A lone figure stood on a cliff edge in the early morning light, taking in the world around him. The city below had already woken; the endless dunes all around welcomed the rising sun, filling the skies with spectacular oranges and reds. Brilliant sunbursts reflected off the few aircraft entering and leaving the city, their whirling engines carrying through the wind.

The sensation of being high above the world, and the peaceful calm it stirred in him, was the only real feeling he could say was his.

His name was James Island. And he was alone in the world.

Perhaps what made James Island different to most people was that he was born two years earlier. Or so it seemed to him. One day he had just become conscious, born into the world a grown man.

While the only personal knowledge he had of himself was his own name, he knew a great many other things. He could name dozens of planets, species and races. He knew the majority of the galaxy was governed by the Uri-Thuren Council, and of the Armament Restriction Law and the Great Wars that preceded it. Though he could not recall anything of a childhood, a family, or first-hand knowledge of having visited any specific places.

Awaking those two years earlier, James found himself on this very cliff top. Bewildered and disorientated, he’d seen his reflection in a small puddle inside the inner cave system of the mountain; where he’d first met himself. It took all his courage to eventually leave the mountain and venture into the city beyond it.

James had the general functions of an average grown man, an apparent lifelong ability to walk and talk and such, which allowed him to integrate into society fairly successfully. But despite the life he’d made, this cliff edge remained the closest to a real home he’d discovered so far.

He’d awoken with the sun this morning, and travelled to his mountaintop hoping to find some peace and resolution from the horrors of the day before. The image of the man he’d killed had burned into his mind. Those cold eyes still stared at him. James had sometimes wondered what death felt like, even though he hardly knew what it was to be alive.

He called me a Prince… is that even possible? Did he really know me? James felt the welling of tears he was so familiar with, although none flowed then. How can I know anything when I don’t even know myself? That was a thought which passed through him every day.

His temple throbbed, remembering the pain that had erupted within him when he’d gone to that awful, terrible fire world. It felt like that giant figure had crawled into his mind, coursed through his veins, joining him in an endless blackness that reached into his soul.

The size of the hooded figure reminded him of one of the mythological gods of Carnan, sometimes depicted as a great luminous being in books. Had he had a vision of a god?

His book…

James realised earlier that he’d left it in the alley, next to the beggar’s body. Was the body still there, or had someone found him? Perhaps a passer-by. Perhaps a child. Or maybe a patrolling lawman had come across the body and was somehow in the process of tracking James from the book. He fought the urge to vomit, trying to find calm within the usually soothing breeze.

The wavering sun had now cleared the Dusk Mountains that lined the horizon ahead. The southernmost region, The Ten Fingers, looked to James like the knuckles of a giant hand gripping the earth. He thought of them as a god keeping hold of the planet - if there ever was such a thing. He’d been thinking about gods more and more lately, from all his reading, and had wondered if there really were higher powers out there controlling people’s fates. He just wished someone could help him find some answers about himself.

A rustle from behind shook James from his thoughts.

He turned at the sound, losing his footing in the process. He stumbled back, so close to the cliff’s edge that he tumbled off it, and found himself falling.

James instinctively reached out and grabbed onto his beloved cliff. He hung there helplessly, muscles tight and burning. Dust dispersed around him, several tiny stones falling free, and the muddy smell of the mountain filled his nostrils. He tried not to think about the hundreds of feet of rock below him.

A head appeared over the cliff edge.

It belonged to a small figure wearing a wide rimmed pointed hat, which immediately blew off into the open air, revealing ruffled, wavy brown hair.

James had no choice but to grasp the small hand that reached out to him, and with an effort, he was pulled up over the edge.

Scrambling on his knees, James hugged the rocky ground. His heavy breath brought up dust into his face, causing him to cough and heave. He took a moment to master himself, shaking away the lingering tremors of fear from his near fall, before finally seeing the stranger in the morning light.

James recognised the boy as a Voarn; the strange beings he had only read of in books. The young boy’s ears were pointed at the tips, though much less so than his sharply pointed nose. The slant of his large brown eyes gave them a feline quality. A dusty green tunic billowed over his thin frame, baggy trousers tucked into silver longboots, and a short-cape clasped with a silver ornament hung behind him.

James’s eyes were drawn to the large sword on the stranger’s back, which caught his breath. Intricate gold and jet-black engravings adorned the polished hilt. The sheathed blade was as wide as the glistening cross-guard, seeming far too large for the little voarn.

James managed to say, “Thank you,” in a shaky voice. His hands were trembling still, and a shiver ran through him at the thought of falling off the mountain.

Large trembling eyes searched James, falling on his dusty shirt, longshorts, and what must seem like peculiar items on his forearms. The boy held an odd look of puzzlement which intrigued James.

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“Where am I?” the voarn asked finally. His light voice sounded hoarse, as though he hadn’t spoken in a while.

James was taken aback at the question. “Mount Volton.” He had a feeling this wasn’t the answer the stranger was looking for.

“Where…” the boy searched for the words. “What planet?”

James watched him incredulously. “Carnan. You’re in the Carnan Sand Dunes.”

The stranger continued to search the area with a mixture of wonder and confusion. His open-mouthed gaze accentuated his protruding upper teeth.

“Unified Land of Medropon,” James added, finding it odd to explain to someone else where they were. Usually he was the one asking questions that were obvious to others. “Who are you?”

The voarn composed himself and straightened. “My name is Evan Goodheart, of the Illan. I have been looking for you, for you are James Island, are you not? You must be. I have come seeking your help.”

James’s insides went cold. What in the Abyss? Another stranger from my past, right? With this ridiculous thought came the disturbing notion of a stranger claiming to know him, and the cold dead eyes of the beggar stared back at him once again.

“I’d say you got the wrong person,” James said, careful of his words. He realised he was echoing his earlier claim with the beggar, and the thought gave him pause. “You do. But…” but he had to take a chance. “Do you know me?”

“I do not,” Evan admitted. “Though I have… been told of you. I must admit, you do not look much like a saviour in person.”

James recoiled at the sourness and absurdity of the voarn’s words. “Well, that’s greatly kind of you. Though I’m partial to say that’s because I ain’t a saviour.” Crazy person it is, then. This one’s surely a moonbrain. The thought didn’t relax him.

“Impossible.” The voarn’s eyes hardened. “I have been sent on a mission of great importance, requested by the great Thaenos and the Light Gods themselves, and they have named you, James Island, as my aid on this mission. A great many people depend on us.” Evan regarded James with a questioning look. “You must be a formidable warrior, I would imagine.”

“Mission?” Surely this boy was part of some practical joke. It seemed too ridiculous to even contemplate, and at once James could name a number of his colleagues who would have put the little stranger up to the prank.

“I understand this would be hard to believe,” Evan went on. “The Light Council has assured me you are the one to help. If you would just listen—”

“No, you listen.” Enough was enough. “Who’s put you up to this? Was it Pete? That swine.” James strained a laugh, looking around as if embracing this failed joke. “Or Waterman? It was Waterman and Nevalle, weren’t it? As if the sink prank last week weren’t enough. I knew the cooling fan was off.”

“I do not know these people,” the little voarn said with a shake of his head. His well-spoken, high-class manner and honesty to his voice began to make James think he was for real. “I was told of your father and your search for him. It should have been a simple matter of…” he became confused at his own words, seeming to search for the right ones, before his head lowered with defeat.

Any thoughts of this being a joke now left James, and in its place was a disturbing puzzlement that tightened his chest. The voarn’s words stirred an uncomfortable feeling within him; the feeling that he could very well be speaking the truth. But who was this stranger to speak of his father? The beggar man yesterday had mentioned his father too.

“I am afraid I do not know much of what is entailed,” Evan continued, regaining some of his high-class composure. “You may not appear the hero, though I have faith in the gods’ judgement. I must admit I am not much of a guide myself, though perhaps once we find your father, we can begin—”

“Stop!” James cried, waving a hand to hold back the onslaught of absurdity. “Stop. Just… just wait.” This stranger coming along and speaking of something that should be so common to someone as their own father, something James had a discomforting ignorance of, had awoken an angry force within him. An anger that had been boiling for two years. “Who are you?” he demanded, sitting forward now. “What you want from me? What you know of my father? Do you know me? Do you know me!?”

Evan appeared wounded; his shimmering eyes fear stricken.

James mastered himself, feeling like he’d just scolded a small child for not knowing right from wrong. “I… I ain’t getting you. But what… what do you want?”

“I apologise,” Evan said. “I do not rightly understand all of this myself. There was only so much said to me in the room, and most of which I could not fully comprehend. I did not quite understand how I would proceed once I found you. But you must help me. My people depend on us. On me. Many thousands of people. Please, James…” his voice broke. “I cannot do this without you.” When he bowed his head, his whole body began shaking as he whimpered quietly.

James knew the sound. The voarn’s tears echoed what he often felt inside.

A sudden thought struck him, and made his heart race. He considered the possibility that Evan had arrived here, like he himself had done two years earlier. Could whatever had happened to James have happened again?

Although Evan had spoken of past events already; so, he was not exactly like James had been. He may or may not have arrived here like James had two years earlier, but the voarn was lost in an eerily similar way. James now observed the young boy with new eyes, studying his every movement, seeing a mirror of himself.

He considered his next question, almost too afraid of the answer. “How did you get here?”

Red-rimmed eyes looked up at him, and lowered again. “I do not know,” was the defeated response.

An all-too-familiar shiver ran through James. Did it really happen again, then? Was this mountaintop some sort of mystical focal point that—what? Transported… created, people? Maybe James wasn’t the first person this had happened to, and he was now looking at the latest person that had been brought to this place.

He wondered how things could have differed if he’d had someone here when he’d first awoken. Perhaps if Tam had met him on this cliff edge, helped guide him into the city, and saved him from those awful first seasons…

“What do you want from me?” James found himself asking.

Evan shook his head. He wiped the flowing tears, smearing his grimy face even more. “The way I see it, is we can guide each other, as we look for someone that can help us. Someone in your city, below. I was told of you and your search for your father, and that your search will aid my own mission.”

James’s insides twisted. Every time the voarn spoke, he unloaded a fresh headache on him. This strange boy spoke of James’s father like he was just in the next town. Someone who could be found with a simple search.

“I weren’t looking for my father - not exactly.” James decided to leave it at that.

He tried to read Evan’s expression, wondering if the voarn looked like he had done when he first found himself on this mountaintop. Now he was faced with someone who could possibly understand what it felt like to be so lost, someone who could truly know him more than anyone else. He couldn’t turn his back on someone so clearly in need of help; a kind of desperate help only James could understand.

“You’re heading into the city?” James finally asked.

A strong nod. “If that is our path, yes.”

James wasn’t sure he liked the wording of that statement. “I don’t know anything about this mission of yours. But I can help you find your way. For now.”

A great smile spread across Evan’s face. His pronounced upper teeth gleamed. “You would have my eternal gratitude, James Island.”

On his feet now, James helped Evan up, and found his full stature even smaller than he’d first thought. Evan came up to his ribcage, making him likely a little under five feet.

“We are destined for great things, you and I,” Evan told him.

An uncomfortable laugh left James, the absurdity of the situation getting to him. He really didn’t like the way the voarn spoke.

“Let’s start by getting off this mountain,” James simply said.