UnBooks:Ivan's and Lara's vintage tour

Another sequel of weird-ass adventures....

Author

Time machine..

Chapter 1:

The sun was high over Hammersmith as Ivan leaned back against the battered hood of his Škoda Forman, staring at the midday bustle around him. Retirement had been a strange, dragging experience. After years of action, secrets, and night-long stakeouts, his days were now maddeningly empty. He'd tinkered with his car enough times that the Forman could practically disassemble itself, but even that wasn’t enough to stave off the boredom. Today, he’d even tried modifying the old car’s exhaust to see if he could squeeze a bit more life out of it. When he stepped back, though, the results were… questionable, to say the least.

It was just then that Lara’s green Land Rover came into view, rumbling to a halt beside him with a casual precision that betrayed years of experience behind the wheel. As she stepped out, her boots crunching against the gravel, she looked over his latest handiwork on the Forman with an amused smile.

“So… this is how you’ve been keeping busy?” she quipped.

He gave her a dry smile. “Not much else to do these days, is there?”

She looked at him knowingly. “Well, maybe I can help with that.”

Before he could ask, Lara’s expression brightened with a spark of excitement. “I just came back from a raid. Somewhere deep in Turkey’s Taurus Mountains, I found a few treasures that might interest you—and there’s a story to go with them.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “All right, hit me.”

“One of them,” she began, “is a Byzantine amulet, etched with symbols of protection, supposedly made for the high priests during the early years of the empire. They believed it warded off evil… or so the legend goes.”

He smirked. “Priests need amulets to ward off evil, huh? Fancy that.”

Ignoring his sarcasm, she continued, her eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “Then, in a hidden crypt not far from there, I found an ancient map of the Silk Road, lined with strange markers I haven’t deciphered yet. Some kind of code, maybe.”

She then took out her phone, swiping to a picture of a weathered iron goblet. “This, too. I stumbled upon it in a ruined temple near Petra, in Jordan. It’s said to have belonged to a desert chieftain who led one of the last rebel tribes against the empire. Legend has it, the cup never empties as long as you’re truly in need of a drink.”

Ivan chuckled. “Now that’s something I could get behind.”

But Lara wasn’t finished. “And finally, the most mysterious of all: a dagger from the mountains of Armenia, etched with designs I haven’t seen anywhere else. From what I can tell, it was forged to be used in a single, ceremonial act… though nobody knows what it was for. Maybe an ancient rite, maybe something darker.”

Ivan shook his head, a flicker of intrigue breaking through his usual gruff demeanor. “Sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure.”

Her expression softened. “I have. But some things are meant to be shared, don’t you think?”

He looked at her, then at the world that had felt so small since retirement. With a shrug, he said, “Well, I’d be a fool to turn down a trip like that.”

With no further words needed, they both climbed into the Land Rover. As the engine roared to life, Ivan glanced back at his Forman, giving it a reluctant nod, as if it might be the last time he’d see it in one piece. Then, he settled into the passenger seat, and the two sped off, leaving behind the sleepy streets of Hammersmith as they set out toward the unknown.

Ivan thought Land Rovers are obsolete utility boxes...

Chapter 2:

They sped through the countryside, the Land Rover Defender purring along with its polished, yet overly modernized dashboard gleaming under the midday light. Ivan glanced sideways at Lara, who was drenched, her wetsuit still clinging to her as she drove.

He raised an eyebrow, unable to hide his smirk. “All right, you want to tell me why you’re soaked, wearing neoprene, and driving like nothing’s wrong?”

Lara chuckled, glancing over at him with a playful smile. “Let’s just say there were underwater obstacles involved in retrieving that goblet. Figured I’d dry off later.”

Ivan shook his head, smiling. “You’re a character, Croft.”

As they continued down the winding road, Lara turned the conversation to him. “So, how’s that Rover of yours coming along? You finally get it sorted?”

“Almost there,” Ivan replied. “Got the seats reupholstered, engine’s purring, just waiting on a few parts. Should be road-ready soon.”

Lara's Defender was something different

She nodded, giving him a sly look. “Good to hear, but I think I’ve got a surprise in store for you at the manor.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Your last surprise was a tomb raid that nearly gave me a heart attack. Can’t say I’m thrilled.”

She laughed, her eyes dancing with mischief. “This one won’t be so strenuous. Promise.”

He shrugged, and for a moment, they both fell into a comfortable silence. But Ivan couldn’t help noticing the Defender’s interior, glancing around at the glossy plastic and leather. Everything was pristine and sleek, but he found himself oddly unimpressed. He reached over, brushing his fingers across one of the air vents, only to feel it snap off in his hand.

He held up the broken vent blade with an expression of mild disgust. “Quality stuff, this. How much did this… show pony set you back?”

“Oh, around a hundred thousand pounds,” Lara said nonchalantly, as if she were discussing the weather.

Ivan choked, staring at her in disbelief. “A hundred thousand… for this? This thing’s nothing but a polished turd.”

Lara rolled her eyes, laughing. “Not quite how I’d describe it, but okay.”

He shook his head, casting a critical eye around the Defender’s interior. Now that he was looking more closely, he could see that despite the high-gloss finish, everything looked cheap. “I bet even that Dacia Sandero is better quality than this,” he muttered, barely hiding his distaste.

She smirked, letting him complain as much as he liked. “Look, it’s only been in the shop once, and I’ve had it for eight months. So it can’t be that bad, right?”

“Only once in eight months,” Ivan snorted, then laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh that filled the car. “Let me tell you, Lara, that’s a world record for a car costing over a hundred grand. You’re probably the only person I know who can shell out that much for a maintenance disaster and call it a bargain.”

Lara shot him a teasing look. “Oh yeah? And how many times has your beloved Superb been in the shop since you bought it?”

“Not once,” he said, puffing up a bit. “Say what you want, but at least I don’t have to pay for repairs every few months.”

Lara laughed and raised an eyebrow. “All right, what about that other Škoda of yours? That rusty old Forman spends half its life in your garage, doesn’t it?”

He gave her a mock glare. “The Forman? That old beauty’s thirty years old, and it still runs like a dream. Doesn’t need constant coddling or expensive repairs. All it takes is a screwdriver, maybe a hammer on a bad day. It’ll outlast us both, and then some.”

She grinned, letting him have his victory, and they drove in companionable silence, the Defender humming along the winding road toward her estate. Soon enough, the sprawling lawns of Croft Manor came into view, the grand manor house standing tall and imposing against the horizon.

As they pulled up to the front steps, Lara stepped out of the Defender and turned to him with a welcoming smile. “How about a coffee? You’ll need the caffeine if we’re going to crack the mysteries of those artifacts.”

Ivan climbed out, giving the Defender one last, disdainful look. “One hundred thousand pounds for a shiny tin can that needs a service after a month… I’ll never understand.”

Lara laughed, and they made their way up the steps into the manor, Ivan feeling more intrigued than he’d care to admit about whatever strange artifacts awaited him.

Chapter 3:

Ivan wandered through the grand halls of Croft Manor, his eyes roving over every antique and artifact, still trying to wrap his head around the sheer opulence of the place. For a former detective used to poky offices and dusty filing rooms, it was surreal. Every room seemed to have its own aura, steeped in history and mystery.

But as he turned into a smaller gallery, a particular photograph on the wall caught his eye. It was a candid shot of Lara with Zip and another man. Ivan didn’t recognize him, but something in the man’s face made him think of Alister, the name he’d heard in passing but never fully understood. Curious, he turned to Lara.

“This fellow here… is that Alister?” he asked, his tone careful.

Lara’s smile faded, and she looked away, a flash of sadness clouding her expression. Her eyes grew misty, and Ivan immediately regretted asking.

“Sorry,” he said softly. “Didn’t mean to bring it up.”

She gave a small nod, clearing her throat. “No, it’s… fine. Maybe… some other time.”

Ivan shifted his gaze back to the artifacts, giving her a moment to compose herself. Four objects, each intricately designed and pulsing with a kind of mystic energy, lay on the table before him. Each was unique: an ornate hourglass etched with symbols he couldn’t decipher, a small jade amulet in the shape of an eagle, a fragment of an ancient mirror, and a dagger with mysterious runes engraved along its hilt.

“These pieces,” Lara began, regaining her usual poise, “they’re more than just artifacts. They’re part of a set… each one linked to time. I have reason to believe they might allow us to… well, travel.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, giving her a skeptical look. “Travel? You mean, like… a time machine?”

“Precisely,” Lara replied, her eyes bright with excitement. “I think they could take us into the past or, perhaps, the near future. I can’t say for sure, but… it would be groundbreaking if true.”

Ivan gave her a wary glance. “And how, exactly, do you plan on testing this theory?”

As he spoke, Lara stepped back and slipped off to change. Moments later, she returned in fresh clothes, looking every bit the adventurer. She grinned at him. “We’re going to take my Land Rover out for a spin, see what these artifacts are capable of. Don’t worry, it’ll be fun. Just a little road trip with a twist.”

He raised an eyebrow and snickered. “Fun? A time-traveling road trip in a Land Rover? You know, if we’re risking our necks in some other era, maybe we could aim for something a bit… sturdier.”

She laughed, giving him a light shove. “Oh, come on, Ivan. Give the poor Defender a chance!”

He shook his head with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Fine, fine. But if it breaks down mid-journey, I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so.’ Besides,” he added, “before we do anything drastic, why don’t you come by my place? I’ve got a little surprise for you… something I’ve been working on. All handmade, of course. Figured I’d put my free time to use.”

Intrigued, Lara nodded, then gave him a curious look. “By the way, Ivan, where’s your other pistol? You only had one with you on the last expedition, and that’s… unlike you.”

He chuckled softly, evading her gaze. “Don’t think I’ll be needing it anymore.”

Something in his tone made her pause, but she chose not to press further. Instead, she picked up the artifacts carefully, packed them into a secure case, and nodded toward the door.

“All right, Ivan,” she said, smiling. “Let’s head out.”

They made their way back to the Defender, ready to leave Croft Manor behind as they set off on yet another unpredictable adventure.

Chapter 4:

As they cruised down the road, Ivan’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Mind if I take a turn behind the wheel?”

Lara glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. She couldn’t resist a sly smile. “Oh, by all means. Let’s see how a former inspector handles the Defender.”

Ivan grinned, sliding over into the driver’s seat as they swapped places. For a moment, he savored the feel of the rugged machine under his hands. But his enthusiasm quickly waned as he began to steer, realizing that the Defender’s handling was disturbingly smooth—too smooth. The power steering responded to the lightest touch, and the automatic transmission eliminated any need for shifting.

“This is it?” he muttered, deflating a little. “I barely even need to hold the wheel… It’s like I’m driving a high-end purse on wheels.”

Lara laughed, thoroughly amused. “What were you expecting? This isn’t exactly a war relic.”

Ivan’s disapproving snort said it all. “I was expecting a Land Rover, not a luxury handbag. This thing practically drives itself.” He shook his head. “No way am I trusting this glorified purse on our journey.”

When they finally parked outside Ivan’s flat, he turned to her. “I’ll make us some tea. Can’t let a guest go thirsty,” he added, with a mockingly aristocratic air.

While Lara waited in the small but cozy living room, Ivan rummaged through a nearby cabinet. Moments later, he returned with two polished boxes, each marked with the emblem of Magnum Research. He placed them in front of her with a little flourish.

Curious, Lara opened the first box, only to blink in surprise as she took in the sleek, gleaming Desert Eagle inside, plated in a shimmering coat of gold. She opened the second box to reveal its twin.

“Ivan… these are incredible!” She glanced up at him, grateful but also puzzled. “But why go through all this trouble? And why refuse the Defender?”

He crossed his arms, a smirk playing at his lips. “Because, Lara, modern cars with all their fancy electronics can be hacked by a halfwit with a laptop. We’re better off with something that doesn’t rely on technology. The Škoda Forman, on the other hand? Analog to the bone. And these,” he gestured toward the pistols, “will come in handy if things get rough.”

Lara sighed, but there was a reluctant acceptance in her nod. “All right, if you insist… though I’ll admit, I’m not entirely sold on the Forman.”

Ivan shrugged, unaffected. “Trust me, it’s a tank. And with a screwdriver and a hammer, I can fix anything that breaks. Try that with your Defender,” he teased, smirking.

He reached back into his closet and pulled out an old but well-maintained Karabiner 98k rifle, equipped with a Grabenmagazin for added capacity. He tucked it into a case, along with an old-school radio pack. “Just a bit of insurance,” he said, packing his gear.

“I’m ready.”

They made their way back outside, Lara reluctantly returning to her Defender while Ivan hopped into the Forman. Engines started, and with a mutual nod, they set off side by side, each vehicle carrying its own quirks and secrets, ready for whatever awaited them on this strange journey.

Chapter 5:

First stop:

As they drove through the rugged Welsh landscape, the night around them was eerily quiet, with mist curling over the narrow road like ghostly fingers. The silence was broken only by the sound of their tires crunching against gravel. Suddenly, an unnatural glow flickered in the corner of Lara’s vision. Flames licked up from the road, dancing alongside the vehicle. Ivan’s eyes darted nervously between the road and the burning mirage surrounding them.

“Is this some kind of trick?” Ivan muttered, gripping the wheel tightly, sweat trickling down his brow. Lara didn’t respond, but her hand moved reflexively toward her holstered pistol. Before they could react further, a sudden blinding flash enveloped them, and the car skidded to a halt as the landscape around them changed.

They found themselves in front of Lara’s estate. But this was no ordinary moment. The manor was engulfed in flames, the inferno roaring into the night as the heat lashed at them. The scent of burning wood and the acrid sting of smoke filled the air. Lara’s heart dropped, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she took in the sight. She knew this moment all too well.

Ivan, eyes wide and bewildered, turned to her, “What the hell is going on, Lara?”

“Just follow me!” she shouted, urgency pressing in on her every word.

The two raced across the scorched lawn, weaving between chunks of debris and patches of smoldering grass. Inside the estate, chaos reigned. The once-grand hall was now a hellscape of collapsing beams and blackened stone. Then, in the dim light, they saw it. Lara, years younger, cradling Alister’s limp body, her face streaked with soot and silent tears. The present-day Lara froze, caught between agony and disbelief.

Ivan, however, caught sight of something that made his blood run cold: a shadow moving with unnatural precision. It was the Doppelgänger, a twisted echo of Lara herself. Memories of the being from Atlantis surged forward in Ivan’s mind, and without hesitation, he seized his rifle—an old Kar 98k modified with a Grabenmagazin. The Doppelgänger advanced, eyes devoid of empathy, and before it could strike, Ivan lunged, managing to grip it by the throat.

The two struggled in a violent embrace, muscles straining, as Ivan’s heart thundered in his chest. He felt the cold, unyielding skin beneath his fingers and squeezed with every ounce of strength left in him. The creature’s resistance faltered, and as it crumpled, Ivan’s shaking hands let go of the rifle. The weapon hit the floor with a metallic clatter and discharged, the gunshot ringing out like a clarion call.

Both Laras—past and present—flinched and turned, eyes locking in stunned silence. The present-day Lara moved first, meeting her past self’s gaze. The younger Lara, still holding Alister, was pale, eyes wide with confusion and horror.

“What happens now that you killed the Doppelgänger?” Ivan asked, breathing heavily, sweat mixing with the grime on his face.

The younger Lara answered first, her voice brittle and edged with dread, “It’s a disaster.”

The current Lara nodded, echoing the sentiment, “We’ve disrupted everything.”

The manor groaned as beams began to splinter above them, sending showers of embers. They had to leave. Now.

“Move!” Lara shouted, racing toward the entrance. She jumped into the driver’s seat of her Land Rover, but as she turned the key, it stuttered, choking on its last breath. “No, no, no!” she cursed, slamming the dashboard.

“Get over here!” Ivan yelled, beckoning her to his Forman, the engine already revving with anticipation. Without hesitation, both Laras dashed toward the car, the younger one following closely behind, cheeks streaked with a mix of sweat and soot. They clambered inside, the air thick with urgency as Ivan punched the gas, and the vehicle lurched forward, tearing them away from the collapsing inferno.

For a moment, only the roar of the engine and their ragged breaths filled the silence. Ivan finally broke it, his voice rough. “That was Alister, wasn’t it?"

The current Lara looked back at her past self, now slumped against the seat, her eyes unfocused and hollow. “Yes,” she whispered, the pain raw in her tone. “And now, we have to face the consequences of what we’ve just done.”

As the burning manor receded in the rearview mirror, the weight of their actions settled over them, heavier than any flame or memory.

Chapter 6:

Second destination

As Ivan’s Škoda Forman sped away from the burning estate, the crackling of flames and the roaring of the engine filled the silence. Orange reflections of fire flickered on the rear window, casting erratic shadows inside the car. The tense quiet was interrupted only by the occasional jolt as the car hit bumps on the old road.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Young Lara spoke up from the back seat, her voice a mix of disbelief and humor as she took in the interior of the vehicle. “Is this really your car, or is this some kind of bad joke?”

Ivan shot a glance at the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing in mock indignation. “It’s old, but it does the job,” he muttered, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Present-day Lara allowed herself a small, weary smile as she watched the exchange.

Young Lara leaned forward, curiosity gleaming in her eyes despite the chaos they’d just left behind. “Who is Ivan, anyway? And why did we just flee my own manor with him?”

Present-day Lara sighed, her eyes focused on the winding road ahead, dotted with shadows and the remnants of smoke. “It’s a long story. We met when I somehow ended up in 1988, in what was then Czechoslovakia. I had a mission—to steal the Philosopher’s Stone. Back then, Ivan was an investigator for the state security forces, the Veřejná bezpečnost.”

Ivan smirked at the memory, his expression caught between nostalgia and tension. “We first crossed paths in 1989,” Lara continued, “when I was desperately trying to evade capture by leaping into the frigid waters of the Slapy reservoir. Ivan was off-duty, fishing nearby, and he spotted me.”

Young Lara’s brows shot up. “And he just… let you go?”

“Not exactly,” Ivan interjected, his voice low and gravelly. “I tried negotiating, even hacked into her radio to convince her to surrender. But she had other plans.”

A hint of a smile played on present-day Lara’s lips. “He didn’t expect me to fight back the way I did. But when things got dangerous, Ivan saved my life. We became… reluctant allies, and then friends.”

Before the conversation could continue, the familiar crackle of flames erupted beneath them. Without warning, the Forman shuddered violently, and fire surged up from beneath the chassis. The searing heat enveloped the car, and in a heartbeat, everything was consumed by light.

When the light faded, the world around them transformed. The vibrant colors of the night were replaced with shades of black, white, and muted gray. The air felt colder, harsher. Ivan’s eyes widened as he took in their surroundings: the bleak, rocky terrain, the looming guard towers, and the oppressive silence.

He exhaled shakily, a deep frown forming. “I know this place,” he whispered. “It’s Jáchymov. And it’s 1956.”

Lara’s heart clenched at the revelation, and young Lara’s face went pale as she pieced together the significance of their new reality—a time and place steeped in suffering and history that Ivan knew all too well.

Chapter 7:

Ivan drove in silence, his gaze fixed on the bleak landscape rushing past. Thoughts swirled in his mind, memories and emotions merging into an almost unbearable weight. The world around them was drained of color, cast in stark black and white. Both Laras sat in the car, confusion etched across their faces as the tension grew thicker with each passing moment.

Young Lara glanced at the rigid set of Ivan’s jaw and the way his hands trembled slightly on the steering wheel. “Where are we going?” she finally asked, but the question hung in the air unanswered. Present-day Lara watched Ivan closely, understanding that he was battling ghosts from his past.

Suddenly, a vast complex loomed ahead—the dark silhouette of a mine, unmistakably the Uranium mine. As they approached, the ominous sight of a Praga RN truck caught their attention. The vehicle rolled past them, its cargo unmistakable: lifeless bodies stacked like forgotten cargo. Ivan’s breath caught in his throat, but a quick, desperate scan of the faces told him what he needed to know—his father was not among them. Relief was brief and hollow.

They continued driving until the vehicle rolled to a stop at the entrance to the mine. Ivan stepped out, his boots crunching against the gravel, heart pounding so loudly he thought the others must hear it. The younger Lara followed, eyes wide with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The moment they saw him, Ivan’s entire body seemed to stiffen.

On the ground, emaciated, exhausted, and motionless, lay Ivan’s father. His gaunt frame barely resembled the proud man Ivan remembered. Tears welled up in Ivan’s eyes, blurring the sight as the painful realization crashed over him.

Present-day Lara stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm before pulling him into a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice soft but heavy with understanding.

Young Lara, taken aback by the raw emotion, asked cautiously, “Who is he?”

Ivan’s voice broke as he replied, “My father.”

The moment was cut short by the sharp glances of nearby guards. Suspicion clouded their eyes, and one began shouting in harsh, clipped commands. Ivan’s instincts kicked in. He pulled away, motioning to the Laras to get back into the car.

“Move, now!” he urged, and without hesitation, they piled into the Forman. The engine roared to life, and gravel flew as the tires spun, propelling them away from the mine just as the guards started their pursuit.

Before they could even catch their breath, the world shimmered and twisted around them once more. The searing heat of the chase dissolved, replaced by the cold, oppressive air of a new setting. The car rolled to a stop outside a building that Ivan knew all too well—the so-called Domeček, an infamous interrogation site in Prague, known for its brutality in the communist era.

The year was 1984. Ivan’s face hardened, a shadow crossing his features. He knew what had happened here, and a chill crept down his spine.

Chapter 8:

Third destination:

The sudden shift to the cobbled streets of old Prague left both Laras disoriented. The younger Lara’s eyes widened as she took in the Gothic spires, narrow alleyways, and stone buildings, their facades steeped in centuries of history. The city seemed both imposing and enchanting, like a forgotten tale brought to life.

Present-day Lara quickly pieced together where they were. The familiar chill of foreboding settled in her chest as she glanced at Ivan. He stood by the window of a derelict building, his jaw set, eyes distant. The Laras exchanged a glance before approaching him.

“What is it?” Young Lara asked, but Ivan didn’t answer. He was staring into a room dimly lit by a flickering bulb. As they peered in, the sight sent a shiver down both their spines.

Two men stood over a bloodied body slumped on the cold, cracked floor. The man’s face, partially obscured by bruises and streaks of blood, looked uncannily like Ivan, though with fewer gray hairs and eyes that still held the defiance of youth. One of the figures rifled through his pockets and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

Young Lara’s voice faltered as she whispered, “Is that… you?”

Ivan’s eyes hardened, but there was a tremor in his voice as he spoke. “Yes. That was me.”

Present-day Lara, while not entirely surprised, felt the weight of the revelation sink in. Memories she’d pieced together from Ivan’s stories now had a painful, vivid reality. The younger Lara’s expression shifted from confusion to shock as the full gravity of their journey struck her.

A sudden noise—a creak of old hinges and the heavy thud of a door opening—snapped them out of their trance. One of the guards from inside the room turned his head sharply, catching sight of movement outside. “Run,” Ivan commanded, and without a moment’s hesitation, they sprinted back to the Forman.

The engine sputtered as it roared to life, and they sped down the narrow streets, the cobblestones rattling beneath them. The echoes of shouts and the thud of boots faded into the distance. Ivan’s grip on the wheel was white-knuckled, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror as the memory of that night played out once more.

As the adrenaline surged through them, a blinding light enveloped the car, and the world dissolved. When the brilliance subsided, they found themselves on a dirt road surrounded by dense woods. The air was damp with the scent of rain and pine, and a voice on a distant radio announced the year: 1998.

Ivan drew in a shaky breath, the pain of recent memories and old wounds merging with the awareness of where they were now. For the Laras, the year was significant—the time when they were only six years old, marked forever by the death of their mother. Present-day Lara clenched her fists, the reality of their journey becoming even clearer, a journey through personal and collective ghosts.

Chapter 9:

The Forman jolted to a stop on a narrow, icy path surrounded by towering, jagged peaks. The cold, biting wind of the Himalayas whipped against the windows, carrying with it the scent of snow and isolation. All three sat in stunned silence as the reality of their new setting sank in.

Present-day Lara’s eyes grew wide as she scanned the familiar, unforgiving landscape. The memories buried deep within her threatened to resurface, pulling her back to a time she had long tried to forget. Young Lara, on the other hand, sat with a mixture of awe and confusion. The jagged peaks, the snow-capped mountains—it all felt strangely familiar yet impossibly distant.

A sudden movement caught their attention. Just a few meters away, a small figure in a fur-lined coat dashed through the snow, giggling as her dark hair danced in the wind. She was followed by a tall, elegant woman, her face framed by the same chestnut hair that both Laras shared. The woman’s smile was radiant, her eyes full of warmth and love as she called out to the child.

Young Lara’s breath caught in her throat. “Is that… me? And… mother?” The disbelief in her voice was palpable.

Present-day Lara couldn’t tear her eyes away from the scene. Her chest tightened, a mixture of nostalgia and pain sweeping over her as she watched her six-year-old self play, unaware of the fate that loomed over them like the very peaks that surrounded them.

“Yes,” present-day Lara whispered, the word barely audible over the howling wind. “That’s us.”

Ivan stood a few steps behind, the harsh wind biting at his face as he watched the two Laras grapple with the impossible sight. The normally stoic man felt a twinge of helplessness. He knew this moment in Lara’s life—its tragic outcome. The serenity of the snowy scene was a cruel mirage, masking the darkness that would soon follow.

The young girl ran up to her mother, laughter ringing out, clear and pure. The mother bent down, lifting her daughter into a warm embrace. For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still, the scene bathed in a soft, cold light that sparkled off the snow.

Young Lara’s eyes glistened as she took in the sight, unable to suppress the longing that tugged at her. Present-day Lara felt tears prick her eyes as she recalled that day, the joy that would soon turn to horror. She clenched her jaw, fighting back the wave of grief that threatened to engulf her.

Suddenly, a low rumble echoed through the valley, and the serene scene shifted. The smile on their mother’s face faltered, her gaze darting to the mountains above. A distant avalanche, the prelude to a tragedy, began to unfurl in slow, inevitable motion.

“No,” present-day Lara whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek as she instinctively reached out, though she knew it was futile. She had tried for years to push this memory away, but now it stood before her, unavoidable and raw.

Ivan, sensing the shift, moved to stand between the Laras and the vision of their past. “We shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm. But it was too late—the echo of the coming avalanche roared louder, and the scene before them dissolved into a blinding flurry of white.

All that remained was the silence of the present, layered over with the anguish of what had once been.

Chapter 10:

As they stumbled out of the snow, shaking from the cold and the raw echo of memories, Ivan walked to his Forman. His face was pale, but his hands were steady as he pulled out the integrated lighter and flicked it, the small flame reflecting briefly in his eyes. He lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag that sent smoke curling into the frosty air. Both Laras stared at him in disbelief—how could he be so composed when they had barely escaped death?

Ivan exhaled slowly, the smoke merging with the mist of their breath. “My deepest condolences,” he said, his voice rough but sincere. There was a weight behind the words, an acknowledgment of the pain that had just replayed before their eyes. “Now, get in the car.”

The Laras exchanged a glance, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and silent understanding. They slipped into the car, its cold seats only adding to the chill in their bones. Ivan settled behind the wheel, the cigarette still hanging from his lips, its ember glowing faintly as he turned the key. The engine roared to life with surprising ease, but the car didn’t move, stuck in the snow as if bound by unseen chains.

Ivan frowned, fingers tapping the steering wheel in thought. They couldn’t stay here. The mountains whispered with the haunting echo of an avalanche that had already taken too much. Then an idea struck him—a risky, almost foolish idea.

“Hold on,” he muttered, shifting the gear into fifth, a move more suited for highway speeds than the uneven snow of the Himalayas. The engine strained and whined, the Forman shuddering as it pushed against the icy grip holding it in place.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sudden lurch, the car jolted, the air around them shimmering like heat waves on a summer’s day. The world outside blurred, the snowy landscape twisting and distorting until it was replaced by a dense fog. The pressure in the cabin changed, as if reality itself had been warped and pulled.

When the fog lifted, the engine’s growl turned steady, and the familiar sound of rushing water reached their ears. They were no longer in the Himalayas. The Forman stood on the edge of a road that overlooked a vast expanse of water—the Slapy Reservoir. The October air was cool but devoid of the biting chill they had just left behind.

Ivan’s eyes darted to the surroundings, a muscle in his jaw tightening. He knew this place, and so did present-day Lara. The year was 1989, and the date was one that haunted both of them. For Ivan, it was a day that marked the line between an old life and a new one; for Lara, it was a chapter tied to survival and the start of an unlikely alliance.

Young Lara looked out, her gaze trying to make sense of the serene yet loaded scene. Present-day Lara, meanwhile, gripped the dashboard, heart thudding as the familiarity of it all swept over her like the water below.

Ivan took one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it out the window. The ember hissed as it hit the damp earth. “We’re here,” he said, more to himself than to them, as the echoes of past choices began to stir around them.

Chapter 11:

Fourth destination

The October mist hung heavy over the Slapy Reservoir as Ivan from 1989 stood by his red Škoda 120 GLS, bewildered, a fishing tackle box in one hand and an MP 40 in the other. Across the lake, scuba Lara had just submerged, trying to escape suspicion, but she hadn’t resurfaced. Present-day Ivan and Lara, watching from the old Forman, could sense that something was off. Present-day Lara knew this day all too well; she held her breath as they watched the unfolding drama.

Young Lara, seated beside them in the Forman, looked on with widening eyes. “Is… is she okay?” she whispered, glancing between the two older versions of herself and Ivan. “She was down there a long time.”

Present-day Lara leaned forward, concern growing. “She was looking for something… something important, but she got in over her head.”

“Oh, you mean this Philosopher’s Stone business?” Ivan replied with a smirk, though his own eyes followed the scene with unease.

On the lake, the ripple of water gave no sign of scuba Lara. Ivan from 1989, realizing something was wrong, dropped the MP 40 and ran toward a nearby rowboat. In a frantic search, he rowed back and forth, shouting, “Halo! Hallo, are you there? Can you hear me?”

Present-day Lara sighed, and young Lara clutched her hands together, whispering, “Please come up, please come up…”

Finally, a VB diving team arrived on the scene, jumping into the cold waters and vanishing beneath the surface. After a few tense moments, they emerged, carrying scuba Lara’s limp form. The officers quickly brought her to shore, where they wrapped her in blankets, preparing to take her to the hospital as her pulse returned faintly.

Watching all this, young Lara’s face showed a mix of fear and disbelief. “That’s… that’s me.”

“Yes, it is,” present-day Lara replied softly, a tinge of sadness in her voice. She watched as the ambulance took scuba Lara away, sirens echoing over the misty lake. “I had to learn the hard way back then. I thought finding the Philosopher’s Stone would be simple. Instead, the whole army, police, and even Pioneer scouts were looking for me.”

Young Lara turned back to her older self, her voice shaking. “Is she going to be okay?”

Present-day Ivan reached over and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “She’s tougher than you think,” he said with a smile.

Present-day Lara, unable to watch any longer, sighed and rested her head on Ivan’s shoulder, finding comfort in his steady presence. They shared a quiet look, and without a word, Ivan started the Forman’s engine. With a roar and a burst of flames, the car launched them into another time jump, the world draining to black and white as they arrived in 1960s Czechoslovakia.

Chapter 12:

Fifth destinaton

With a violent jolt and a blast of thick smoke, the Forman shuddered to a halt on the outskirts of Mladá Boleslav. Ivan’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the landscape around him—the year was 1969. He could hear a distant rumble, an ominous sound he knew all too well.

“Not here… not now…” Ivan murmured, gripping the steering wheel tightly as his gaze locked on the railroad crossing up ahead. The barriers were open, and he could hear the sound of an approaching train. His knuckles turned white as he saw an old bus with a trailer slowly making its way across the tracks.

“Oh no…” he whispered, a horrible memory flooding back.

The bus had just reached the center of the crossing when the train barreled into it. Ivan’s heart sank as he watched the collision unfold in slow motion, the massive impact crushing the bus like a tin can. Without a second thought, he threw open the Forman’s door and sprinted toward the wreckage, both Laras following in stunned silence.

Smoke and twisted metal filled the air, and Ivan forced his way through the devastation, helping survivors stagger out of the wreckage and offering what comfort he could. The cries of the injured and the silence of the dead blended into a surreal blur. Ivan’s gaze scanned the bodies, his heart pounding harder with each step.

Then he saw her. His mother, lying motionless among the twisted wreckage. A deep sadness settled over him as he crouched down beside her. Gently, he reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her face.

“I love you, Mom,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I… I wish things had been different.” He closed his eyes, letting the pain wash over him as he said his silent goodbye.

In the distance, a familiar engine sputtered to life—a Wartburg, making its way toward the crossing. Ivan’s eyes widened in realization.

“Come on, we have to go!” he whispered urgently to Lara and young Lara, pulling himself together. They followed him as he hurried back to the Forman, casting a last look at the devastation behind them.

Just as they reached the Forman, Ivan looked back, catching sight of a young man stepping out of the Wartburg—himself, at age 19, wearing the crisp uniform of the Czechoslovak military. The young man’s face was full of horror as he took in the wreckage, completely unaware that his future self was watching him from afar.

Both Laras paused, glancing at 19-year-old Ivan in awe.

“He was a good-looking young lad,” murmured present-day Lara with a soft smile.

“I see where he got it from,” young Lara added, her face flushed.

Ivan barely managed a weak smile. “That’s… that’s why we’re here,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “This accident… it changed everything for me. I lost her that day. It was the beginning of everything that made me who I am.”

Present-day Lara put a gentle hand on his shoulder, understanding the weight of the moment. Young Lara, meanwhile, looked at him with a mixture of admiration and sympathy, not quite understanding everything but sensing the gravity of it all.

Ivan took one last look at the 19-year-old version of himself before climbing back into the Forman.

Chapter 13:

With a shudder and a flash, the Forman jolted forward, pulling Ivan, present-day Lara, and young Lara away from the haunting past of 1969 and depositing them in front of the grand estate in the present day. As they climbed out of the car, young Lara’s jaw dropped, her gaze sweeping over the stately manor. The last time she had seen it, the mansion had been in ruins, consumed by flames. Yet here it stood, fully restored and gleaming in the afternoon light, with gardens flourishing around it.

Young Lara turned to present-day Lara, her eyes wide. “How… how did you manage to fix it?”

Present-day Lara’s face softened with a faint, proud smile. “It took years of work—and more than a few miracles. But I couldn’t let it be forgotten. It was part of my family’s history, and I knew I had to rebuild it. Piece by piece, I put it back together.”

Young Lara looked down, her expression thoughtful. She couldn’t help but feel a tinge of awe for her future self’s determination, for the strength she seemed to have found despite all the trials.

Ivan watched the two of them quietly, sensing the unspoken connection between them. “You both have that grit, you know,” he said. “It’s no wonder you’ve survived so many… adventures.”

Young Lara looked back at the manor, then at Ivan and her future self. “I… I always thought I’d lost everything when it burned down,” she admitted, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “But now, seeing it here, knowing that it could be saved… it gives me hope.”

Present-day Lara smiled gently, giving young Lara’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “You haven’t lost everything. Sometimes, things fall apart so that we can rebuild them stronger.”

With a newfound sense of peace, the three of them stepped toward the grand entrance. Inside, the warmth of the restored mansion enveloped them, a testament to the resilience of those who refused to give up. And as they settled into the comfortable surroundings, they shared a quiet moment, knowing that whatever challenges awaited them, they could face them together.

Chapter 14:

With a violent jolt, the Forman threw them forward, and suddenly, Ivan, present-day Lara, and young Lara found themselves on the deck of a sleek, formidable yacht—Amanda’s notorious vessel. The sound of gunfire and shouting filled the air, cutting through the breeze, and present-day Ivan and Lara exchanged knowing glances. They recognized this day all too well.

Just a few feet ahead, they saw themselves—or rather, a version of themselves from exactly one year ago—caught up in a brutal battle with a group of mercenaries. Lara, in her usual athletic style, was leaping and rolling between crates, her movements fluid and precise. She fired her pistols with deadly accuracy, while present-day Ivan watched himself from a year earlier taking down enemies with brutal efficiency—shots fired in rapid succession, the sound of rifle butts meeting bone, and quick, calculated moves to disarm and silence.

Young Lara, standing behind them, watched the scene unfold with wide eyes. She had seen herself in plenty of dangerous situations, but this was something else. Her gaze was fixed on Ivan, who moved through the chaos like a seasoned warrior, his expression cold and focused. She saw him strike down one mercenary with the butt of his rifle, then pull out a blade to silently dispatch another who was sneaking up behind him.

“That’s… that’s you?” young Lara stammered, glancing up at present-day Ivan with a mix of shock and, perhaps, a hint of admiration.

Present-day Ivan shrugged, watching himself with a slightly amused expression. “Wasn’t always a history buff, you know. Some things… they don’t just leave you.”

Meanwhile, a year-younger Lara darted between fallen enemies, grabbing hold of a glimmering artifact she’d spotted near a stack of supplies. She held it up triumphantly, her eyes gleaming.

“I’ve got it, Ivan!” she shouted to her partner in action, who nodded with a smirk as they retreated toward Lara’s sleek yacht.

As the mercenaries’ numbers dwindled and the last of them fell, Ivan and Lara a year ago finally sprinted across the deck, leaping onto the safety of the smaller boat. Their victory evident, they sped away, leaving Amanda’s devastated vessel behind.

The deck now empty, present-day Ivan pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket, lit one up, and leaned against the Forman, exhaling a steady stream of smoke into the sea air. From the glove compartment, he reached for a bag of peanuts and cracked one open with a small, satisfied crunch.

“Didn’t think I’d end up watching myself play action hero,” he said, shaking his head as he offered the bag to present-day Lara.

She took a peanut, popping it into her mouth with a smirk. “Always knew you had a knack for it,” she replied. “Just didn’t realize how much style you put into it.”

Young Lara, still absorbing what she’d just witnessed, shook her head in disbelief. “I never thought… I mean, I knew you had a past, Ivan, but that was…” She paused, struggling for words. “…impressive.”

Present-day Ivan chuckled, tossing another peanut into his mouth. “Guess you get to see a side of me I don’t usually bring up at dinner parties.”

Present-day Lara leaned against him, her gaze drifting over the tranquil sea, the faint scent of gunpowder still lingering in the air. “Looks like we’ve left quite the trail behind us,” she said softly, her tone half-amused, half-somber.

As they stood there in silence, letting the memories settle, the Forman hummed to life on its own, a faint glow surrounding it once more.

“Well,” Ivan said, flicking his cigarette overboard and brushing peanut crumbs from his jacket, “looks like our chariot’s ready.”

They climbed back into the Forman, and with a final flash of light, they were hurtling forward once more—where to, they could only guess.

Chapter 15:

With a jolt and a blinding flash, the Forman skidded to a halt on the deck of a sleek yacht, startling everyone aboard. Ivan, present-day Lara, and young Lara blinked, their eyes adjusting to the bright Mediterranean sun and the calm, rolling waves around them. It took only a moment for them to realize where they were—and when.

Standing on the far side of the deck, a year-younger Lara was adjusting her scuba gear, her gaze intent as she prepared for a dive. A few feet away, a year-younger Ivan was seated, slicing bread and arranging a sizable cutlet of schnitzel on top, blissfully unaware of the unexpected guests just behind him.

Present-day Lara crossed her arms, an amused but faintly annoyed expression crossing her face. Watching her younger self ordering Ivan around sparked memories, both fond and exasperating.

“You hear that?” young Lara teased, nudging present-day Ivan with a smirk. “She really had you wrapped around her finger.”

Ivan chuckled, nudging her back. “Some things never change,” he muttered, but a small grin tugged at his mouth as he watched his younger self meticulously build his sandwich.

“Remember to keep in touch this time,” year-younger Lara said in a firm tone, snapping her dive mask into place. “I don’t want to find out you fell asleep on deck again.”

A year-younger Ivan looked up mid-bite, mouth full. He clicked on the radio strapped to his chest, making a rather garbled, snack-muffled attempt at a reply. “Right, right, got it, got it,” he mumbled, his voice distorted by both his mouthful and the radio.

Present-day Ivan nearly choked with laughter, and young Lara had to stifle her giggles as the memory of exactly what was happening here returned to her.

A few moments later, year-younger Lara slipped gracefully over the yacht's side and disappeared into the clear blue waters of the Mediterranean, her figure soon vanishing into the depths below. The year- younger Ivan, still munching on his sandwich, kept an idle eye on the water’s surface.

Half an hour passed with only the sound of waves lapping against the hull, and the Forman trio waited in silence. Then, finally, they saw movement at the edge of the boat as year-younger Lara pulled herself back up onto the deck, drenched but triumphant, the artifact clutched in her hand.

Unfortunately, she was met by her partner, who—still alert and wary of mercenaries—had a triple-barrel shotgun aimed directly at her.

“Whoa, it’s just me!” she exclaimed, raising her hands.

Her younger self's exasperated voice carried across the deck, just as she realized the gun was pointed at her face. “Honestly, Ivan, were you planning to take me out?”

The present-day trio tried to stifle their laughter as Ivan lowered the gun, blinking in embarrassment. But then, as the younger pair recovered from their shock, their eyes widened, seeing three unexpected figures standing before them—two of whom looked exactly like themselves.

Both younger Ivan and Lara froze, eyes darting from their older counterparts to the vintage Škoda Forman standing inexplicably in the middle of the deck.

“Uh… hello?” young Lara said awkwardly, giving a half-hearted wave to her past self. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Realizing the time paradox they were creating, present-day Ivan quickly slid back into the driver’s seat. “Alright, enough chaos for one day. Let’s not break the space-time continuum.”

With one last look at their younger selves—who remained staring, absolutely dumbstruck—he turned the ignition, and the Forman’s engine roared to life. In a flash of smoke and light, the car shot forward, the yacht and the sun-drenched Mediterranean fading from view as they were pulled back into the present.

Epilogue:

The car rolled to a stop in the evening quiet, and for a moment, none of them moved. Ivan, present-day Lara, and young Lara sat still, letting the reality of their return settle around them. The journey through time had left its mark, and yet here they were, back in the present – but not unchanged.

Lara’s gaze drifted to Ivan, her voice low. “What… what happens to her now?”

Ivan knew the unspoken answer – younger selves left alive were dangerous, walking paradoxes, more trouble than most could risk. But he had seen Lara fight through too much already. He shook his head. “We could… do what’s usually done,” he said, hesitating, “but I don’t want to. Not this time.”

Young Lara, sitting in the back seat, looked between the two of them, her eyes full of uncertainty. “Do what?” she asked, sounding both confused and fearful.

Present-day Lara turned in her seat to face her younger self. She reached out and took her hand. “Nothing, sweetheart. You’re safe,” she promised, even though the pain of what she’d been through was still fresh. “I just think… it’s better if you don’t know all the details.”

Young Lara’s expression softened, though her hands still shook. “But… are you leaving me here? Alone?”

Lara’s heart clenched. She remembered her younger self standing among the charred ruins of her estate, the life she’d known burned to ash. She’d had to rebuild from that devastation, piece by painful piece. But present-day Lara had rebuilt, and now her estate was fully restored, a symbol of strength and resilience. She knew young Lara had that same strength, even if she couldn’t feel it yet.

“No,” Lara said softly, squeezing her hand. “You’re not alone. You’ll have the estate – it’s all yours. You can make it your own, even if it doesn’t feel like that now.” She paused, her voice thick. “And I… I have to go. I’m leaving with him.” She glanced at Ivan, who met her gaze with quiet understanding.

Young Lara’s lip trembled. “Where are you going?”

“Forward,” Lara replied, her voice filled with a certainty she hadn’t felt in years. “I’ve spent too long trapped in the past, living with what’s gone. It’s time to live for what’s ahead.”

Young Lara swallowed, nodding. “Will I ever see you again?”

Present-day Lara managed a smile, though tears were beginning to blur her vision. “Maybe not in the way you expect. But a part of me will always be with you, and you’ll always be a part of me.”

Ivan cleared his throat. “There’s one last thing we need to do,” he said, his tone practical but gentle. He nodded to the bag on the floor by Lara’s feet. “Those artifacts – they’re dangerous. They’ve done nothing but drag us through pain, and they don’t belong in either of our futures.”

Lara looked down at the bag, feeling the weight of the four artifacts within. Each one held memories, secrets, fragments of her struggle – and her survival. She closed her eyes, letting those memories pass through her one last time, then pulled the artifacts out and, one by one, tossed them into a nearby trash bin.

“Goodbye,” she whispered as she watched them fall, finally letting go.

Ivan shut the car’s trunk with a final, definitive click. He turned to young Lara, his gaze steady, though his voice softened. “Take care of yourself, kid. This life isn’t going to be easy, but you’ve got what it takes. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Young Lara nodded, trying to hold back tears. She opened her mouth, as if to say something more, but no words came. Instead, she stood in silence as Ivan and Lara climbed into the car.

Lara rolled down the window, giving her younger self one last look. “Goodbye,” she said, her voice heavy with both sorrow and hope.

Young Lara managed a brave smile through her tears. “Goodbye,” she whispered, her voice almost lost to the wind.

As they drove away, Lara glanced back, watching as young Lara’s figure became a distant shadow in the rearview mirror, finally disappearing. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, leaning back in her seat and reaching for Ivan’s hand. After everything they’d been through, she felt closer to him than ever, bound by the trials they’d faced and by the future they’d chosen to build together.

“Do you think she’ll be alright?” Lara asked softly, her hand intertwined with his.

Ivan squeezed her hand, giving her a reassuring smile. “She’ll make it. She’s got the strength you had when you rebuilt the estate – even if she doesn’t see it yet. She’ll be more than alright.”

The city lights of Hammersmith glowed in the distance, illuminating the streets as they neared Ivan’s apartment. For the first time in years, Lara felt a sense of true freedom. She had her estate, restored and secure, and she was leaving behind the painful relics of her past. But, more than that, she had Ivan – a future, a partner.

As they pulled up in front of the building, Ivan turned to her, his eyes soft. “Ready?”

Lara took a deep breath, meeting his gaze with a strength and peace she hadn’t felt in years. “More than ready.”

Together, they stepped out of the car and walked toward a new beginning, leaving the burdens of the past behind. And as they closed the door, Lara knew they were finally free.