Taken From The Journals of Thurston Von Hamilton - October 18th, 1895
"Deep in the Guatemalan jungle – late afternoon: Thurston Von Hamilton, draped in a cloak of shadow, tread carefully where angels feared to step. Tales of a jungle so malevolent that even the moon hesitated to shine upon it were whispered in hushed tones in every parlor back in London.
A blood-tinted, gear-driven compass, once owned by his missing father, led Thurston’s way. Every tick marked not only direction but also the ebbing of Thurston's time; for every hour spent in this jungle drained precious time as he searched for clues. Suddenly, the dark jungle parted revealing a sinister sight: the Cursed Temple, its entrance a maw ready to consume all who dare to enter. The forest seemed to hiss with anticipation.
This temple's legends were no mere tales—every stone screamed of despair and every corner whispered of the fallen. Inside, a dim chamber bathed in the glow of molten red revealed a beating clockwork heart encased in obsidian. Its rhythm was erratic, frenetic—as if time itself was being choked. The heart's voice, cold and jagged, beckoned, "Release me and regain your stolen father." But Thurston knew better than to be ensnared by its siren call.
As the last slivers of daylight threatened to fall, he quickly etched the cursed sight into his journal, praying that his warning would reach others in time. If Thurston can survive the night and escape with the temples secrets, he knows it will be truth too dark to be kept but too dangerous to be shared. But venture on he must.. London and the world may rely on him! "