Ancient Mysteries(Temporary Title?)

                                                                                    Prologue

                                                                                  Don't forget.
                                                                                  Don't let the past die.
                                                                                  Don't fail us.
                                                      Our souls, our eternal and peaceful rest, is in your hands.                                 
                                                                        You promised us. Don't forget...

               

This short message was sealed inside an antique book. It has been long forgotten even as the book has been passed down from generation to generation. Currently this historical book is locked away in an attic. Its pages are coated in dust. Its binding is threatening to fall to pieces. It longs to be discovered. It longs to be fixed. It longs to be read and most importantly, it yearns to be remembered.
               

The words which fill each and every page are immortal. The ink with which these words were imprinted upon the page can never be tainted or tarnished. It can never fade or be wiped away. It will exist quite possibly forever. But why? What is so special about this book? What secrets are hidden within the crisp pages? That must be rediscovered and only one of the family can open this majestic tome and read its contents. It is not a task to be taken lightly however, for once opened, once the mysteries are revealed, the reader will forever have to carry the burden that fills every single page. What lies inside....is a journey.

                                                                                  Chapter One
             
             

The soft hum of mumbled voices lingers beneath the steady beat of the music which is pumping through the headphones. It is a distraction to one who attempts to get through a mountain full of work. It is what brings him out of the intense focus which he forces himself upon himself. It is what he blames for the meager amount of work he has gotten through thus far. Groaning in frustration, he slams his textbook closed, throws down his pen, and glares at the wide variety of men and women around him. "This is supposed to be a library..." he grumbled under his breath while he tossed his things callously into his bag.
               

He had no patience to stay there a minute longer. Unlike many men of his generation, he had to work his ass off, maintain his high GPA or risk getting tossed out of college. He didn't have a choice in the manner. He couldn't go out partying every night. He couldn't drink and drink and drink until the world melted away. He couldn't focus on getting laid. Never. He was Matt Taylor, a good boy who had to study every hour of every day. He was the jewel of his parents' eyes. How could he even think of betraying their trust, their expectations? How could he even think of giving into and breaking under the pressure?
                 

He sighed deeply and increased the volume of his music a considerable amount. He didn't want to hear the never ending stream of petty complaints. He wanted to be blissfully alone, disconnected from his surroundings and the entire world. Maybe then he could forget the throbbing headaches that have been plaguing him for the past couple of sleepless weeks. Maybe then he could forget that he has no social life, no love life, and no confidence in himself. Maybe for one moment he could drown himself in a book, or in music or nature and forget that he was ever a man named Matt Taylor.
                   

Walking along the outside of the campus, he edged further and further away from any and all signs of human life. He kept trekking along until he came to the hiking trail that led up deep into the hills which beautifully encompass the campus. He didn't look back and held no thought towards what lay behind him. Instead, he let the majesty of Nature swallow him whole as he walked deeper into the thick foliage that surrounded him. His pace increased exponentially as time went by and soon he could feel no trace of civilization. So far had he gone, in fact, that he barely noticed when he strayed from the path. He didn't care. He needed this more than he could have possibly known. This isolation was where he was most at home and most at peace.
                   

As he reached the top of one of the many verdant hills, he came to a complete stop. He pulled the headphones from his ears, placed them in his bag, then stood back from the edge and gazed out into the distance. From that height it seemed that nothing bad or wrong could possibly be taking place anywhere in the world. It was far to breathtaking and beautiful to be marred by anything so dark and dreary as death or war. He drank in everything and committed all that attacked his five senses to memory. He would always remember this moment. He would always remember this serene and peace filled atmosphere that made him feel more whole...more himself than anything else had in so very, very long.
                   

  Time flew by without Matt's knowledge or notice at all. He had found a decent spot to sit and then move to lay upon where he had allowed himself to drift away upon the clouds four hours and hours. It felt like freedom and he simply couldn't get enough. Unfortunately, prior to this day, he could not recall the last time he had stopped and let the world pass him by. He adored this sensation and quietly frequently during this time, Matt found himself wishing with all his heart that he could toss out everything and lock himself away in some quiet piece of Nature for the rest of his life. He would very likely die a happy man were this to come to pass.He had no doubts in this matter and thus as he thought more and more upon this wonderful tangent, he could not help but smile warmly and let his heart fly free. 
                   

Eventually, as undoubtedly will happen when one is so deliciously relaxed and warmed by happy thoughts, Matt fell asleep and let the songs of nature be his own personal lullaby. As so often is the case when sleep takes hold, his dreams took flight and all time ceased to exist. At first, in this realm of visions, he was presented with images of his hometown. He saw his golden dog running this way and that through a field littered with leaves. He saw his mom smiling warmly, standing out front to welcome him home at last. These were happy times, happy bits and pieces from his childhood and early adolescent years and thus he clung to them and gathered them deep into his heart. All of this, however fleeting, was too good to last and Matt should have known better.
                   

Like every other time he had departed into his dreams during the past few weeks, the images began to change. Everything grew dark and cold but most terrible of all was the voices. Men, women, children....they were all screaming and the pain in their voices was unbearable. They screamed louder and louder, echoing his name. He could smell ash rising in the air. The flames scorching the earth and charring the bones and he cried out desperate to get them to flee, to save them...to save himself. Tears streamed down his face. Who were they? Why couldn't he stop their endless suffering? The wetness of his tears woke him from his slumber just as much as the racing of his heart did. What was worse was that he, even now that he was awake, couldn't erase the moans and wails from his head. Looking through the darkening sky, Matt cried out to the silence, "Who are you???" These words echoed again and again through the hills so much so that it seemed as if the hills themselves were asking him that very same question in return.
                   

All the way back to his dorm, that haunted question rang in his mind. Who are you? The more times he heard it, the more he began to wonder. Who was he? Was he simply a six ft., average built, twenty year old with darkening brown hair? Did it matter that he was going to college to become a scholar of ancient texts in a handful of languages? Did it matter that he was an only child? His head began to pound and pound and pound in a rhythm that was completely unfathomable. Despite this, that question continued to ring powerfully over the others...who am I?