My grandfather was an archeologist, so I grew up hearing all sorts of stories about hidden treasure. He had even shown me some Inca gold he found while excavating ruins in Peru. The stories fascinated me, and when he brought out that small, shiny medallion, emblazoned with the sun, I was transported back in time. I could see the villagers, trading coins for goods. The rulers, creating and enforcing laws of the land. The children, laughing and playing games. Even the human sacrifices, awaiting their doomed fate with cautious reverence.

Those memories set the track for my whole life. I took every opportunity I could to learn about ancient cultures. When I ran out of books to read, I joined archeology digs, went to college, and then started leading my own expeditions. My various teams and I trekked through lush South American jungles, searching for hidden treasures. We usually found artifacts that most people would call inconsequential or even boring, but we rejoiced in the validation squeezed from weeks and months of strenuous work. Rarely would we find gold jewelry, significant carvings, or intact buildings. The excitement that ran through the crew after one of those finds though? There is no experience like it.

One find stood out more than all the rest. We were a small crew, just three people total, on a remote site outside Cusco, the ancient empire’s capital. It had been raining for days on end and we had found nothing but scattered blocks. Morale was running low. I was working alone in the mud in my sector of the site, digging out stone after fallen stone. The blocks were small and fairly close together, and the vestiges of a fire pit were nearby- this was probably the remains of someone’s home. Even the most novice archeologist would call this a routine find.

As the sun started to sink below the tops of the trees and I began to prepare to leave the site for the night, I noticed something in an uncleared area that seemed out of place. The light of my headlamp was softly reflected back at me from the dense vegetation in a way that was reminiscent of polished stone. I grabbed my pruning shears and began removing the greenery to expose whatever lay beneath. With each vine and frond removed, my pulse quickened. Before long, the artifact was completely exposed. I stood to look at it, breathless.

Before me lay a large circular stone, engraved with the likeness of Inti, the Inca sun god. The whole stone spanned further than the reach of my arms and appeared completely unmarred by centuries of neglect. Each channel in the stone carving had been softened at the edges by natural erosion, but the image was still perfectly clear and detailed. The rays emanating from Inti’s head had been inlaid with gold and shimmered softly in the yellow light of my lamp. This was by far the largest single artifact I had ever found. I stared at the image, transfixed. It was beautiful.

By this time, the sun had sunk well below the trees and I could hear my teammates calling out to me. I called them over, knowing I would need their help documenting and preserving the carved stone. It was worth working well into the night too- this felt like a once in a lifetime event.

Shortly, I was joined by my teammates, Andrea and Diego, and we set about photographing the artifact. We worked with practiced efficiency, moving around the stone, documenting every tiny detail. We were approximately three quarters of the way around when Andrea noticed a small notch and very thin lines in the side of the stone. It looked like a secret hatch. After photographing, she pulled on the notch and a small rectangle of stone slid out of the side of the artifact. We marveled at the ease with which it was removed- the precision and craftsmanship required to make such a hatch work so well after all these intervening years was astounding. After shining my lamp into the hole, I reached in and pulled out a bundle of knotted ropes and a scrap of yellowed paper. I looked at the others in amazement. I had been studying the Inca for years and recognized the quipu right away, but the paper was new. As far as any of us knew, there was no indication of paper being used by the Incas. To make the find even more bizarre, if I held the paper up to the light, I could see the faint outline of a map...

I don’t know where the map leads and there is nothing written on it. There are some landmarks that line up with our modern maps, but several location markers don’t coincide with any known sites. Considering the care taken to hide this map and the location in which it was hidden, I’m sure you understand why I have to follow it. I need to know where it leads.

You may be wondering why I decided to write this letter to you. The sad fact of the matter is, you’re the closest thing I have to a friend. In my pursuit of knowledge of the Inca empire, I’ve neglected most personal connections. I also can’t tell the University where I’m going since we’re supposed to stay on site until we finish. This discovery is too big to let wait though. We’re resupplying in Cusco as I write this and will leave from here. As I mentioned before, I don’t know what I’m walking into with this map, so if you don’t hear from me again by the end of the year, please use the included copy of the map and come find me.

I’m trusting you with my life.