Three weeks earlier.

I hurried down the steps in front of the British Museum, having just finished work for the evening. A sky full of black clouds threatened to pour, so I zipped my black leather jacket tight and pulled the hood up over my head, holding my arms close to my body to keep warm.

I reached my motorbike and pulled my helmet out of my bag. I swung one leg over the seat and kicked the engine on.

"Lara!" a voice called. It was hard to hear over the roar of my bike, but it sounded like someone I knew. "Lara, hold on!"

I pulled my helmet off and shook my head to get my fringe out of my face. I placed it in my lap and turned in the direction the voice was coming from.

"Oh, it's you, Dr. Ravenwood," I said with a smile. Suddenly, large drops of rain began to fall. I held my palms up and looked toward the sky—a devilish storm was coming. "What are you doing out here? You'd better get back indoors before this rain turns into downpour."

"Yes, but only if you join me, Miss Croft!" he waved for me to come with him. "It's urgent. Please, come back inside for a moment. Let's talk over tea."

I wrinkled my forehead, concerned, yet intrigued. "O-okay. Sure, Doctor."

I followed Dr. Ravenwood into his office, and, once inside, relished in the warmth that the fireplace brought to the room. A chill rolled down my back, caused by the sudden bout of heat—it felt amazing after being outside in the misty London cold. I unzipped my jacket and slung it over my arm.

"Oh," Dr. Ravenwood said, rushing over to me. "Let me take care of that for you." He held his hands out, offering to take my jacket for me. I obliged, and he smiled as he took it to hang up on the coatrack.

"Thank you," I said breathily, catching my breath from the quick run up the stairs. "What is this about, sir?" I asked. I was concerned that Dr. Ravenwood was unhappy with my job performance. Having enjoyed my work as a historian on ancient artifacts for several months now, the last thing I wanted was to be fired. Holding a steady job was difficult after the events of Yamatai and Siberia.

"I think you're going to like this," Ravenwood smiled as he sat down in the leather chair behind his desk. I sighed of relief—I wasn't being fired, thank God.

"I was digging through my great-grandfather, Abner's—as well as Doctor Jones'—journals," he continued, pulling out a pile of books as tall as a small child. "…And I found some very interesting research about an artifact from a temple deep within the Lost River Delta." He opened one book to a page covered with scribbling, complete with a drawing of a red jewel. Above it was a sketch of an Indian god that was holding the jewel; its eyes were shut for some reason.

"The 'Jewel of Power,'" I said softly, my eyes scanning the drawing. "The same 'Jewel' that Dr. Jones almost died trying to find back in the 30s?"

"You've got it," Ravenwood said, smiling. "You certainly know your history, Miss Croft."

"It's a well-documented story, Doctor," I said, leaning back in my chair. "But nothing noteworthy came of his efforts. Tourists got lost, Jones got them out. He wanted the find the Jewel, him being a treasure hunter and all, but he was unsuccessful. He claimed the temple had some mystical activity going on, but I personally think he was just dazed and confused after days of wandering through there. You know, hallucinations from exhaustion, dehydration, the like."

Ravenwood looked displeased. "Lara, I thought you, of all people, would be the first to jump at the opportunity to follow in the footsteps of the famous Indiana Jones."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. I'd spent so many years in the shadow of my father, Lord Richard Croft. People still compare me to him to this day; it seemed I would never break free from the shroud of his infamy. Even after my own discoveries and journeys, the name "Croft" was still associated with my father. The last thing I wanted was to be compared to yet another famous archaeologist, no matter how intriguing the story, or how legendary the artifact.

"I don't 'follow in the footsteps' of anyone, Doctor," I said coldly. "And I don't chase fairytales."

He stared blankly at me for several seconds, then leaned back in his chair, which made a crinkly sound as he moved.

"Miss Croft," he began with a heavy sigh. "I apologize for wording it in that way. You're a brilliant archaeologist, and a very adept adventurer, or so I've read. I figured this would be right up your alley and of extreme interest to you."

I sat silent for a moment. "How so?" I asked, still uninterested.

"I understand you're particularly interested in the realm of immortality, yes?"

"Yes, that's right," I said. Just like the man whose shadow I cannot escape, I thought.

"Then you'd be hard-pressed to find a better source of eternal life than the Jewel of Power. Lara, when your father worked with me here at the museum, I saw his never-ending chase for immortality. The Jewel was one of his prime focuses. You see, the deity that resides within the temple, Mara, was said to grant eternal youth to any who traveled to the temple for worship, and did not look into her eyes. The Jewel, being the source of Mara's power, was thus said to contain the power of immortality."

"Why haven't I come across any of this in his research, then?" I questioned him. "I've gone through his studies dozens of times—journals, cassette tapes, news clippings; you name it. I've not once seen anything in his research regarding that temple, nor its supposed jewel."

"You haven't let me finish, Lara. I remember him using my great-grandfather's research as inspiration, as Abner was a big fanatic on the subject as well. Because Abner was constantly traveling between London and Chicago for work, he wouldn't allow Richard to take hold of his research for very long; it remained here at the British Museum. I've only just now managed to find it, Lara. Here—take a look at this."

Ravenwood pulled out another book from the pile, and flipped it open. I gasped, amazed at what I saw. Line after line of my father's distinct handwriting; I would recognize that print anywhere, having studied his writings so many times.

"Dad," I whispered, running my fingers across his writing. I took the book from Ravenwood, my father's voice echoing in my head. It was as if he was sitting right next to me on my bed, telling one of the many fascinating tales of his adventures. I remember being a little girl, yearning to be a great adventurer, too—I was mystified by the ancient cultures, civilizations, and artifacts that he studied and experienced firsthand. His voice spoke of The Jewel of Power, which was said to be hidden deep within the vast caverns of a Bengalese temple (the 'Temple of the Forbidden Eye') and guarded by a vengeful god, Mara. He said he was never able to journey to the temple, but so desperately wished that he could, if only to see for himself if the stories Dr. Jones recounted were true.

"Well?" Ravenwood inquired after I read the pages for several minutes. "What do you think now, Lara?"

"I think…" I started, my voice trembling. "I think I was wrong to doubt you. To doubt your relationship with my father. I've come to learn that he was right about so much—if he thought these stories were true, I've no reason to believe otherwise. His instincts haven't let me down yet."

He clasped his hands together and grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Lara, if you go to India, go into that temple, and find that jewel… you'd be the missing link in the unfinished quest of two great explorers. It would be… revolutionary."

I pondered this for a few seconds. On one hand, it would be astounding to be able to visit a place my father dreamed of but never could see himself. But on the other, the chance of finding the artifact was quite slim. I normally liked to do things on my own, but I thought it couldn't hurt to bring another seasoned explorer along.

"Okay," I said confidently. "I'll make the travel arrangements."

"That won't be necessary," he said quickly. "The Museum will fund this expedition—the board is very interested in the possibility of future exhibits and lectures based on your findings."

Great. More lectures in front of hundreds of skeptics. "That's if I find something," I muttered, my back to him. "I'm bringing Drake. He's done this before."

"Drake?!" Ravenwood gasped, standing up and slamming his hands on his desk. "Absolutely not. He's destroyed countless precious artifacts and remnants, Lara. He can't be trusted."

I turned around and stared him down. "Mr. Drake has discovered El Dorado and Shambhala. If anyone has the know-how to track down such a fabled artifact as the Jewel of Power, it's him."

The doctor simply stared back at me, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed. He knew I'd made up my mind, but I could tell that he was still unhappy with my decision.

"I'll make the travel arrangements, doctor," I said again, emphasizing my words.