On a plain in central Turkey, beneath twin mounds of accumulated mudbrick, lies one of the most important and enigmatic settlements ever built: a Neolithic town of thousands of people

On a hillside near Évora in Portugal stands the Almendres Cromlech, nearly a hundred granite stones raised around 6000 BC. Older than Stonehenge and the pyramids, it is Iberia’s greatest megalithic monument.

Centuries before Çatalhöyük, people in Cappadocia already built streetless houses entered through the roof, kept early sheep, and even performed brain surgery. Meet Aşıklı Höyük.

In a quiet French valley stand the tumuli of Bougon, burial mounds raised around 4800 BC. Older than Stonehenge and the pyramids, they reveal how the first farmers honoured their dead in stone.

On a windswept ridge in the Outer Hebrides, thirteen ancient stones ring a towering monolith — a 5,000-year-old monument tied to the moon and the far horizon.

In southern Brittany, more than 3,000 standing stones march in vast rows across the fields — older than Stonehenge, older than the pyramids, and still unexplained.

In central Turkey, thousands of people once lived in a honeycomb town with no streets, entering their homes through the roof and burying their dead beneath the floor. Meet Çatalhöyük, one of humanity’s first great experiments in living together.

Overshadowed by Newgrange, the 5,000-year-old passage tomb of Dowth is just as ancient and just as mysterious — a brooding mound that still guards its secrets.

On a drowned Breton island stands Gavrinis, a Neolithic passage tomb whose walls are almost entirely covered in swirling carvings — an artistic masterpiece created around 4000 BCE and then sealed away.

On the Maltese island of Gozo stand the Ġgantija temples, raised around 3600 BC. Among the oldest freestanding structures on Earth, their giant stones were said to be the work of giants.