“Yet I think the ‘myths’ are making a very good attempt at being real. You'd better come see this…”
We all hurried to the ridge, and the caldera beyond it came into view, revealing an evidence that could not be disputed:
The Lost Twin Cities existed outside of legend.
However they had withstood the eons, the spire-topped—and unmistakable—temples of the Rising Sun and of the Setting Moon presently faced us squarely and testified of their own reality. Erected to the glory of an Empire long returned to dust, the proud structures, which none had beheld in a hundred centuries, now vindicated beliefs which we had mocked a minute earlier.
We stood in awed silence, pondering the impossible sight, and I felt our astonishment gradually give way to another feeling: the deeply rooted fear of the mighty past, the dread of an ancient curse that would fall on our heads should we desecrate this site by treading its holy ground. The sense, even, that our serendipitous encounter was not meant to happen, that in disturbing the ruins' eternal sleep we would violate some unspoken Law.
“Actually, we should turn back and forget we ever saw this.”
I admit that my primary source of inspiration here was The Forbidden Planet (definitely one of the best science-fiction movies from that period, and one which has aged rather well).