Fool's Gold // Illinois (ahwm) x OC ✔️

15. Of Mercenaries and Gold

As I ventured deeper into the island, the dense jungle around me seemed to swallow the light, casting long shadows that danced with the leaves in the gentle breeze. The air was thick with humidity, carrying the scent of earth and the distant salt of the sea, mingling with the rich aroma of flowering vines that draped over tree limbs, creating a natural tapestry of vibrant colours against the deep greens of the small forest.

Ahead, the mountain loomed like an ancient guardian of the island's secrets. Its base was shrouded in thick foliage, making it seem as though it rose abruptly from the earth itself. The mountain's slopes were steep, covered in a patchwork of trees and underbrush that seemed to dare adventurers to discover what lay beyond. Here and there, rocky outcrops jutted out from the greenery, their surfaces worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain, glistening slightly under the intermittent rays of sunlight that pierced the canopy above.

As I pressed on, the sounds of the jungle filled my ears: the distant calls of exotic birds, the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush, and the constant, soothing whisper of the breeze through the trees. It was a place of unparalleled natural beauty, yet every step forward was a reminder of the untamed wilderness that surrounded me, a world untouched by time.

The path, if it could even be called that, became increasingly difficult to navigate as I approached the mountain. Roots snaked across the ground, creating natural tripwires, and the vegetation grew denser, almost as if the island itself was resisting my advance. Yet, there was a noticeable sense of ancient history here, unexplained structures that I didn't know what once were in their time, built against the mountain walls.

Finding an entrance into the mountain was not going to be straightforward. The landscape hinted at hidden caves and overgrown passes, places where the mountain might reveal its secrets to those persistent and brave enough to seek them out. I knew I was close to something. The challenge was not just in the physical journey but in piecing together the clues that nature itself had hidden away.

As I moved forward, the mountain seemed to stand taller. And here was where I had to climb. There didn't seem to be an entrance on the ground level so I would have to make my way up the higher reaches of the mountain to search for any hidden passages or caves. The incline was steep, and the thick vegetation made progress slow and demanding. Sweat beaded on my brow as I gripped onto roots and rocks, pulling myself upward with each step.

The air grew thinner the higher I climbed, and the sounds of the jungle below faded into a distant murmur. All around me, the mountain seemed to close in, its rugged surface offering no respite from the relentless climb. Yet, with each passing moment, I try to push through despite the physical strain.

As I reached a particularly treacherous section of the ascent, the slope steepening to near-vertical, I paused to catch my breath and assess my surroundings. The view from this vantage point was breathtaking, the canopy of the jungle stretching out below me like a vast green carpet, broken only by the occasional glimpse of shimmering water in the distance.

But there was no time to linger. I pressed on, hand over hand, inching my way upward as the mountain seemed to challenge me at every turn. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I reached a cave where an old sabre was shoved into dirt, a small clearing nestled among the rocks and scrub.

Here, I paused once more. The wind was blowing my hair, and the birds flew around in the sky creating different shapes among the clouds. The sun is now fully lighting the place, the heat of the Caribbean sea slowly rising.

I used to see pictures with views like these in the geography books Ahmad gave me when he took me under his wing for expeditions. It feels like a lifetime ago, back when all I knew were the dusty corridors of the office, the musty smell of ancient artefacts filling the air as I diligently catalogued and labelled each piece. In the beginning, all I did was office work, helping with documents, learning history, and all that. I dreamt of finally going out into the field when I was cooped up in that dusty room full of antiques, and when I did, I never forgot my first find: a simple silver cob from Peru. It may have seemed insignificant to some, but to me, it was a symbol of possibility. Granted, it was basically just a coin, but it was worth hundreds. I found different coins throughout my journeys and plastered them in a frame that hung on my home's walls, along with other things I was too attached to instead of giving them to a collector or museum.