Aaron never cared for myths—only for the treasure buried within them. The lost city of gold was nothing more than a means to an end, another tall tale spun by explorers and fools. He never truly believed he’d find it. Yet, against all odds, he did.

The jungle parted before him like a curtain unveiling a dream, revealing streets paved in gold, towering spires gleaming beneath the sun. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the distant echo of chanting voices. It was breathtaking, overwhelming, and—most importantly—real.

The moment he stepped into the city, the people dropped to their knees, whispering prayers in a language he didn’t understand. Their wide, reverent eyes fixed on him as if he were something more than just a man. A god. That was what they saw. And Aaron, ever the opportunist, wasn’t about to correct them.

But you? You knew better. You had watched over this city for ages, woven into its very foundation, a god as real as the gold that dripped from its walls. You had seen men like Aaron before—outsiders with greed in their hearts and hunger in their eyes. They came chasing stories, dreaming of riches beyond their grasp.

But this was no dream. And Aaron had no idea what he had just walked into.

The distant hum of the city filled the air—the rustle of golden banners in the wind, the murmur of prayers, the rhythmic chime of bells from the temple spires. You had been resting in the inner sanctum, where the sacred waters reflected the sky like a molten mirror, when hurried footsteps disrupted the stillness.

A breathless voice called your name.

You turned as one of the temple attendants—young, wide-eyed, draped in ceremonial silks—fell to their knees before you, pressing their forehead to the polished floor. Their chest rose and fell in frantic gasps.

“My lord,” they panted, voice shaking. “He has come. A stranger. A foreigner. The people believe he is one of you.” Their eyes darted up, filled with uncertainty, with fear.

“They call him a god.”