There were times when I wondered if his lack of faith did not blind him to the realities of our world.

He spent much time obsessing about alien artifacts when he should have been more concerned about the ailments that troubled our people.

I once dared to question him on this matter.

”You could do so much good for our brothers—”

”Am I not doing good?” he had interrupted right away, with a quirked brow.

”You are,” I had lied, “but you could do so much better.”

”And how should I go about it exactly?”

Rakash was never an easy person to speak to. He would read things into your words you had not intended to say. There were hidden meanings at every corner, and one had to be wary not to take a bad turn.

”Why do you not believe in the gods?” I had asked after a moment of silence, well aware I was using one of his tricks to avoid a subject with an indirectly connected question.

He had smiled, as if to let me know he had noticed and appreciated the effort.

”A better question would be: why should I?”

”But you’ve met them, you saw what they could do... how can you not believe after that?”

We were sitting in his library, as we often did. It was his favorite room in the mansion.

He had risen then, and gone to a shelf. After browsing through the titles, he had picked one of the volumes and walked back to his chair. He had tossed the book into my lap as he sat down.

Looking at the cover, I’d noticed it was a history of ancient Earth. I knew him to have a fascination for that world—though considering his disdain for humans, I often wondered why.

”Are you familiar with the story of the Conquistadors?” he had asked.

”Can’t say that I am...”

”It’s a fascinating one. Page 335. Take a look.”

I’d flipped through the pages and read the relevant passage.

As I went through it, I began to guess his reasoning.

”But we are not savages,” I had protested. “And our gods are not like these Spanish invaders...”

”Are you sure?”

I’d frowned. “They did not come to invade us, so yes, I’m sure.”

”You are missing the point,” he’d remarked. “It’s not about invasion, or being savages... It’s about knowledge, and our ability—or lack thereof—to comprehend things which are beyond our understanding.”

”And what is it we do not understand?”

”The Aztecs did not understand the weapons and armors the Conquistadors used and wore, so they wrongly assumed they were gods. Because it is easier to ascribe to divinity that which we do not understand.”

I had closed the book and set it down on the table in front of us.

”Is this why you spend so much time studying alien artifacts?”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

”I like to understand things, Evken. I never assume that, just because I do not yet understand something, it has to be of a divine nature. Everything has a rational, logical explanation.”

”Magic does not,” I’d pointed out.

He had laughed. “On the contrary! Magic, just like science, follows its own strict rules.”

”Why not study it, then?”

He had made a dismissive gesture.

”There are those among us who do. But it is not my field of expertise—it never has been, and never will be.”

I had not replied as I mulled over his words.

After a moment, he had turned toward me the type of smile I had come to recognize as a warning one was about to enter a maze of intricate paths filled with booby traps.

”So tell me, Evken... Would I serve our people better by blindly believing in so-called gods, or by piercing alien secrets that may unlock space travel for us?”

In his own roundabout way, he had answered my question while flipping onto me the blame I had hinted at.

I had deemed it more prudent to remain quiet.

One should not venture lightly into Rakash’s mazes.

***

When they finally reached the end of the tunnel, they saw a vast jungle spread ahead of them, as far as they could see. The trees were lush and thick, benefitting from the heavy rain that often poured over this region.

Michael had worried the darkness would never end. They had spent almost an entire day in there. The stories Christopher had told him had not made him any less anxious, quite the opposite.

His rational mind kept telling him it was silly. Not only were there no monsters—watching them, ready to pounce at the first opportunity—, but there had to be security measures in place to come rescue them in case their vehicle broke down. This was a civilized world, after all.

Then again, half the planet believed gods walked the earth and wanted to throw foreigners off the planet... how rational was that?

The glider flew a few miles into the jungle, then landed in a clearing near a village.

“Is this it?” asked Michael curiously.

“If by that you’re asking if this is where we part ways, then the answer is yes. But if you think this is the end of the line for you, I highly doubt it.”

The archaeologist frowned. “Am I getting dumped on someone else again?”

“Afraid so. Sorry. I’d hate to be you. But it can’t be helped.”

Before Michael could protest, Christopher walked off, heading toward one of the outlying houses. He tried to follow but, of course, he found he could not—he should have expected it. The spell was keeping him in the car.

He wondered if whoever was taking over would be as stringent. Maybe he could convince them he wouldn’t run away... after all, he was curious where all of this was going.

What he saw next, though, took him by surprise.

Christopher came back out with two monks.

As they reached the vehicle, Christopher smiled.

“These are Brothers Wan and Trin. They will take you where you need to go next. Oh, and... don’t waste your breath trying to get answers from them. They are mute.”

Michael stared in disbelief. “What? Are you kidding me?”

The two monks stared back with blank expressions, hands hidden in their sleeves.

“Come on, you can get out now. They’ll take you to a room where you can rest for the night. You’ll start your journey tomorrow. On foot, by the way. These guys don’t believe in technology... Crazy, I know. I really wouldn’t want to be you.”

He affectionately slapped Michael on the back as he got out of the glider.

“Good luck, buddy.”

And just like that, Christopher got into the vehicle and flew off.

“Well, I’ll be...”

Michael looked at the monks, who motioned for him to follow them.

He did.

They were silent, but kind.

There were only monks here, he realized. A community that lived off the grid, cut off from society... There were no holovisors here, no TriVid screens, no electricity. It was like a trip into the prehistoric past.

He was fed, bathed, and given clean clothes—a tunic much like the ones they wore themselves.

At first averse to putting it on, in the end, he relented. Having not changed in days, he was feeling filthy.

During the night—more out of curiosity than an actual desire to flee—he had stepped out of his room and explored the village, testing the limits of his leash.

There were no lamps here, not even torches, but the light of the moon was bright enough that he could see. It was quiet, too. The only sounds he heard were of singing insects and an occasional snore from one of the monks.

He reached the edge of the village and stared at the trees, then back at the houses. There seemed to be no bonds in place anymore. As if they did not fear he would run. Or maybe they figured if he did, he would get lost—if not killed by some local beast—and relieve them of a burden in the process.

I could always head toward the mountain, he thought as he glanced at the distant snow-covered peaks.

It would take him forever to get there on foot, though. Besides, there was no way he’d go into that tunnel without a glider. And there was none here for him to steal.

With a sigh, he went back to bed.

The next day, they woke him at dawn and gestured for him to come out.

After a frugal breakfast, they set out on a dirt path that wound its way through the trees...

Away from the looming mountain and deeper into the jungle.