John walked down the red brick avenue reading, Antiquities of Lost Civilizations, a thick leather bound book that he had just purchased from, Edgar’s Antiques the best purveyor of curiosities in Boston. He had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of this particular volume and couldn’t help but begin reading as he walked home. One eye on the road and another on the book he made his way down the avenue. The flickering light of a street lamp caught his eye and gave him pause. He looked up from the book focusing his attention on the surroundings and realized that he had managed to walk nearly an entire block past his house. With an embarrassed chuckle, he took the gold pocket watch his father had left him out of his breast pocket, read the time and nonchalantly turned around.

A tall wall of hedges marked his family estate affording them a bit of privacy from the bustling avenue the large home was located on. He made his way between the opening in the hedge and down the brick path. The groundskeeper Mr. Mason gave a polite wave before returning to raking up recently leaves from the large maple trees that grew around the property. Sitting on the front steps of his home was a large wooden crate. The crate was marked “FRAGILE” in bold red letters. He carefully placed his book on the crate and carried it inside. It was light but he could feel a heavier object shifting inside as he carried it through the foyer. He set it down on the paper cluttered desk in his office and retrieved a small pry bar then with some effort removed the top of the crate. A white envelope sat on top of a dense padding of hay. Written in flowing script was the name, Eric Anderson, a friend and successful merchant captain of some renown. John broke the seal and took the sturdy sheet of paper out.

“John,

It has been too long since we have last spoken and I regret not keeping in touch more regularly. I have discovered something of great curiosity. Knowing what you studied I believed that you would be as interested as I. I will be arriving in Boston as soon as we make the final repairs to the ship.

Kind regards,

Your friend, Eric.”

John tossed the letter aside and dug through the hay like a child on Christmas morning. Tucked in a small pocket of hay in the center of the crate was a small statue. He carefully picked it up and was immediately surprised by the weight of the seemingly delicate statue. It appeared to be carved out of a single piece of dark stone, like smokey obsidian. The statue was of a muscular bearded man holding an orb with another smaller man kneeling with his hand palming the orb. Intricate details were meticulously carved into the stone, runes were carved into the base of the statue that teased John with a familiarity he couldn’t quite place.

Valka?

The word was dredged up from the memory of a lecture he attended at university. An archaeological fairy tale, a Nordic Atlantis that was summarily dismissed by most of academia.

Until now.

He returned his attention to the statue, the man holding the orb stared down at the kneeling man, John could almost see yearning in his dark eyes. He stared at the orb held between the two figures for quite some time. It captured the eye and he couldn’t help but stare into the seemingly endless depths of the stone. He had never seen anything like this or heard of anything like this in his entire life.

Annabelle placed her hand on his shoulder causing him to jump in his seat nearly dropping the statue.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to startle you!”

He gently sat the statue down on the table and turned to look at his wife. Her blue eyes full of concern and apology.

“I was just startled by your beauty, my love,” he said rising from the leather chair.

Red bloomed on her porcelain cheeks. He took her in his arms and kissed his new wife. They had only been married for a few short months, an arranged marriage by their fathers. John had protested vehemently up until the moment he laid eyes on her.

“And what has you so worked up my love?” she asked when they finally released each other.

“Eric Anderson has sent me something incredible,” he said showing her the statue.

“A statue of two creepy little men?” she asked.

He barked out a laugh.

“Yes, the creepy little men. But more importantly, it begs the question of who made the statue. If I’m correct it could be a rumored lost civilization. This could be the discovery of a lifetime!”

“Does this mean you’ll be leaving?” she asked, her voice filling with sadness.

“If I can convince the Lords of Science to fund an expedition.”

“Then we don’t have much time for you to give me a child,” she said taking his hand in hers and led him toward their bedroom.