of trekking through jungles and climbing into ruins rather than lifting weights at a gym. His dark brown hair is always a little messy, like he just walked out of a storm or hasn’t seen a mirror in days, and his blue eyes seem to always be scanning the world around him, as if he’s trying to piece together a hidden puzzle. He has sharp features, a bit of stubble on his chin, and a serious expression that softens when he smiles, which isn’t often, but always feels genuine when it happens. He dresses for function rather than fashion—usually in light-colored, breathable shirts with the sleeves rolled up, sturdy cargo pants, and scuffed hiking boots. Around his neck, he wears a black obsidian pendant etched with a single Aztec glyph. It’s not flashy, but it catches the light in a strange, almost eerie way. He never takes it off. It was given to him by his mentor, who died during a dangerous expedition in the Guatemalan highlands. Elias never talks about what happened, but he touches the pendant sometimes when he's thinking—or when things go quiet. Background Elias was born and raised in northern North Carolina, in a quiet, wooded town where the summers were long and the nights were filled with the sound of crickets. He grew up with one foot in books and the other in the outdoors. His father was a high school science teacher, and his mother was a nurse, both of whom encouraged him to explore and ask questions. Elias was always the kind of kid who'd rather read about ancient civilizations than play video games, but he also loved hiking through the woods, pretending he was exploring a forgotten world. That blend of curiosity and love for nature eventually led him to double major in History and Biology at a university in North Carolina. He went on to earn a PhD in Mesoamerican Studies, focusing specifically on the Aztecs, and later got his MD with a concentration in tropical and expeditionary medicine. During his studies, he took part in multiple field research trips to Mexico and Central America, where he fell in love with the complex history of the region. It was on one of these trips that his mentor, Dr. Hector Ramos, died under mysterious circumstances. Elias never speaks about what happened, but the event changed him. He is also someone who doesn’t make the same mistake twice. Elias had originally married his High School sweetheart Violet, at 22. They had been dating for 6 years, and had moved to Chapel Hill with him at UNC. Nine months after their wedding, Violet learned that she was pregnant and Elias had been filled with joy. He was going to be a father. But that was the happiest he would ever be in their relationship. Joshua was born three weeks prematurely, but Violet had died in childbirth. Elias was devastated, and he now held the responsibility of raising young Joshua on his own. But then it turned worse. As he was going through Violet 's things a few years later, he stumbled upon her social media accounts, where he learned of another man that she had been talking to, up until they had been married. Elias tracked down the man to hear what happened, and was stunned to learn that Violet had cheated on him. Making matters worse, Joshua wasn't even him son, but the other man's. When he went back to confront him the man was gone, never to be heard from again. But nonetheless, Elias treated Joshua as his own son, as he would always be his son. Personality Elias has a laid-back, calm energy that makes him easy to be around at first. He speaks with a smooth Southern drawl that he’s never tried to hide, and he doesn’t rush his words or his thoughts. He’s the type of guy who seems like he’s always thinking three steps ahead, but he’s not arrogant about it. There’s a quiet seriousness in the way he moves and speaks, like someone who has seen too much to be naïve, but hasn’t lost all of his hope. He tends to be more reserved than outgoing, and while he’s friendly enough, he keeps his real thoughts and feelings close to the chest. He doesn’t open up easily and rarely shares personal details unless he absolutely trusts someone. That being said, he’s dependable, grounded, and honest. He treats the ancient cultures he studies with deep respect and doesn’t believe history should be taken lightly or used for profit. Though he's patient and forgiving, he's also stubborn, especially when it comes to protecting sites he thinks are sacred. Elias is the kind of person who may not talk much, but when he does, people listen—because they know he means every word. Strengths Elias is incredibly smart, both in a book-smart and practical way. His knowledge of Aztec history, language, and symbolism is almost encyclopedic, and he can read Nahuatl and Spanish fluently. He’s also trained in tropical medicine, so he knows how to treat injuries, illnesses, and bites that would send most people into panic. His time in the field has made him a skilled survivalist, able to navigate through jungles, track movement, and set up secure camps in hostile environments. He’s an excellent problem-solver, with a knack for decoding ancient glyphs and recognizing patterns that others miss. He also works well under pressure and doesn’t let fear cloud his judgment, which makes him a natural leader in high-stress situations. His motivation makes him incredibly focused and hard to manipulate, which is part of why he was chosen for the mission. Weaknesses Despite his calm nature and impressive skillset, Elias struggles with trust and emotional vulnerability. The death of his mentor left deep scars that he hasn’t processed, and instead of talking about it, he shuts people out. He tends to carry the weight of responsibility on his own shoulders, believing that if something goes wrong, it’s his fault—even when it’s not. This can make him overprotective or unwilling to delegate, especially when working in dangerous environments. While his skepticism keeps him grounded, it also makes him slow to act in moments that require bold decisions. He can be overly cautious, sometimes doubting people’s motives before giving them a chance. His quiet intensity sometimes makes him hard to read, and his habit of keeping things to himself can create distance between him and those who want to work with him or help him. In short, Elias is strong, smart, and reliable—but emotionally closed off, haunted by the past, and still learning how to let others in. Children: Joshua Navarro, 5 years old |
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Darkseeker
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Name: Elena Snow Nicknames: Lenny, El, Snow White Age: 26 Occupation and Credentials: Archaeologist (BS in Anthropology with emphasis on Paleontology from NAU, PhD in American Indian Studies from U of A) Languages: English, German, Navajo, Anasazi/Puebloan petroglyphs (written) Appearance Will slap in a doodle Elena stands at a solid 5’9”, with a lean, athletic frame that comes less from gym work and more from climbing canyon walls, digging in hard desert earth, and hauling excavation gear. Her skin is deeply tanned from the Arizona sun, giving her a rugged, outdoorsy glow that pairs with features both striking and approachable: high cheekbones, a clean jawline, and dark eyes that look as though they’ve been trained to catch the smallest details. She’s not delicate, but there’s a natural prettiness in the strength of her face and the quiet confidence in how she carries herself. Her hair is light brown, thick, and naturally wavy (though she hates dealing with wavy hair and, if she is going to wear it down, she will straighten it). Its color has long been sun-bleached into streaks of warm gold that catch the light in the top layers, though the under layers that never see daylight remain a consistent color. Rarely styled in anything fancy, she typically ties it back to keep it out of her way, though when loose, it frames her face with an easy charm. Her eyes are dark brown, expressive and sharp, holding curiosity and calculation in equal measure. They give the sense of someone constantly observing, constantly thinking, and constantly ready to leap into the unknown -- for better or, more likely, for worse. Her skin is weathered in ways subtle but telling: faint freckles run across her nose and cheekbones from long summers in the desert, and a small scar across her right eyebrow serves as a perpetual reminder of an embarrassing dig accident when she was still an undergraduate student. Though her lifestyle leans toward the tomboyish -- muddy boots, dusty hands, unbothered by dirt under her nails -- she never lets her ruggedness cross into sloppiness. She can come across as professional when need be, and she dislikes her first impressions coming across as unkempt. Personality Elena is a deeply pragmatic woman. She isn’t swayed by theory without evidence, nor does she let emotion override logic in high-pressure situations. Her practical side comes from years of hands-on excavation: when equipment breaks, when storms roll in, when something doesn’t go to plan, she adapts without fuss. Elena is the type to improvise a solution with whatever is at hand, and while she won’t hesitate to get her hands dirty, she does so with a clear-eyed understanding of what needs to get done. To her, problems are puzzles, and puzzles are solvable. She is also notoriously stubborn. Once she latches onto an idea or a course of action, persuading her otherwise can be an uphill battle. This trait makes her formidable in debates and relentless in the pursuit of discovery, but it can also create friction with others who might prefer compromise. Her determination is both her strength and her flaw: she will stand her ground even when yielding might make her life easier. Yet beneath that iron will lies a woman who simply refuses to walk away from something important, whether it’s a dig site, a mystery, or a person in need. Elena’s adventurous streak runs deep. She craves the thrill of discovery, whether it’s squeezing into a half-collapsed ruin or hiking across blistering terrain to see what others might miss. She thrives on risk when it comes with reward, and her curiosity is boundless. She doesn’t just study artifacts; she wants to know the people behind them, the stories they left behind, and the truth buried beneath layers of dust. That curiosity sometimes leads her into danger, but it also fuels her creativity and problem-solving. Though pragmatic, she genuinely likes to get dirty. Mud, sweat, calloused hands -- none of it bothers her. In fact, she finds a strange satisfaction in it. To her, dirt is proof of work well done, a badge of authenticity. This attitude, coupled with her love for children and animals, reveals a softer side beneath her tough exterior. She has a childlike sense of wonder and excitement that makes it easy for her to connect with kids, though she tries to hide her eagerness around other adults, particularly older ones. Socially, Elena is charismatic without being outgoing. She doesn’t dominate conversations or demand attention, but people gravitate toward her quiet confidence and her way of listening intently. She has a knack for making people feel heard and respected, though she will still argue with them to the ends of the earth when she's convinced she's correct. When she does speak, it carries the weight of firmness rather than volume. Elena is adaptable. Her time in the field has taught her that nothing ever goes as planned, and those who cling too tightly to expectations are the ones who break. She’s not unshakable -- stress and uncertainty wear on her -- but she bends where others might snap. Her flexibility allows her to thrive in strange or dangerous environments, though it sometimes means she doesn’t always stop to acknowledge her own limits until she’s already stretched too thin. Strengths Riflery and handguns Wilderness survival skills and hardiness Pragmatism and charisma Fairly knowledgeable on medicines and things like suturing Working with kids and animals Weaknesses Overly independent and stubborn Completely out of her element in a jungle Not one to work well with a team she doesn't know Hand-to-hand combat Fatigue -- prone to overworking and burning out |
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Lightbringer
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The letter had been waiting for him when he returned from the university—neatly placed at the center of his desk, as if it had been delivered by something other than human hands. Elias Navarro had stood in the doorway of his study, staring at it in silence for several minutes, reluctant to approach. He hadn’t heard the mail carrier. No knock on the door. No footsteps. Just the soft creak of wood beneath his boots as he crossed the floor and picked it up. It was an envelope unlike any he’d ever received. Heavy, hand-folded parchment. The edges were uneven, as if cut with a blade rather than a machine. The seal was unbroken, stamped into deep red wax that bore an emblem both familiar and utterly foreign—a jaguar devouring the sun, encircled by something resembling a European coat of arms. The wax caught the light strangely. No smudge of ink or postmark. No name on the front. Elias turned it over again. Something about it stirred a memory—his first field study in Oaxaca, the heat pressing down on his skin like a blanket soaked in sweat, the scent of clay and lime and wild orchids. He had held a similar letter then, from Hector Ramos, inviting him to join a dig that would change the course of his life. This felt… similar. Too deliberate. Too personal. He broke the seal with a small knife. Inside, a single sheet of hand-written parchment. Neat cursive. Almost archaic in style. Whoever had written it had taken their time. . Dr. Navarro, I’ve followed your work for years. Your thesis on the symbolic geometry of the Templo Mayor was revelatory. The recent paper on Xochipilli’s iconography—impressive. You see patterns where others see decoration. That is why I’m writing to you. There is something I need you to find. Something buried. Something forgotten. It concerns the Aztecs, yes—but it goes deeper. Older. I believe it lies beneath the jungles near what was once Tenochtitlán. I will provide funding, protection, access—whatever is required. If you are interested, come to the address enclosed. August 15. 9:00 a.m. sharp. I’ll explain everything in person. Come alone. —R. Thorne . There was no business card. No phone number. Just the name—R. Thorne. Raymond Thorne. The name wasn’t unfamiliar. In academic circles, it had always been whispered more than spoken—an eccentric magnate, tech entrepreneur, occasional patron of obscure expeditions, and rumored buyer of artifacts that never made it into museums. A collector. A manipulator, perhaps. Exactly the kind of man Elias had avoided his entire career. And yet, here the letter was. He didn’t sleep that night. Not well, anyway. He sat at his desk, long after Joshua had gone to bed, rereading the letter while the lamp beside him buzzed with the occasional flicker. His fingers toyed with the obsidian pendant at his neck, the cool stone etched with the glyph of Tezcatlipoca. It had once belonged to Hector. His mentor. His friend. Hector had died in the Guatemalan highlands. Disappeared, really. Swallowed by the jungle during a dig gone wrong, though no one had ever truly explained what had gone wrong. The funding had dried up, the records had been sealed, and the official story never sat right with Elias. After that, he'd promised himself he would never chase shadows. Never follow mystery for mystery’s sake. And yet… Something in the letter felt different. . New York, August 15. The Thorne estate was nothing like Elias expected—and everything he feared. The car that picked him up from the airport was unmarked, spotless, and operated by a driver who spoke only when necessary. The ride took nearly an hour, winding out of the city and into the quiet hush of upstate greenery. Trees lined the road like sentinels, tall and watchful. And then, beyond a set of wrought iron gates, the estate revealed itself. A modernist fortress, draped in ivy, constructed from concrete and steel. Brutalist architecture softened by nature’s patience. The place looked like it had been designed by someone who admired ancient fortresses more than houses—somewhere to keep things in as much as out. Elias stepped out of the car and adjusted the strap of his satchel. The air was cool. Still. The silence here was unnatural. Inside, the halls were lined with relics. He saw a Zapotec urn behind glass. An Olmec jade figurine resting on a stone pedestal. And—unmistakably—an authentic Mixtec codex, splayed open beneath protective UV-filtering lights. Real pieces. Stolen, no doubt, from the places they belonged. The sight made his jaw tighten. He was led to a room near the back of the house. A library, though not in the conventional sense. This was not a place of quiet reading. It was almost as if it were a vault. At the far end of the room stood a man. Raymond Thorne. . He was tall, lean, dressed in a dark suit that looked tailored but not flashy. His eyes were sharp and gray, like winter sky before lightning. He gave Elias a slow nod, as though they were already familiar. "Dr. Navarro,” he said, voice calm and unhurried. “Thank you for coming.” Elias said nothing at first. His eyes were moving across the room—across shelves of untranslated codices, replicas of temple stelae, and—there, in the center—an ancient scroll sealed inside a glass case. “I don’t take private commissions,” he said quietly. “If that’s what this is.” Thorne offered the ghost of a smile. “It’s not a commission, Dr. Navarro. It’s an invitation.” He gestured to the table between them. On it lay a folder—leather-bound, its edges frayed with age. A scent of dust and oil rose from it as Thorne opened the cover and turned the first page. Elias leaned forward. His heart beat once—heavy. The glyph was unmistakable: Tecuani-Tonal. The jaguar of the sun. War-bringer. Gatekeeper to the underworld. Thorne watched him carefully. “I take it you recognize the symbol.” “I’ve seen it once,” Elias said, his voice lower now. “In an underground temple south of Texcoco. The inscription was incomplete." “This one isn’t.” Thorne quickly replied. Elias hesitated, then reached for the next page. What he saw wasn’t a map—at least not in the traditional sense. It was a layering of glyphs, scattered across the rough outline of a valley. There were indicators—ritual sites, sacrificial altars, references to something called Ixtecayotl, the Forgotten Road. He felt the weight of the pendant at his chest. His fingers brushed it instinctively. “I believe there is a chamber beneath the valley,” Thorne said. “A place the Aztecs used to store relics—maybe even treasure—evacuated during the siege of Tenochtitlán. The Spanish never found it. No one has.” “Because it was never meant to be found,” Elias replied, eyes still scanning the page. A silence passed. "Is it gold you’re after, Thorne?” The man gave a small laugh. “I have more money than I know what to do with. What I want is… confirmation. Proof. A lost thread of history.” Elias looked up. “And you expect me to follow it.” “I expect you to lead,” Thorne said, folding his hands. “This expedition—if you accept it—will be yours to direct. Your pace. Your rules. I’ll provide everything else.” He should have walked away. Should have told Thorne he wasn’t for sale. But the glyphs on the page—the road leading beyond memory—the feeling deep in his chest that something old was pulling him toward it— Elias closed the folder. “My son stays behind,” he said. “Protected. Watched. Nothing happens to him.” Thorne nodded. “Already arranged.” "And I work alone." Elias said, flashing back to the dig where Hector had died. He didn't want to have a chance to repeat that again. Thorne didn't answer but gave a small nod. Elias didn’t believe in destiny. But sometimes history whispered. And right now, it was screaming. |
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Darkseeker
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Elena stood with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed as she studied the stone slab before her. The Wupatki ruins had long been a tourist destination in Northern Arizona, and they had remained relatively undisturbed when it came to things such as archaeological digs -- something that Elena was now participating in herself. Her current situation had started when a visitor to the park had gone off one of the hiking trails to look for arrowheads, as many tourists tended to do. Far from the visitor center and the main, massive collection of ruins, the young man had fallen through the earth and unwittingly revealed a hidden chamber unlike anything else discovered on the site. Authorities and museum curators alike had swarmed immediately, and in the end, the university's team had been allowed to investigate this odd appearance. It had started with some simpler finds: a pit with the mummified remains of half-domesticated turkeys had given way to a hidden wall holding several pots of jewelry and gold that were well in line with the current understanding that Wupatki had been one of many stops along a trade route from North to South America. However, the simplicity of the dig had ended there. After the chamber had been excavated, a final room had been opened to reveal a sarcophagus carved straight from one massive stone, seemingly on site. The intricate carvings on top looked Mayan in nature (or at least, they did to Elena, who was by no means an expert in differentiating between the ancient Mesoamerican art styles), and inside lay the remains of a jaguar. Now, jaguars had been known to frequent Tucson on occasion, and ancient Pueblo peoples would have had the means of obtaining one, but- "Why?" she muttered to herself. Her fingers grazed the newly pulled out sarcophagus lid as her eyes tried to make sense of the pictures in front of her. Elena's gaze shifted to the rickety wooden table beside her. A solid gold cylinder winked back at her, the desert sun catching its runes almost tauntingly. Elena was broken out of her concentration when an intern shuffled up beside her, dust still clinging to his knees from whatever trench he had been crawling out of. He held out an envelope in one hand and a folded receipt in the other, his expression somewhere between awe and unease. “From one of the funders,” he explained, his voice careful, as though afraid of disturbing the silence. She wiped her fingers clean on the hem of her work cloth before taking the papers. The receipt was straightforward -- confirmation of payment for the golden cylinder recently unearthed, its ownership already shifting into the hands of men who viewed history as an investment portfolio. But the letter caught her attention with its thick parchment, the sharp lettering pressed into the page, and the signature at the bottom written with a flourish -- Raymond Thorne. Elena frowned, her brow furrowing as she scanned the words. Thorne was not a stranger to her by reputation, a man known for funneling money into expeditions and collecting whatever relics trickled back. Still, the phrasing of his letter was odd, suggestive rather than direct, and carried an undertone of expectation she didn’t entirely like. Dr. Snow, I am entrusting my newly acquired artifact to you, until we meet face-to-face to discuss the adventure of a lifetime. Her eyes switched back to the receipt, now paying closer attention. Indeed, it was Mr. Thorne's name typed on the form; he had bought the jaguar cylinder. She folded the papers neatly, slipping them into her satchel. Apparently, she had a plane to catch. -- The air inside Raymond Thorne’s study was heavy, but it smelled rather pleasantly like a well-curated museum. His mansion was the sort of place frozen in time: oil paintings stared down with dour faces, shelves bowed under the weight of leather-bound tomes, and cabinets glittered faintly with glass-fronted displays of artifacts spanning continents. Elena sat across from him, her hands resting loosely on the carved arms of a chair that was too ornate for comfort. Raymond Thorne himself was sharp despite his years. His hair was neatly combed back, his dark suit crisp, though it was his eyes that held her attention: bright, calculating, gleaming with the restless hunger of a man still chasing something. “You’ve seen enough to know,” he said, his voice carrying the rasp of age but no lack of conviction. “The discovery at Wupatki is not an isolated event. That jaguar sarcophagus, the gold cylinder, even the trade artifacts -- they are not just evidence of exchange.” Elena tilted her head, skepticism flickering in her dark eyes. “You think the Puebloans had direct ties to a Mesoamerican civilization? One in which they interacted with each other directly, spanning hundreds of miles.” “I don’t think,” he corrected softly. “I know. And if I am right, then we are standing at the threshold of one of the greatest discoveries in modern archaeology! South America, Dr. Snow. That is where the next piece lies.” Her curiosity stirred, tightening its grip on her skepticism. She leaned forward slightly, arms still folded but less guarded now. “And you want me to go.” Raymond’s smile was thin, precise. “I want you to lead. You will not be alone. A colleague will accompany you -- very capable, very experienced. A doctor well-versed in Mesoamerican studies. You will make a fine team.” The promise of connection between Wupatki and a hidden civilization burned at the edges of her thoughts, sparking excitement she couldn’t quite smother. She exhaled through her nose, then nodded. “I’ll go.” -- The bus wheezed away in a cloud of dust, leaving Elena standing at the edge of a rural village that seemed to cling to the jungle’s hemline. The air here was thicker, heavy with humidity that clung to her skin and hair in ways the desert never had. Clay-colored houses stood against the dense wall of green, and chickens scattered across the dirt road as locals moved between stalls and doorways, their voices carrying a rhythm both foreign and familiar. Elena adjusted her satchel on her shoulder, her boots sinking slightly in the damp soil as she scanned the narrow street. She wasn’t sure what sort of man Thorne’s “experienced doctor” would be; too many in her field wore arrogance like a badge. Still, the thought of meeting a stranger who might hold the missing piece of this puzzle stirred a restless anticipation in her chest. Her eyes moved steadily from face to face, searching for someone who looked out of place enough to be her partner. Nothing. This was the right place, wasn't it? She shrugged one shoulder and walked forward, nearly breathing a sigh of relief as she spotted a pile of crates marked with Raymond Thorne's odd crest. She set her backpack down beside them, stretched, and cracked her knuckles. Time to hunt down a partner. |
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Lightbringer
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Elias slipped the obsidian necklace down his shirt once more as he got off the plane a few miles from Chapel Hill North Carolina. He only worked in digs with the university, his Alma mater, but this was where he and Joshua lived. Thorne's men would meet him here at 5pm, and while he was skeptical that they would treat him well, he had to trust them. Before Elias had left Thorne's building, he had told him of his paycheck. One million dollars. Elias had never seen that much money in his life, and that quickly led to a decision. This could bring a whole new life for him and Joshua, and his son's future would look very bright. Before they had arrived, Elias was sitting with his son at the table, while Joshua scribbled on paper with his crayons. Currently he was drawing a cat like animal with blue crayon, the color bleeding onto his small fingers, his movements unsteady on the paper. But Joshua smiled as he was doing it, and Elias couldn't help but smile too. "Hey Dad? Can you guess what it is?" He said, beginning to draw small uneven circles inside the makeshift body, coloring them in as he did so. He paused for a moment and met Elias' eyes. His green eyes giving Elias a curious look. "Hmmm he said, tracing his hand over the blue crayon body. "I don't know, it looks like some sort of cat, but it doesn't have any legs." Joshua seemed to look at his paper with a confused look. Then quickly beamed. "Oh" He said with a small chuckle. "I forgot." He quickly put the blue crayon back to the paper and drew 4 small lines, at the end which had a medium sized circle with four lines coming for each, and then added a small line at the end, making a tail. "Hmmm" Elias said with a smile. "I think it looks like a jaguar." Elias met his son's eyes again, which beamed. "I knew you'd guess it. Doesn't it look just like your necklace?" Elias pulled the obsidian pendant from out of his shirt, and put it into Joshua's small hands. "Yep. I think it looks better than this one." Elias said with a smile. Then, there was a small knock at the door. "Wait here." Elias said, and ruffled his son's dark brown hair, and went to go and answer the door. When he opened it, and after that small creak followed, he saw two people. A woman, who looked in their late 30s, with long blond hair, green eyes, and didn't look a hair over 5'2 stood next to a slightly taller man with a darker skin tone, black hair, and olive eyes. They bith looked around the same age, and bith had smiles on their faces. "I would bet you're Elias Navarro." The man said, his face beaming. "I'm Stephan and this is Sophia. We are here to pick up Joshua." Elias was just about to speak when he felt a tiny pressure wrap around his legs. Joshua was wrapped around Elias's left knee, and peered nervously towards the two strangers. "I would bet you are Joshua." Sophia said, squatting to meet Joshua at his height. "I'm Sophia and this is Stephan." She said, pointing to Stephan with her thumb, "and we are going to watch you for a few weeks." Joshua seemed frightened until Elias spoke. "Don't worry, you are going to be safe with them. And guess what?" He said, squatting down to Joshua's level. "Mr. Thorne said he would give you a private tour of the Smithsonian." Elias said with a smile. Joshua still looked confused. "And there will be large dinosaurs there." Joshua's eyes immediately gleamed. "Dinosaurs?" He said, his face forming a small and shy smile. Joshua had been obsessed with dinosaurs in the last few months. The young boy could say Parasaurolophus with ease but struggled with pronouncing his spelling words for the week. "Yep." Elias said. "But I won't be with you, I have another dig to attend to, and this one is going to be longer than the others. But don't worry, these guys are going to take care of you." Joshua seemed reluctant at first, but when Stephan mentioned taking him to other museums to see dinosaurs, the kid was hooked. "Now I've got all your stuff packed, and I'll be right back out in a moment. You introduce yourself to Ms. Sophia and Mr Stephan while I'm inside." Elias turned and went upstairs to Joshua's room, h. 5where four small suitcases were stacked near the door. He picked them up and carried them outside and loaded them into Thorne's workers cars. Then Elias walked back up the small concrete steps to Joshua. The young boy looked ready to go, but when Elias walked back up, what was really happening hit him. Elias wouldn't have service where he was heading, and unlike all the other digs, he literally wouldn't see Joshua until this all was over. Tears began streaming down Joshua's cheeks ad Elias kneeled down. Joshua barreled onto him, and Elias embraced him in a giant hug. "Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it." Joshua looked up, then suddenly ran back inside, coming out a moment later with the blue jaguar he had colored earlier. "I want you." He paused, breathing in with slow labored breaths, "to take this with you." Elias took the drawing from his small hands and replied: "I know the perfect place to put it. I'll put it kn my satchel next to all your other drawings and pictures." Joshua smiled, and released the embrace. "I love you dad." He said, as Sophia led him to the car. He jumped into the Grey 4runner and rolled the window down to see his dad, who had walked up to the window before. "I love you to son." He said, leaning in and giving his son a kiss on the head, before ruffling his hair like he always did. He stepped back and with a wave, watched as the 4runner backed out of his drive way, and didn't stop waving until he could no longer see the red taillights in the distance, decsneding down the street. . Elias had already packed his bags, which wasn't alot. He packed 10 shirts, all a varying shade of khaki, and packed another 10 pairs of either dark brown or dark olive green pants. He stashed his work/travel boots, and all his digging and examine kits, along with a long rope in his other large suitcase. After putting Joshua's latest drawing in his brown leather satchel, he swung it across his back and carried his cargo across to the Uber he had scheduled to pick him up at 5:45. He locked up his house, took one last long look, and climbed into the Uber. Destiny awaiting. . As the Uber pulled into the airport, Elias boarded his flight to Mexico City, with a small layover in Richmond and Fort Worth, they finally arrived. Elias had luckily slept on the plane, but was still tired when they landed. With a yawn he deboarded, and retrieved his luggage. A man with a dark brown suit, and tie walked up to meet him. "Dr. Navarro I presume? " when Elias nodded, he handed him another airplane ticket and began to walk with him towards the presumed gate. A lot of people flooded the airport, but Elias could still spot the large crates stamped with Thorne's personal logo. He wore was dark brown pants with a black belt and a white polo. He looked heavily overdressed, but not as much as John, the man who walked with him, was. They clay houses surrounded the small makeshift airport, but Elias felt right in his element. The hot sun made him start to sweat a small bit, but of course he wasn't in his preferred attire. His satchel still slung beside him, they approached the wall of crates. And that's when he first saw the woman. She was leaned back against the crates, scanning the crowd looking for someone, her eyes had locked on him and John for a small while as they approached. She seemed to be waiting for them. Elias turned to John, "Who is this? I'm guessing she is leading us to the site?" The woman looked like she was in her mid maybe late twenties, with light wavy brown hair, and dark eyes. She was taller than most woman, with an athletic frame which looked like she worked in the outdoors. That's when John looked at him, and with a slightly confused look said, "No, this is your partner, Dr. Elena Snow." |
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Darkseeker
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Elena noticed the confusion immediately. It was written plainly across the man’s face as he approached, his stride steady but his brow furrowed, his eyes flicking from her to the suited escort at his side as though seeking an explanation. She caught the brief, halting moment when his companion -- John? -- leaned in, muttered something low, and watched comprehension settle across his expression like a weight he hadn’t been prepared to carry. Uh oh. So Thorne hadn’t told him. Elena pushed off the stack of crates, brushing her palms together as she closed the distance. She extended a hand, her movements professional but not overly formal. “I'm Elena,” she said simply, giving him the courtesy of her first name only. The warmth of her voice tempered the bluntness of her introduction, though her dark eyes studied him carefully, curious at what sort of man she’d just been paired with. Up close, he looked exactly like the kind of academic she had imagined Thorne would throw at this sort of venture -- sharp and serious, definitely an academic -- but she could also see that he wasn't a couch potato, and his attire suggested he knew how to dress for the weather, so to speak. “You weren’t made aware I’d be here, were you?” she asked, her tone even but cautious, reading the tension in the way he shifted his weight. It wasn’t accusatory -- not toward him, at least. She could almost hear Thorne’s gravelly voice, smug and self-satisfied, behind the scene. The old man probably thought himself clever, weaving his “mystery” into the expedition by springing her on Elias at the very last moment. A wicked grin, no doubt, had tugged at his lips when he signed off on the travel orders. How much else has he withheld? she wondered. Thorne played his games with money and secrets -- two currencies he knew better than most, in her mildly judgy opinion -- and both Elias and herself were apparently just pawns to be shifted across his board. But if there was one thing Elena Snow didn’t like, it was being underestimated. She let her hand fall once the introduction had been made, and her expression softened, as though smoothing over the rough edges of their meeting. “I'm sorry, but what's your name?” she prompted, tilting her head just slightly. "This is Dr. Elias Nevarro, a doctor of Aztec Historical Studies and a seasoned fieldsman," the man beside him blurted, as though trying to quench a fire that Elena wasn't aware had started. What was up with this guy? Elena pursed her lips at John's interjection and nodded politely, filing the name away with the small but potentially important details she’d already picked up about its carrier: his guarded wariness, the way he carried himself like a man accustomed to responsibility, and the faint shadows in his eyes that spoke of something heavier than just a dig. She got the distinct impression that he did not want a partner. “I should make it clear,” she added, shifting her weight and reaching behind her to tug open the flap of her worn leather backpack, “I’m only here to help with the Pueblo language piece. The rest,” her lips quirked into something between a smirk and a grimace, “Mr. Thorne seems to have reserved for surprises.” She slid something carefully from the pack and held it out toward him, cradled in both hands. The sunlight caught on the surface of the cylinder and sent fractured gleams flashing across her face, its Puebloan runes etched deep and dark against the shine. “Here,” Elena said, offering it to him to inspect. She had already decided on one thing: Elias Navarro was not the type to appreciate being blindsided, which made them two of a kind in this particular mess. She studied the way he looked at the cylinder. To most, it would have been nothing more than a relic, a gleaming artifact of wealth and status. But to academics, to those who lived and breathed the histories buried beneath centuries of dust, it was something else entirely. His reaction would tell her which camp he fell into -- the treasure hunters, or the truth seekers. Her arms crossed loosely. “So,” she said at last, “I suppose this is where we start working together, or waste time resenting Thorne for throwing us into the same fire.” She paused, one corner of her mouth lifting in the faintest, wryest smile. “Personally, I’d rather get dirty.” She had always been pragmatic, never one to sugarcoat a situation or entertain useless conflict. But she was stubborn too, and she wasn’t about to let herself be treated as some secondary player in Thorne’s grand scheme. She would be useful, she would be necessary, and if Elias Navarro thought otherwise, well… then they’d find themselves butting heads before they found any treasure. At the same time, the curiosity in her burned bright. The connection between the Pueblo artifacts and something so far south as Mesoameria gnawed at her, whispering tantalizing promises of a story older and larger than anyone had yet realized. And here, standing in front of her, was the man who might just hold the other half of the key. Jaguars, gold, hundreds of miles between two connected civilizations -- all threads woven together in a pattern she couldn’t yet see. Her fingers itched for the puzzle, her mind hungry for the challenge. Still, her eyes flicked back once more to Elias. He was the variable she couldn’t yet solve for, and she wasn't the biggest fan of figuring people out. |
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Lightbringer
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The confusion hit first. Not the kind that startled — but the slower, heavier kind. The kind that set its teeth behind your eyes and made you glance around for something you weren’t told to expect. The man walking beside Elias — John — gave him that look. The kind you give a bomb technician when you’ve just realized no one taught him how to defuse what you’re standing on. Elias caught it in his periphery. Then came the name. “Elena.” Just that. Not Dr. Snow. Not Professor anything. No formalities, no resume in her tone. She offered her hand like it was a simple thing. Like this wasn’t already starting to unravel. He didn’t take it. Not immediately. His eyes dropped to it, then back up to her. He wasn’t trying to be rude. He was assessing the lay of the land. It was instinctual — the same way he’d once read a crumbling temple wall for structural stress. Or judged a jungle trail for animal tracks and guerrilla interference. She looked younger than he’d expected, but not green. She stood with the weight of someone who knew what she was doing, and wore it like a well-worn pack. Dark eyes, unreadable. And that voice — calm, deliberate, but not submissive. She didn’t need his approval, and that, at least, he could respect. Still. She was unexpected. Which meant someone was playing games. “You weren’t made aware I’d be here, were you?” No apology. Just acknowledgment. His kind of language. Elias finally reached out and shook her hand — brief, firm, then released. No reason to pretend this was anything other than what it was: a test, sprung without warning. “Doctor Elias Navarro,” he said. His voice was low, steady, that smooth Southern drawl coating every syllable like dark syrup. “And no. I wasn’t.” He turned slightly, just enough to glare sideways at John, who promptly tried to extinguish the growing tension. “This is Dr. Elias Navarro, a doctor of Aztec Historical Studies and a seasoned fieldsman—” Elias shot him a look that made the rest of the words die in the man’s throat. He turned back to Elena. Didn’t explain himself. Instead, he glanced at what she carried. A small, cylindrical object — gleaming faintly in the desert light. He knew what it was before he ever touched it. Not by name — but by instinct. It was wrong. Not fake — not at all — but anomalous. He saw the Puebloan etchings immediately, but there was something deeper, older carved beneath. She offered it like it weighed more than it should. Not physically — metaphorically. Like she knew what it could do. He took it, careful not to touch her hands. It was cool to the touch. Smooth. But not newly carved. The grooves had the micro-pitting of windwear and time. He turned it slowly in his hands, his fingers brushing lightly across the foreign glyph. He recognized it. Not exactly — but adjacent. A glyph he’d sketched once. Sketched deep in the Oaxacan highlands. His thumb moved across the carved symbol again, and he felt it — that rising tension in his spine. Not fear. Not even surprise. Validation. Thorne had known. He’d known. “I’m only here to help with the Pueblo language piece,” Elena said, voice even. “The rest, Mr. Thorne seems to have reserved for surprises.” Navarro didn’t respond immediately. He just kept staring at the cylinder. He looked the part of a scholar — light shirt, sleeves rolled, sunburnt forearms, calloused hands, half-day-old stubble on his jaw. A mess of dark brown hair, always windblown. But what you didn’t see until you got closer — what Elena would see now — was that he wasn’t soft. Years in the field had carved the softness out of him. Six-foot-one, lean but hardened. Built not from weights or gym routines, but from jungle trails, collapsed tunnels, and cliffside climbs with fifty pounds of gear strapped to his back. Around his neck hung a black obsidian pendant, etched with a single Aztec glyph. It caught the sunlight now, gleaming dark and strange. He touched it absently with one hand as he turned the artifact over with the other. It wasn’t just habit. It was memory. Dr. Hector Ramos had given it to him — his mentor, the man who taught him how to read Nahuatl like a second language. Who had died as an old temple, one that he had said had been safe, collapsed on top of him. Elias had barely made it out alive. He never talked about it. Not even to the people who deserved to know. Elias let the artifact settle in his palm one last time. Then, with the same quiet deliberation, he handed it back to her. “This symbol,” he said finally, tapping the serpent curve with one finger, “isn’t from here.” His voice was flat. Controlled. But something flickered in his eyes — not anger, not yet — but depth. Weight. “This came from Mesoamerica. Not the northern deserts.” He didn’t accuse her of lying. Didn’t ask how she got it. He knew better. You didn’t interrogate someone who just showed you the tip of a spear. You waited to see how deep the shaft went. “I’ve seen this glyph before,” he added. “On a dig in the Guatemalan highlands. The same expedition Thorne cut short before we could finish cataloging the findings.” A pause. Quiet. “I don’t like coincidences.” His hand returned to the obsidian pendant again, briefly — a tic he only allowed himself when things felt off. Then his arms crossed. He studied her again. The way she held herself. How she hadn’t backed down or looked away once since they met. That told him something important. She wasn’t just here to observe. And if she was, Thorne had sent her with teeth. “So,” he said, his voice almost too calm now. “Here we are. A cylinder with incompatible cultural etchings. A surprise teammate with linguistic credentials. And a manipulative bastard funding the entire thing who hasn’t told either of us the full story.” He glanced toward the canyon, sun lowering in the distance. “Looks like Thorne wants us to find something. And he wants to see how we behave in the dark.” Finally, he looked back to her. Eyes sharper now. Focused. “I’m not here for gold. And I’m not here to entertain Thorne’s games.” A beat. “But if this thing is real — if there’s really a cultural crossover between the Pueblo and Mesoamerica…” He trailed off. Not for effect. Just because his mind was already halfway down the path, excavating theories faster than he could speak them. His voice dropped. “…Then we’re standing on something big. Bigger than either of us.” He stepped back, adjusting the strap on his pack, boots crunching in the dry earth. “I don’t need a partner,” he said simply. Because beneath the stone, beneath the politics, beneath the wounds he never showed — there was still something burning inside him. Not hope. Not anymore. But truth. And he would chase it, even into fire. But as he met her eyes again, his mouth creased into a small, yet strong smirk. His eyebrows rising just a bit. He didn't like what Thorne had done, but it wouldn't be fair to place the blame on her. "But let's get dirty." |
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Summer Month: 1 
Night 
Brimstone Moon: 
