The window cracked and shattered into a million tiny pieces as someone dressed in all black landed on James’ bedroom floor. He wore a mask that his his face completely. He had a long, silver sword in his hand. The hilt of the sword was as black as night. James stared in fear and awe as the stranger raised his blade to James’ neck. He lunged, but James dodged. Being on track for two years in a row has its advantages sometimes. James long, black hair flew across his face as he jumped. “Who are you?” he shouted. The stranger was silent. He simply lunged at James once more. James grabbed the blade of the sword with his palms. “What do you want from me?”
“James Cartwright,” said the stranger, struggling to get his blade free. “You must come with us. You are requested by our master.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” James shouted.
The stranger managed to free his sword and slashed at James, cutting his face before the teen could get out of the way. It hadn’t occurred to James that the man had said us. He wasn’t alone.