Chapter 1 – Fallen and Found (v1)

The Awakening

Kate’s POV

The Romanian sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ancient ruins. The air was warm, heavy with the scent of wet leaves and earth, and the distant chirping of crickets had begun to replace the chatter of the dig team as we wound down for the evening. I wiped the sweat from my brow, smudging dirt across my face. Archaeology wasn’t glamorous, but I loved every minute of it—the thrill of discovery, the whispers of history hidden beneath layers of earth.

I crouched down, carefully brushing away soil from a delicate artifact, a fragment of pottery with intricate patterns. The site was an old Dacian settlement, and every piece we unearthed felt like another piece of a vast, ancient puzzle.

The dig team, a mix of local Romanian students and seasoned archaeologists from around the world, bustled around, cataloging finds and packing up for the night. The soft hum of conversations in various languages blended with the rustling leaves and the occasional hoot of an owl. I felt a deep sense of satisfaction and belonging here, among these ruins that whispered secrets of the past.

“Kate, over here! You need to see this!” Dan, one of the local students, called out. His voice was urgent, filled with the kind of excitement that only came from a significant find. I straightened up, my muscles protesting after hours of crouching, and hurried over to where he was kneeling.

Dan was a few years younger than me, with dark curly hair and an infectious enthusiasm for archaeology. As I approached, he looked up, his face flushed with excitement. “I think I found something important,” he said, gesturing to a partially unearthed stone tablet.

I knelt beside him, examining the faint carvings on the stone. “It looks like some kind of inscription,” I murmured, tracing the lines with my gloved fingers. “We’ll need to clean it up to see the details, but this could be a major find.”

Dan beamed, his excitement palpable. “It’s incredible, isn’t it? To think that people stood here centuries ago, carving these symbols with such precision and care. It really makes you wonder about their daily lives and what these symbols meant to them.”

I nodded, sharing his awe. “Absolutely. Each artifact is like a piece of a giant puzzle. If we can just piece it together, we might uncover a whole new chapter of history.”

The dig site itself was a marvel. Set in the heart of Transylvania, it was surrounded by dense forests that seemed to hold their own secrets. The ruins we were uncovering hinted at a complex society, one that had thrived long before the Roman conquest. Each day brought new discoveries—fragments of pottery, tools, even the remains of ancient dwellings.

Among the team, there was Dr. Cristian Petrescu, our lead archaeologist. A grizzled man in his late fifties, with a keen eye for detail and an encyclopedic knowledge of Dacian history. He was a mentor to us all, guiding our efforts with a mixture of patience and sternness.

Then there was Elena, a fellow archaeologist and one of my closest friends on the team. Her dark brown curls were always tied back in a messy bun, and she had a laugh that could lighten even the most tedious of tasks. We often spent our evenings together, discussing the day’s finds and speculating about the lives of the ancient people who had once inhabited this land.

As the sun dipped lower, casting a golden hue over the site, the team began to pack up for the night. The air cooled, and the sounds of the forest grew louder, filling the silence left by our ceasing work. I took a moment to appreciate the tranquility, feeling a deep connection to the land and its history.

We gathered around the campfire, the warmth of the flames a welcome contrast to the chilly evening air. Conversations buzzed around me, a mix of Romanian, English, and other languages. Laughter echoed as someone told a joke, and the smell of cooking meat mingled with the scent of pine.

I found a spot next to Elena, who was roasting marshmallows over the fire. “Today was incredible,” I said, accepting a marshmallow she handed me.

“Absolutely,” she agreed. “That tablet could be the key to understanding more about the Dacians’ beliefs and daily life.”

We chatted about our theories, losing ourselves in the world of ancient history. Around us, the rest of the team shared stories and laughed, the camaraderie palpable. It was in these moments that I felt most at home, surrounded by people who shared my passion and curiosity.

As the fire burned down to embers, I excused myself and headed to my tent. The night was clear, the sky dotted with stars that seemed to shine brighter in the absence of city lights. I zipped up the tent flap and settled into my sleeping bag, my mind buzzing with the day’s discoveries.

Despite my exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easily. My thoughts kept drifting back to the stone tablet we had found earlier. The symbols on it were unlike anything I had seen before, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that they held some deeper significance. What if this was a key piece of the puzzle, something that could unlock new understanding about the Dacians?

I lay awake for hours, turning over the possibilities in my mind. Eventually, I drifted off, my dreams filled with visions of ancient symbols and glowing eyes. I woke several times during the night, the feeling of being watched lingering even after I assured myself it was just my imagination.

The next morning, the camp was already bustling with activity when I emerged from my tent. The air was crisp and cool, and the smell of coffee wafted through the air. I grabbed a mug and joined Elena and Dan at the breakfast table, where they were discussing the day’s plans.

“I want to focus on that area we were working on yesterday,” Dr. Petrescu announced as he joined us. “There’s something significant there, I can feel it.”

We nodded in agreement, eager to continue our work. As we returned to the trench, I tried to push the strange incident from my mind, focusing instead on the task at hand.

The day passed quickly, filled with the usual routine of digging, brushing, and cataloging. By late afternoon, we had made significant progress, unearthing several new artifacts that hinted at the site’s importance.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the dig site, I found myself alone in one of the deeper trenches. I was carefully brushing dirt from what appeared to be a small clay figure when I heard a shout from a nearby trench.

“Morții mă-tii!”

I dropped my tools and sprinted over to where Dan was kneeling. He was clutching his hand, blood seeping through his fingers from a deep gash. He must have cut himself on a shard of pottery or a jagged rock.

“Let me see,” I said, crouching beside him. He reluctantly opened his hand, revealing a nasty-looking wound.

I quickly rummaged through my bag for the first aid kit. “Hold on, Dan. I’ve got some bandages here,” I said while unwrapping the bandages. Dan winced, his brow furrowing slightly from the sting of the cut.

“Thanks, Kate. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said, attempting to smile through the discomfort. I wrapped the bandage around his hand, but the bleeding was too severe. The wound was deep, and I could see the pain etched on Dan’s face.

A sudden rush of warmth surged through me, like a current of electricity flowing through my veins. My hands tingled, and a strange but familiar sense of calm washed over me. Dan’s wound was deep, the blood flowing freely, but as I pressed my hands against it, I felt a pull, like something inside me was reaching out.

The warm, tingling sensation spread through my fingers and into Dan’s hand. I watched, wide-eyed, as the wound began to knit itself back together, the blood stopping and the skin mending until there was no sign of the injury except a pale, thin line that looked like an old scar.

“What the…?” Dan muttered, staring at his healed hand. He looked at me, confusion and disbelief etched on his face. But then, almost as quickly as the astonishment appeared, it faded. “I guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Must have just been a trick of the light.”

I blinked, pulling my hands back and looking around. The rest of the team seemed oblivious, too absorbed in their own tasks to notice what had just happened. I shook my head, trying to make sense of it. Maybe it was a trick of the light. Or maybe I was losing my mind.

I returned to my trench, my hands trembling as I picked up my brush. What had just happened? The rational part of my brain told me it was impossible, but another part, a deeper, almost instinctual part, knew that something had changed. The rest of the day passed in a blur. I was on autopilot, mechanically going through the motions of my work. That evening, as I lay in my tent, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something monumental had shifted. I stared at my hands, turning them over and over, but they looked the same as they always had. Ordinary. Human.