The rain hadn't stopped for three days. Heavy clouds hung low over the Amazon, blotting out the sun and turning the jungle into a suffocating labyrinth of green and shadow. Raj Darkthrone stood at the edge of the boat, ignoring the downpour as it soaked through his jacket. His sharp eyes scanned the twisting river ahead, his fingers wrapped tightly around a map that had led him across continents and through countless dead ends.

"This time, it will be different," he told himself. "This time, I won't walk away empty-handed."

The Tomb of Anuk'Thar was no myth. Every instinct screamed that it was real. The ancient texts he'd uncovered, the cryptic symbols on forgotten relics—all of them pointed here, to the heart of the Amazon. A place older than recorded history. A place that even the jungle itself seemed afraid to reveal.

Behind him, the hum of the boat's engine faltered for a second, then sputtered back to life. He glanced over his shoulder at his team, who were busy securing equipment and checking supplies. Nine people. A mix of seasoned veterans and specialists, each brought along for their unique skills.

Raj had long since stopped trusting anyone. Trust was a luxury for fools, and he was no fool. At least one of them was here for reasons other than discovery. Someone had been planted—sent to undermine him, to steal whatever treasure the tomb held. He didn't know who it was yet, but he would.

And when he did…

He smiled grimly. The traitor wouldn't live long enough to regret their decision.

Raj's Past

Raj wasn't a cruel man by nature. Not at first. But decades of betrayal, failure, and near-death experiences had stripped away whatever kindness had once lived in him. The world was a brutal place, and survival meant being willing to do what others wouldn't.

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There had been a time when he sought knowledge for its own sake—a young archaeologist full of dreams, eager to bring forgotten truths into the light. But those dreams had died a long time ago, buried beneath layers of compromise and blood.

He was still chasing knowledge, but now it was for power. For control. For survival.

And for something more—a dark, insatiable need that even he couldn't fully explain.

"Sir," said Noah, the expedition's navigator, breaking Raj's reverie. "We're five minutes from the drop-off point."

Raj nodded. "Good. Prepare the gear. We'll move quickly—no delays."

As the boat slowed, the jungle seemed to lean in closer, its thick canopy swallowing what little light remained. The river narrowed, its banks lined with gnarled roots that reached like skeletal hands toward the water. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and decaying leaves.

The team disembarked in silence, their boots sinking into the muddy ground. Raj led the way, machete in hand, cutting through the dense foliage. Every step felt like a battle, the jungle resisting their presence at every turn.

"Stay close," he ordered. "And keep your eyes open."

Hours passed in oppressive silence. The team followed Raj without question, but the tension was palpable. They were deep in uncharted territory now—far beyond the reach of maps or modern civilization.

"Do you even know where you're taking us?" muttered Callum, the mercenary Raj had hired for security.

Raj didn't bother to look back. "If you have a better idea, feel free to share."

Callum snorted but said nothing more. The mercenary wasn't the talkative type, but Raj had caught the calculating glances he'd been throwing at the rest of the team. He wasn't just watching for threats from the jungle—he was watching for weakness among his own people.

It wasn't long before the first signs appeared. Carved into the trees were symbols—ancient glyphs that seemed to pulse faintly in the dim light. They were barely visible beneath layers of moss, but they were there, unmistakable.

Eva, the historian, stopped to examine one of the symbols. Her brow furrowed. "These… these markings are old. Pre-Columbian, maybe older. I've never seen anything like them."

Raj studied the glyphs. He recognized them immediately, but he said nothing. There was no need to alarm the others—not yet.

"We're on the right track," he said simply. "Keep moving."

But the symbols weren't the only strange thing. The air grew colder the deeper they went, despite the oppressive humidity. The sounds of the jungle faded into an eerie silence, broken only by the crunch of their footsteps on the forest floor.

More than once, Raj caught movement out of the corner of his eye—shadowy figures flitting between the trees, gone the moment he turned his head.

By the time they reached a clearing, the light had almost disappeared. Raj checked the coordinates on his map and nodded. "We'll camp here for the night. The tomb is close. We'll reach it by midday tomorrow."

The team set up their tents in uneasy silence. The fire crackled in the center of the camp, its light barely penetrating the darkness around them.

Raj sat apart from the others, studying the map once again. He traced the lines with his finger, his mind racing. He could feel it—the tomb was close. It called to him, a distant whisper just beyond hearing.

And then… everything would change.