Wiston picked up the flickering candle and beckoned me over. I followed behind him, our lonely steps filling the cramped library archive corridors.

It smelled of old books and dust, and of wisdom, forgotten. And somewhere in here was the book I was searching for. The book that would determine my fate, and that of my family’s bloodline.

Winston turned left, down a narrow aisle that was stacked to the rafters with aging books with worn covers and curled pages. We sidled past the stacks, squeezing through the cramped spaces in between.

He stopped at a wooden unit made of dark, rustic oak and bent down to open the two cupboard doors at the bottom. It looked like it belonged in a farmhouse kitchen instead of a library archive. But that was typical of this place. To the uneducated eye, it may seem like a junkyard where old books went to die. To those who knew better though, it was a veritable treasure trove.

“Ah!” Winston said, as he pulled out what looked like a pulp fiction paperback. He stood up and wiped the cover on the front of his brown sweater vest, leaving a thick residue of dust where it had made contact with the woolly garment.

“Here it is,” he said, handing the book over to me, “the Book Of The Riddled Lands.” He’d said it in almost a whisper, with such reverence in his voice. And yet, looking at it, it looked just like a cheap pulp fiction book you’d buy at an airport somewhere.

I looked at the cover. The title was in an ornate yellow font, and the artwork had that typical fantasy-style artwork you’d see on fantasy books from back in the seventies or eighties. The corners of the pages had been curled up, and the paper inside had yellowed. And it was small. So small…

“Are you sure-” I began to ask, looking up at him.

“Don’t be fooled by appearances, child. That book is not what it seems. How do you think it’s stayed so well hidden for so long?”

I nodded and looked back at the book. I made a move to open the pages but his gnarly fingers wrapped around my arm and gripped me. I looked up at him and found his wide, gray eyes staring back at me, full of concern.

“Once you do this, you can never go back. You understand?”

There was a pregnant pause as the static wisdom from the thousands of old books piled up around us, hung heavy like a shroud.

“I know. But do I have a choice?”

He sighed and released his grip from my forearm. “No,” he said, looking down at the book wearily, “no, I don’t suppose you do.”

Winston stepped back a few paces, a sad look on his face, his hands clasped in front of him. And with that, I opened the first page of the book and waited for the letters to form.

I sucked in a breath as the writing appeared on the page.

‘Why welcome, Quinn Cole. We have been waiting for you for a very long time.’

Moments passed.

‘Do you wish to enter?’

“Yes.” I said to the open book, my heart thumping in my ears. I was making the right decision, wasn’t I? I didn’t have any other choice.

‘Are you sure? This is the point of no return. Are you sure you wish to enter?‘

I tried to steady the book in my trembling hands.

‘Courage, Quinn, courage.’ I thought to myself. I had to do this. I had to.

Closing my eyes tight, I answered for a second time as clearly as I could, my voice shaking. “Yes, I wish to enter.”

Suddenly, I felt something yank me with a mighty force from my belly button. My entire being felt as though it was being sucked into a tiny pinhole. And as I felt myself shrink, the book’s pages rose and expanded to gigantic proportions to greet me.

That was it. I was entering the Riddled Lands. And whether I would succeed in my quest or not, there was indeed, no going back.

I had no idea about the world I was entering - about the trials and tribulations I would face. But I would try. I would try because my bloodline depended on it. I would try, even if it was the last thing I did.