The Untold: In The Lost Realm

EPISODE - 1

SIMEIN MOUNTAINS, ETHIOPIA

A battered Toyota careens through the rugged twists and turns of Ethiopia's high valleys, its engine growling as it navigates the unforgiving terrain. Inside, the infectious beat of "On Top Of The World" fills the air, courtesy of a pair of devoted Imagine Dragons enthusiasts. With adrenaline coursing through their veins, they barrel towards a destination where the sunlight fractures into a kaleidoscope of hues amidst the breathtaking natural wonders of Ethiopia.

The Ethiopian driver, his eyes gleaming with admiration for the famous figure seated beside him, steers the car toward the summit of a small mountain peak. Despite his focus on the road, he can't contain his excitement about sharing the joy of the ride. 'Yo, man! Allan!' he exclaims, his voice filled with enthusiasm. 'This song, it's pure fire!'

Allan, a 30-year-old fair-skinned American with a mop of medium-length silky hair, clad in a woolen rugged coat despite the scorching equatorial heat, flashes a grin in response. Beneath the coat, he sports a simple t-shirt, paired with ordinary tailored trousers. 'That's some real fire, man,' he agrees, nodding in appreciation. 'Imagine Dragons always bring the heat. Yo!'

The car grinds to a halt at a small peak, the music fading into silence as a somber mood settles over the occupants. Allan slings his bag over his chest, securing it around his shoulder, while the Ethiopian driver steps out of the car, followed closely by Allan from the other side.

'This ain't no small spot,' the Ethiopian driver remarks, casting a glance around the expansive landscape. 'You sure this is it?'

Confident in his conviction, Allan nods firmly and retrieves a weathered, ancient map from his sling bag. With purposeful strides, he makes his way to the rear of the car and opens the storage space, revealing a sturdy mountaineering backpack nestled within. Returning to the group, Allan spots a narrow pathway leading into a dense forest. Peering through the foliage, he catches sight of a valley below, where a majestic waterfall cascades down its rocky face.

'This is it,' Allan declares with a sense of certainty, his gaze fixed on the breathtaking vista before him.

'You're heading down there?' the local remarks, his tone tinged with concern. 'Alright, but let me tell you a story first. That's the place where the Genwarar trees grow. It's been untouched for over 150 years, and those who venture in never return. They say evil spirits haunt those grounds... There are many theories about it. When Ethiopia lost the war against Ahmad Gragn, many soldiers were imprisoned there...'

Allan interjects, his curiosity piqued. 'And those soldiers... they died there and became the evil spirits?'

'That's the tale the locals tell,' the driver continues, 'but our family's belief runs deeper. My great-grandfather was an excavator who dug into that land. He vanished for eight days, and when he finally returned, he was in a dark mood. He barely touched his dinner before retiring to his room. The next morning, he was found dead—an apparent suicide. It wasn't until later that my grandfather discovered his notes, written in Semithara, an ancient tribal language of these mountains known to no one from 5th century. Among his writings were sketches of those. I'm telling you, it's risky...'

'But I've been tasked with this mission,' Allan presses on, his determination unwavering. 'If we can uncover any hint of a remedy, we could potentially save thousands of children afflicted by the ThunduPulma Plague. Our research is solid, and if we succeed, I have seen your records, and your son's records... You know the pain, right?'

The local's expression shifts from shock to profound sorrow in an instant, his gaze dropping to the ground. 'Yes...' he murmurs, his voice heavy with emotion. 'And I believe you should have this.' With a resigned sigh, he reaches into his sling bag and retrieves the ancient book belonging to his great-grandfather, offering it to Allan.