Seventeen year old James Duncan hurried down the darkened path that led to a small cave he had found just days before. It was past midnight, the sky above him a carpet of blackness mottled with twinkling stars.

He could hardly see his hands before his eyes but he did not care. His feet carried him to his destination and even after he had tripped and fallen a few times – he still kept going. He vowed he would never turn back. So he kept his eyes forward, he kept running, hoping for a better future.

Anything's better than this.

The pounding pain beneath his skull reminded him of the man who called himself his father. The father who punched him repeatedly, the father who had kicked at him even though he was already lying on the floor. The father who had spat at him and wished for his death – but too afraid to carry it out himself.

His mother had left them on James' fifth birthday. Eagerly awaiting presents and a cake, he'd bolted down the stairs into their kitchen to find his father slumped over a hand written letter, his eyes bloodshot.

James' life had been a rollercoaster of emotions. He remembered being happy but the memories of pain and hurt prevailed.

He wanted to escape, no matter the consequences.

The cool air around him made him shiver and he rubbed his bare arms, cursing for forgetting his jacket at home.

"I'll live." He muttered under his breath. He'd packed the few belongings that meant the world to him into a large back pack, now carrying a laptop he'd spend months saving for, a little MP3 player his friend Cassie had given him for his last birthday, a few books he'd found in the cellar of his home – the books belonged to his mother and he'd been excited to find an old diary. He hurried on.

James didn't think his father would follow him; the man was now no doubt too drunk to so much as sit up straight but as soon as morning came, the man would call the police claiming James had run away.

James rolled his eyes and laughed. Of course he'd run away – but this time it was for good. Twelve years of beating was enough. Twelve years of having to lie for the man who called himself his father. Twelve years of being afraid…

James stopped and looked around. He stood in a vast green meadow, tall green trees growing around him. It was only another hour on foot until he reached the cave and there he'd stay until the night was over. He'd walk into town and maybe he'd ask Cassie to help him.

His best friend, the one person who accepted him the way he was. She'd definitely help him. For a moment, he pondered if he should go to her directly but he doubted her parents would want him at their doorstep this late at night.

They didn't like him at all for that matter. Showing up now would just make things worse.

Therefore, he kept going, hugging himself to ward off the cold just a little longer.

The large tree had a small x carved into the stem; James knew he'd arrived at his destination as he moved his long fingers along the fine carving. He turned around and gazed up to a huge rock formation.

Taking a deep breath, he moved forward, climbing up the rock inch after inch, scraping his bare hands in the process. He refused to look down and kept his gaze on the rock before him. His muscles burned as he climbed faster but he ignored the pain, the way he ignored everything and anything that tended to hurt him.

It took only a few minutes until he'd reached the top. He knelt there for a moment, staring into immaculate darkness. The wind around him picked up, tousling his long dark hair, nipping at his bare arms and bruised face.

Locking his jaw, he crawled forward on his hands and knees, barely fitting through the small opening in the rocky surface. Slowly he moved further, using his elbows to hurry along. The air around him smelled stale and there was a scent of mildew and old wood in the air. He tried ignoring it as he crawled on, wincing when he scraped his arm on a protruding piece of stone.

It seemed like endless minutes before he reached forward with his hands and caught a sharp ledge. The stone dug into the soft flesh of his palms but he pulled himself forth nonetheless. There was a sheer drop of a few meters; he stretched his hands out to cushion the drop a little but still he needed to sit back and catch his breath.

After a long moment, he dug through his pants pockets and retrieved a small, silver flashlight. No one would find him here, he was sure of it. Therefore, he sat back and felt content for the first time in months.

Eriadu sat behind her desk and scanned the pages of the large, leather bound book before her. It was an average journal written by an average person so many years ago. Eriadu sat back and let a sigh escape her throat.

"Are you well, Milady?"

She lifted her gaze and smiled weakly, "Yes. Do not worry."

"Are you reading through the prophecy again?" The young aide took a careful step forward, all the while keeping her hands clasped behind her back.

Eriadu nodded, "Yes. The time is near. Is everything prepared?"

"As you ordered, Milady." She paused and Eriadu felt the young woman had more to say.

"Speak, child."

"Are you certain he will come?"

"The prophecy says it to be so. The prophecy has never lied."

"But a man from another world?" The aide asked incredulously and took a step back when Eriadu gave her a fierce look.

"Have you not read the history books? The D'ni and their guilds of writers? The D'ni are our ancestors and they wrote these prophecies. The D'ni – the prophecies – do not lie."

The aide nodded once, "Please forgive me."

"Leave me now. Once everything is prepared I will join you."

"Milady." She turned on her heels and hurried out of the small hut.

Eriadu jumped to her feet and crossed her arms across her chest. She was certain the prophecies were precise and correct. Come next moon their savior would arrive. She was aching to meet him, for she had dreamt of him.

Her dreams had never been wrong.

James opened his eyes and for a very long moment, he couldn't remember where he was. He breathed a sigh of relief when memories of his father coursed through his mind – he'd wandered back to the cave.

He'd fallen asleep and he'd had the strangest dream…

A flash of light from the corner of his eye interrupted his line of thought. James frowned as he turned his head towards the anomaly. Whatever it had been was now gone.

James searched for the small flashlight he'd laid beside his backpack and thumbed it on. His eyes widened just a bit as he saw a large, dark brown book, which he was certain, hadn't been there before. James was an avid reader and he loved books, especially the antiques – he would have remembered this book.

He knelt down beside it, using his fingers to gently stroke along the soft leather. Without a further thought, he picked it up and sat down, cradling the heavy antique book on his lap. The writing on the front was something he'd never seen before. Intricate designs with swirls and loops – the symbol was beautiful and he tried his best to memorize it.

He opened the book, trailing his fingers down the first page. When he turn to the second page, he gasped and let the flashlight fall to the ground.

It seemed to him as if he were looking through a window. A single picture in the middle of the page showed a vast desert landscape with a beautiful bright blue sky and white clouds. The picture shifted to show small stone buildings and huts settled around a large, blue lake. The scenery through the moving window was beautiful.

James closed his eyes for a second, thinking that his mind was playing tricks on him. When he opened his dark eyes again the picture still showed him a magnificent landscape of nature. In the corner of the window, he could actually see trees!

James pushed the book away and scooted back to where he'd left his pack. He swallowed a few times, all the while staring at the book.

Touch it.

His heartbeat picked up as he heard the words echoing through his mind. The urge to pick up the book and touch the window grew stronger with every passing second.

"This can't be real." He whispered.

Touch it.

"I'm losing my mind."

James moved away from the book until his back hit the stonewall. He held his backpack to his chest, grabbing at it as if it were the one thing to keep him sane.

You must touch it. It is meant to be.

"Who…what are you?"

It is meant to be.

"I'm talking to a book? I'm going crazy. Yeah, that's it."

Touch it.

"Stop it!" James shouted, clutching at his backpack.

It is meant to be.

The voice in his head grew louder until he heard the words as a scream, almost a painful wail.

It is meant to be. It is meant to be. It is meant to be.

James covered his ears with both his hands, hoping to block out the voices. They sounded angry and desperate – hurt and pained.

"Just like me." He hissed between his teeth.

Touch. Now.

"No!" The urge to move forward and grasp the large book in his hands grew stronger and suddenly he felt himself move towards it. Still clutching his backpack, he crawled on his hands and knees, the book seemingly pulsing with light.

The page with the open window glowed in the darkness, calling him, beckoning him to hurry.

"This is insane. This is can't be happening."

It is meant to be.

"What is meant to be?"

Destiny.

James halted again and took a deep breath, "Maybe this is just a dream?" He swallowed back a lump that was forming in his throat, "But anything and anywhere is better than here, right?"

Touch. It is meant to be.

With one hand still grasping his backpack, he reached out with the other and touched the window within the book. With a sickening lurch he felt himself being pulled, almost being pulled apart. There was bright white light all around him and then suddenly a sweet smelling scent in the air.

It was over so suddenly. And James was no longer within the cave.