Most people considered searching for buried relics an unusual hobby for a twenty-year-old woman. Her friends had given up trying to understand her obsession years ago. Her father had originally bought the metal detector as a gift in honour of her “unique personality,” as he claimed when she turned fourteen. She had always been a very curious kid, wanting to explore new things, trying to find out how they worked and where they came from.
Maya had held onto the metal detector tightly, treating the simple device like a key to lost worlds. Every weekend for six years, she explored fields and woods alone. She meticulously documented every find in a handwritten journal, starting with a rusted tin can.
Her notebook was filled with endless entries of worthless nails, broken wire, and corroded modern junk. But today was entirely different. Back home, as she zoomed in on high-resolution photographs of the strange coin on her laptop, her breath hitched.