"If there is a paradise on Earth, Damascus is at its heart.
If paradise is in the heavens, then Damascus stands as its equal."
This ancient city had witnessed the rise and fall of the Roman and Byzantine Empires, stood at the heart of the Umayyad Caliphate, and lingered in the echoes of history when Saladin triumphed over the Western Crusaders.
It had known many rulers—Babylonians, Egyptians, Hittites, Assyrians, Persians. It had been a jewel in the crown of Alexander the Great.
Pompey's Roman legions had once marched through its streets, and atop the ruins of the Hadad Temple, a grand shrine to Jupiter had been erected.
Its walls had stood tall for centuries.
The Gate of Thomas still endured to the east.
It was through the Gate of Caesar that Saint Paul had once entered Damascus to preach, and the grandest church in the city still bore his name.
Lara Croft had visited Damascus before the war.
She had walked through the Damascus National Museum, stood before Saint Paul's Church, admired the ruins of Palmyra, and strolled through the courtyards of the Umayyad Mosque.
Sir Richard Croft had once been invited to Damascus to study artifacts from the Seleucid period.
A young Lara had accompanied him, even conversing with the famed Syrian historian Khaled al-Asaad.
But with the eruption of war and the rise of terror groups, those places were no longer what they once were—nor could they ever be again.
This city, once called the "Silk of the Levant," had been scorched by war.
The museum had been forced to evacuate its treasures, closing its doors indefinitely.
Lara's hope of finding clues in the museum was shattered.
Her only option was to return to Europe and track down artifacts that had been looted by terrorists—perhaps among them, she would find what she sought.
She had never seen any religious artwork depicting angels clad in golden Gothic armor.
But she knew a European art historian who might.
This historian was an expert on ancient Greek and medieval art and had an unmatched mastery of Baroque and Gothic architecture.
Lara hoped Solomon could help identify the golden angels from the murals she had sketched and photographed.
After all, it was virtually impossible for a 10th-century Byzantine fresco to feature an angel in Gothic plate armor.
It simply did not align with history.
Then there was the term "Divine Source".
A name no one seemed to recognize.
Perhaps a sorcerer like Solomon had heard of it.
Thankfully, she was traveling by private plane—otherwise, she would have had no way of leaving Syria.
Due to the war, most international airlines had suspended flights to Damascus.
Emirates and EgyptAir had long canceled their routes, British Airways had ceased flights in May 2012, and Royal Jordanian had followed suit in July.
As the plane lifted off, Lara could see the hardened aircraft shelters and artillery positions south of the airport.
Exhausted, she thought she could hear distant artillery fire rolling through the hazy skyline like distant thunder.
But when she strained to listen—there was only silence.
She feared that the Trinity organization would come after her for what had happened in the Prophet's Tomb.
Solomon's weapons had come in handy, but she hadn't brought enough firepower to mount a strong counteroffensive.
The hired pilot listened coldly as she recounted her experience.
Then, without a word, he guided the aircraft away from Damascus.
With the aid of certain protocols, he expertly altered their flight path, concealing their presence among the tangled web of short-haul routes crisscrossing Europe.
Lara, aching from her wounds, forced herself to ask the pilot a question.
"I was SAS," the man replied nonchalantly.
"I promise you—those people will never track you. As far as the world is concerned, this plane no longer exists."
Three days later, she finally arrived in New York.
Solomon had long since left London.
He wasn't in the United States, either.
Rumor had it that he had gone off-world.
No one knew when he would return.
A certain beautiful witch pointed Lara toward Athena Hill, where a Greek-Roman historian resided.
Bayonetta mentioned that the historian was Solomon's adoptive mother, who ran an orphanage and had even published a book.
Solomon's deep knowledge of ancient Greek art and history, she explained, was the result of his mother's ruthless education.
"There's nothing sexier than a man with marble dust on his hands," Bayonetta had teased.
"He picked up a hammer and chisel before he was even of age.
Everything in this apartment—plaster casts, marble statues, oil paintings, sketches—all his work.
If you're looking for answers, Lara Croft, you'll find them there."
Hopeful, Lara went to meet Minerva—only to have a cold dose of reality thrown in her face.
The orphanage's elegant mistress had no idea where the engravings on the armor came from.
Yet, despite her lack of answers, she welcomed Lara warmly.
She spoke of nothing but Solomon, and their conversation soon drifted from art history to modern fashion.
At one point, she nearly dragged Lara off to a shopping mall.
Lara saw many artifacts from ancient Greece and Rome, but her urgent search left her with no time to linger in New York.
With her trail gone cold, she returned to the Croft Manor in Surrey, where she pored over her father's notes once more.
If Lara had found Eternal City—if she had found Stephanie—she would have discovered something astonishing.
Deep within the heavily guarded underground vaults of Eternal City lay one hundred golden suits of armor.
Each was fitted with advanced technology.
The engravings on the golden plates—
were identical to those in the murals.
She had found her lead.
In a manuscript titled The Chronicle of Kitezh, she discovered an unusual cross.
It was the exact same cross she had seen in the Prophet's Tomb.
A fusion of the Celtic cross, the Jerusalem cross, and the Maltese cross.
Lara knew 450 variations of the Christian cross—
Yet she had never encountered this one.
It did not resemble the Orthodox cross.
Nor did it match the cross of the Presbyterians.
The legend of Kitezh was even more perplexing.
It was said that after the Mongols conquered parts of Russia, Batu Khan heard tales of Kitezh—a city of divine wonder—and sent his armies to claim it.
The Mongols easily overran Little Kitezh.
Grand Prince Yuri was forced to retreat into the forests, seeking refuge near Lake Svetloyar, where Greater Kitezh was said to lie.
A captured prisoner betrayed the secret route leading to the city.
Guided by this treacherous knowledge, the Mongols reached Kitezh's walls—
Only to find that the city had no fortifications.
The people inside made no attempt to resist.
Instead, they knelt in fervent prayer, pleading for salvation.
Seeing their helplessness, the Mongols launched their attack.
But before they could breach the city—
The ground erupted with torrents of water.
Springs burst forth from beneath their feet.
The Mongols could do nothing but retreat.
Before their eyes, Kitezh sank into the lake.
The last thing they saw was the gilded dome of the great cathedral—
And the cross upon it, gleaming in the sunlight.
Then—
The city was gone.
Only the rippling waves remained.
Lara Croft—obsessed with uncovering lost histories—
Decided she had to find Kitezh.
She knew it held the answers she sought.
But her companion, Jonah, vehemently opposed her plan.
To him, the legend was absurd.
Lara was falling into the same obsession that had consumed her father.
Furious, Jonah left.
But Lara would not have long to grieve his absence.
Because Trinity had found her.
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