Chapter 1 – Fallen and Found

Rookie Mistake

Kate’s POV

The Romanian afternoon sun beat down relentlessly, casting a shimmering heat haze over the dusty landscape. Sweat trickled down my back, soaking through my thin cotton shirt despite the wide-brimmed hat shading my face. “SPF 50 is my best friend,” I muttered, adjusting the hat for extra protection. “Gotta protect this archaeologist skin from turning into ancient parchment.”

The air hung heavy with the scent of pine needles and sun-baked earth, punctuated by the occasional earthy whiff of turned soil. I crouched lower, the dry grass crunching beneath my knees, my fingers carefully tracing the intricate patterns on a shard of ancient pottery. “Ooh, pretty,” I murmured, appreciating the craftsmanship. “You’d fetch a nice price on eBay, wouldn’t you?” I chuckled to myself, imagining the bidding war between history nerds and eccentric collectors.

The dig site bustled around me, a symphony of sounds and sights that always filled me with a sense of belonging. The rhythmic thud of shovels, the scrape of trowels against dirt, the excited chatter of the team in a mix of Romanian and English—it was a language all its own, one I’d come to understand and love. The dig team, a mix of local Romanian students and seasoned archaeologists from around the world, bustled around, unearthing and cataloging finds.

Dan, one of the local students, was a whirlwind of dark, curly hair and energy, his enthusiasm for archaeology matched only by his talent for finding trouble. Right now, he was engaged in an animated discussion with Elena, my fellow archaeologist and partner in crime. Elena, with her her trademark messy bun of dark brown curls and famous quick wit, was a force to be reckoned with, both in the field and at the local pub.

I straightened up, stretching my aching back. “Ugh, I’m getting too old for this,” I groaned, feeling a twinge in my lower back. “Maybe I should take up underwater basket weaving instead. At least there’s no sun damage at the bottom of the ocean.”

Dr. Petrescu, the head of the excavation, strode past, his eyes scanning the site with a hawk-like intensity. “Keep up the good work, everyone!” he boomed, his voice echoing across the ruins. “There’s something significant there, I can feel it. “

His words sent a thrill of excitement through me. Despite the aches and pains, this was why I did what I did. The thrill of uncovering the past, of piecing together the puzzle of human history, was like nothing else in the world.

Just then, Dan’s voice cut through the air, filled with the kind of excitement that usually meant he’d found either a priceless artifact or a particularly large spider. Given his track record, I was hoping for the former.

“Kate, over here!” he called out, his grin wide as he waved me over.

I hurried over, trying to ignore the ominous creaking of my knees. “What have you got there, Dan?” I asked, peering into the trench where he was kneeling, Elena right beside him, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

He gestured to a partially unearthed stone tablet. “Check this out! It’s got some weird symbols on it.”

I knelt beside them, examining the faint carvings. “Hmm, looks like someone’s attempt at modern art,” I joked. “Maybe a long-lost Banksy?”

Dan rolled his eyes, but his grin remained. “Seriously though, this could be something important. The symbols are unlike anything we’ve seen at this site.”

I traced the lines with my gloved finger, feeling a tingle of excitement. “You might be right. This could be our ticket to archaeological fame and fortune! Or, you know, at least a footnote in some obscure journal.”

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the site, we packed up for the night. The air cooled, and the sounds of the forest grew louder, filling the silence left by our departing work. I took a moment to appreciate the tranquility, the feeling of being surrounded by history and the camaraderie of the team. It was moments like these that made all the backaches and sunburns worth it.

The dig site itself was stunning. 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 and the remains of an ancient dacian settlement.

Later, around the campfire, I shared a marshmallow with Elena. 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 and burning marshmallows mingled with the scent of pine. It was in these moments that I felt most at home, surrounded by people who shared my passion and curiosity.

“This dig is amazing,” I said, toasting my marshmallow to gooey perfection. “But I could really go for a hot shower and a decent glass of wine right now.”

Elena laughed, her eyes sparkling in the firelight. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back in civilization soon enough. And then it’s spa day and wine tasting, my treat.”

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.

Despite my exhaustion, sleep didn’t come easily. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt off. The stone tablet we’d found, the symbols… they seemed to resonate with a strange energy. I tried to dismiss it as exhaustion, but the feeling persisted.

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 red embers in the dark. 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 day, as I was brushing dirt from a small clay figure, I heard a shout from a nearby trench.

“Fir-ar să fie!” Dan yelled, clutching his hand. Blood seeped through his fingers.

I dropped my tools and sprinted over to where Dan was kneeling, my heart pounding. “What happened?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

He winced, showing me a nasty gash. “Cut myself on something sharp,” he groaned, his face twisted in pain. “Stupid rookie mistake.”

I quickly took off my dirty gloves and rummaged through my bag for the first aid kit. “Hold on, Dan. I’ve got some bandages here,” I said, trying to sound reassuring as I unwrapped the gauze.

Dan’s brow furrowed in pain as I gently cleaned the wound. “Thanks, Kate,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I smiled wryly. “Probably bleed out in a Romanian ditch. Not exactly the glamorous ending you imagined for your archaeological career, huh?”

He chuckled weakly, but the pain was clearly getting to him. As I reached out to bandage his hand, a sudden warmth surged through me, like a current of electricity. My hands tingled, and a strange sense of calm washed over me.

I hesitated, my eyes widening as I watched the wound begin to knit itself back together. The bleeding stopped, the skin mending until there was no sign of the injury except a faint, thin line that looked like an old scar.

Dan’s stared at his hand, his pupils blown wide with shock. “What the hell?” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of disbelief and awe. “Did that just… heal itself?”

A stunned silence hung between us as we both stared at Dan’s hand, the only sound the gentle chirping of crickets in the distance. The air crackled with an energy I couldn’t explain, a sense of something extraordinary hanging in the balance.

I blinked, trying to clear my vision. “Must have been a trick of the light,” I finally managed to say, my voice barely a whisper.

Dan seemed to accept the explanation, though a flicker of doubt remained in his eyes. He flexed his hand, testing the movement. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

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 finally losing my mind.

I returned to my trench, my hands trembling as I picked up my brush. The clay figure I had been working on seemed insignificant now, a mere distraction from the questions swirling in my mind. 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. But my mind was elsewhere, consumed by the impossible event I had witnessed. 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.