Chapter 10: The Forgotten Path
Jackson sat at the edge of a cliff, his feet dangling over the drop, watching the sunset paint the sky in hues of orange and crimson. The world below seemed so small—so insignificant. The busy city lights in the distance barely registered in his mind anymore.
A year ago, Jackson had everything. He had been a renowned archaeologist, recognized worldwide for his groundbreaking discoveries. He had fame, fortune, and a team that believed in his vision of finding the ancient city that had been lost to time. A city whose riches were said to rival any in history. But all that was in the past now. The expedition had ended in disaster. People had died. His credibility had been shredded. The project was shut down, and Jackson was left with nothing but the haunting memories of the past.
But he didn't give up. No, Jackson was too determined to let go of his life's work. He spent months retracing his steps, following forgotten paths, trying to piece together fragments of old maps and ancient legends. He convinced himself that if he could find the city, prove the existence of the treasures hidden deep in the jungle, everything would be forgiven. Fame would return. His reputation would be restored.
And so, there he was, on the edge of the world, preparing to embark on one last journey.
His old partner, Clara, had warned him not to go. "You've already lost everything," she said. "Some things aren't meant to be found." But Jackson's obsession had clouded his judgment. He didn't care about the consequences anymore. This was his last chance to prove to the world—and himself—that he was still capable of greatness.
With a deep breath, Jackson stood up and glanced at the map in his hands. It was old, fragile, and weathered with time. His fingers traced the route, the path leading deeper into the jungle, far from civilization. The journey was treacherous, filled with unknown dangers, but he didn't care. The thought of finding the lost city was all that consumed him.
For days, he hiked through the dense, unforgiving jungle. The air was thick with humidity, the heat unbearable, but he pushed forward, his resolve stronger than ever. His body ached, his feet were blistered, and his mind started to unravel with exhaustion, but he kept going. The dream of discovery, the thrill of success, burned in his chest.
As he neared his destination, Jackson felt a strange sense of unease. The jungle seemed quieter here, almost unnatural. The birds had stopped singing, and the wind didn't blow as it had before. The path ahead was unclear, tangled with vines and hidden dangers. But he pressed on, knowing he couldn't turn back now.
The trees parted, revealing a vast, ancient structure—ruins, half-buried in the earth. Jackson's heart raced. This was it. He had found it. The city. The lost civilization.
But something was wrong. As he stepped closer, the weight of history seemed to press down on him, suffocating him. The air was thick with a sense of foreboding, and Jackson's excitement quickly turned to fear. His feet moved slower now, his breath shallow.
Then he heard it. A whisper. A voice from the past, soft and almost imperceptible.
"Turn back."
Jackson froze. His body stiffened. He had heard that voice before, in dreams, in his mind's eye, but now it was real. He turned in a slow circle, searching for the source, but there was no one. Nothing. Just the ruins.
"Who's there?" he called, his voice shaking.
No answer.
He tried to shake off the unease, dismissing it as fatigue or paranoia, but the feeling lingered. His instincts, honed over years of exploration, told him that this wasn't just a discovery—it was a trap. A warning that had been passed down through generations. A warning for anyone who dared to disturb the ruins.
But it was too late.
Jackson stepped forward again, his hand reaching for a carved stone that seemed out of place in the structure. As his fingers brushed the surface, a low rumble shook the ground beneath him. The earth trembled, and the ruins seemed to groan in protest. The walls cracked, and dust began to fall from the ceiling.
The ground gave way beneath his feet, and before he could react, he was falling. The world spun around him as he tumbled into darkness, the sound of his body crashing against stone echoing in the void.
When Jackson came to, he was lying on cold, hard stone, his body battered and bruised. His vision was blurry, and his head throbbed with pain. He slowly pushed himself up, but the sight before him took his breath away.
The city was not what he had imagined. The treasures, the riches—they were not here. Instead, what lay before him was a dark, empty void. The ancient city, the legend—it was nothing more than a graveyard. The wealth of the civilization was lost long ago, taken by time, destroyed by the same forces that had abandoned it. The only thing that remained was the curse.
Jackson had come for glory. For redemption. But now, in the face of his own failure, he realized the truth. Some things were meant to be forgotten, never to be uncovered again. And now, he was part of the legend. A forgotten soul in a city long past its prime.
He tried to move, to escape, but his body betrayed him. He was weak. Exhausted. His vision blurred again as he collapsed, the weight of his choices crashing down upon him. He had come in search of greatness, but what he had found was the end of a story. His story.
And then, in the silence, the whisper came again.
"You shouldn't have come."
"Ah, the price of obsession. The lengths one will go to in order to claim something that was never meant to be. Some paths lead to greatness, yes—but others, well, they only lead to the end. And Jackson? He found that out the hard way. Fate doesn't care for ambition."
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