Sometimes, you just have to say it like it is…and let the chips fall where they may.

They’re going to ask me about the letter, Wendell pondered, shuffling one foot in front of the other. What am I going to say? Heck—what can I say?

The walk to Tamku felt slow and laborious, though the trek through the forest was peaceful enough. It was when they entered the valley that Wendell started to panic. One of fifteen valleys in Sanctuary, Tamku was a painful reminder of Kyliene’s death. With each step closer towards the Prime Gate, the pain, sadness and hesitation grew.

Will this ever become easier?

The market and the adjoining streets were barren now, merchants and families had gone home, retiring for the night. The great crystals, embedded in the waves surrounding the city, glowed dim, simulating nightfall—while the crystal-lined streets and lamp posts burned bright. Wendell couldn’t help searching for hints of the bright red door. A strong urge nagged at him to knock on Moira’s door…to give his condolences to Kyliene’s grandmother and little brother.

But his feet kept shuffling along. He remained silent and followed Chucks lead.

The park was, of course, empty. The trees fluttered in the light breeze, their white bark glowing under the purple and blue lights of the crystal lamp posts. It may have been Wendell’s imagination, but the trees almost looked…sorrowful. Weighed down by the events the night before, leaning inward, towards the center of the park. Mourning.

“This is where it all happened,” Wendell said to himself.

Chuck and Dax remained silent when Wendell stopped in front of the Prime Gate. He drifted from them, wandering around the triangular structure nestled in the grass. The curved, black claws, growing up from the corners of the Gate’s platform, looked horribly out of place. Cold and lifeless—surrounded by the beauty of shade trees, flowers, shrubs and the lush grass.

The blood on the stone ramps was already gone. All evidence of the fight…of the deaths…cleaned away.

No. I have to let this go. I didn’t know what to do. There wasn’t anything I could have done. But he wasn’t convinced.

He stared long and hard at the monolith structure planted in the center of the park. An ancient looking yet it held the power to travel over long distances. How long Wendell had no clue, but the very concept fascinated him. A gateway to…where?

How many of these gates exist? he wondered, resisting his darker thoughts. He didn’t want to think of what happened here, but what might happen. Being the ‘hero’ meant he’d have to travel.  He’d always wanted to see the world. Not exactly the world I was expecting, but hey… Wendell ran a finger over the stone of the ramp. How many of these will I get the opportunity to use? Stepping through a magical doorway to…anywhere.

Wendell let out a sigh.

Daisies grew in thick patches along the base of the Prime Gate, sharing their light, fresh green scent—but it couldn’t mask the feelings of what Wendell had experienced.

Where did that monster come from? The portal had opened from…what was it called? Humär. But where do these monsters actually come from? He knelt down and ran fingers through the very spot where the High Council had used their combined powers to, how did Chuck put it? …throw him back into the melting pot—until nothing had remained. Wendell twirled the grass around his index finger. The blades were tender and green. Not a mark to be found.

“You haven’t said a thing about the letter, son,” interrupted Chuck.

Wendell flinched. He hadn’t even noticed the old man standing over him. He blinked, his mind yanked back from the memories, “What?”

“The letter. You did read it, didn’t you?”

Wendell stood up, brushing his hands together. “Uh…yeah. Yes, I did.”

“Well?” the wizard prodded, guiding him back to the path towards the Keep, “Was there anything important in it—a hint, clue…something that can help us?”

Wendell rubbed the back of his neck. “Not…really. It was pretty much like I thought it would be—a letter from a father to his son. It was filled with apologies. You know, being taken to Earth, leaving this problem on the son’s shoulders, stuff like that.”

“That’s it?” exclaimed Chuck, “No insights? No diagrams or cheat-sheet manual of how to use Ithari? Pshhh—that’s a bummer.” But the wizard kept staring at Wendell, his eyes dropping to look at the smiley face on the black t-shirt.

“Your shirt seems a tad nervous.”

Wendell reacted like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, averting his eyes. The smiley face continued to bite its bottom lip.

“Anything…you’d like to share, perhaps?”

Wrapping his arms uncomfortably around his midsection, Wendell shook his head. “No, not really,” but he had the distinct impression he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Let’s GO!” shouted Dax, “I ain’t takin’ the blame if we’re late!”

Chuck gestured to the path, “After you.”

The white stone of the great castle shimmered like diamonds in the light of the waning crystal sunset. It was the water, Wendell knew—the mists created by the waterfalls on either side of the magnificent structure. The rumbling sound of the falling water grew as they approached, the cool moisture carried on the light breeze. From a distance, the castle looked mystical—floating on the mist itself. But as they walked up the narrow, high arched bridge from the park, he could see the foundation jutting out of the water below. Wendell paid careful attention not to get too close to the edge. Instead, he kept his attention firmly focus on his feet, the height ever ready to steal his balance.

Dax jogged ahead impatiently, across the terrace of the castle and wandering through the Keep. Chuck and Wendell followed in silence. Only the sound of Dax’s flapping feet could be heard, echoing through the vacant corridors and halls. Wendell paid little attention to his surroundings. He followed numbly behind the wizard as they mounted the steps and through the High Elders office. Candles burned on the golden desk, casting shadows that drew his attention momentarily to the descending steps.

Steps that led to the Key.

The cold iron felt good to Wendell as he gripped the railing and ascended the steps.

This I my life now. This is my choice.

He stopped short when they reached the top.

His feet suddenly developed minds of their own, refusing to go on.

What am I afraid of?

The hallway ahead felt too narrow.

There’s no reason to be afraid here.

Too dark.

I can do this. He took several short, sharp breaths—but he couldn’t get the nagging feeling to leave him. Of all the places he’d been in Sanctuary, the Bedurrim was the most intimidating. Wendell wasn’t looking forward to another experience.

Every detail of the chamber’s interior focused on whomever stood at its center. Aptly called ‘the hot spot’ by Dax, even Chuck described the rooms construction to be an intimidation tactic. Enormous sculptures of dragons, wrapping their tales around wood and stone overhead, digging claws into the framework. Their long necks hung down, each with piercing red eyes, focused on the unfortunate soul who stood before the High Council.

I hate those things, staring…

All the while—the real eyes of the Elders, hidden under hoods, judged you in silence.

Chuck noticed his hesitation and walked back for him.

Leaning on his staff, he gave Wendell that calm, grandfatherly smile, then nudged him with an elbow. “You’re going to do just fine, Wendell.”

Wendell nodded, then smiled to himself. “It’s nice to hear you say my name.”

The wizard tilted his head to the side, “Pardon?”

“You don’t say my name often,” he clarified, “You usually say ‘son’ or ‘my boy’…but it’s nice, to hear my name spoken calmly.” He shrugged, “I know it sounds stupid—but every time Dax says it, it sounds like a swear word.”

“Heard that,” snorted Dax, from down the hall.

Chuck smirked. “Hope you don’t mind me calling you ‘son’, I mean. I’ve been blessed, after losing my own family in the war, to help raise a few boys.” He glanced briefly at Dax, who bit off one of his fingernails and spat it onto the floor. “It’s not the same, I realize…but it certainly helps a lonely old man from feeling worse. So, if it makes you uncomfortable, I…”

“It doesn’t,” Wendell cut him off.

Chuck nodded, “Right then. Ready to do this?”

Wendell took a deep breath and held it for as long as he could, before he let it out silently. This is stupid—there’s no reason for me to be nervous. But he still jumped when the double doors opened. The creak of wood, metal scraping against the stone frame and floor, grated against his nerves. Probably another tool to mess with you, Wendell. Ignore it. You’re going to do fine.

Heavy smoke from burning incense rolled out into the hallway. Its sweet, woodsy scent curled around the three of them, overwhelming Wendell’s senses. His eyes watered. Following the wizards lead, Wendell stumbled into the Bedurrim, trying to blink them clear.

Scattered in clusters, the Council was busily engaged in conversations and passionate debate. Black, white and golden robes mixed in small groups. The ring of fire blazed in the alcove above their heads—illuminating the room with an ominous glow. Conversations quickly died down as the child from Earth entered. The sudden hush put Wendell on edge.

Only the High Elder met him with a smile. His hood drawn back to reveal his bald, blue head. The old man walked across the floor to greet him.

“Thank you for coming, Lord Wendell.” His blue within blue eyes were bright and warm, which was a considerable improvement from their last meeting. Wendell attributed this sudden acceptance to his decision to stay and help as the new hero.

“Just…Wendell,” he corrected.

“Of course,” Delnar bowed slightly, then pointed to the bench along the wall. “Please, be seated,” he said, and then called out louder, “we must be about our business.” Pulling his golden hood over his scalp, he took his place in the high-back chair, at the center of the Council.

Each elder silently took their seat—one of fifteen chairs on a raised, semi-circle platform. Five in black robes, five in white and the presiding three, which included the High Elder, were adorned in robes of gold. Only two seats remained unoccupied. They sat with hoods drawn, eyes hidden in obscurity, masked by darkness.

The faceless. The smiley on Wendell’s shirt gulped nervously.

Sitting next to Chuck and Dax, Wendell was relieved to see that he was not the focus of this meeting.

In the center of the Bedurrim, lay the sleeping Elder Tiell. Dressed in his white robes, he rested on a wide cot, supported with pillows—his torso, head and hands wrapped in bandages. His chest rose and fell steadily.

He looks peaceful.

Standing over him was Elder Nurii. An older woman, dressed in black—she was the one who had suggested, at the previous meeting, that the Council perform this particular ritual.

With a nod from the High Elder, she knelt at the side of the cot.

Moving meticulously, Nurii lit the contents of four small pots and placed them at each corner of Tiell’s resting place. Blue, green, white and red smoke pushed through the pinholes of the lids. Her black hood swayed as she whispered the incantation. Ascending, the smoke slowed.

Wendell sat forward, curious.

Within moments, the movement became almost imperceptible. The smoke looked more like four pillars of colored cotton.

Nurii’s voice dropped to a whisper, her hands slowly tracing odd symbols in the air, her fingers gracefully twirling and folding. She placed one within each pillar. Her fingers pushed the fumes aside, creating clean trails within the smoke. As she did so, the symbols held their shape, hovering like obedient specters. As Nurii completed the forming of each symbol, it filled with a white light, as if poured within the smoke.

At the completion of the last symbol, the ring of fire above their heads, abruptly died out.

Only the symbols granted any semblance of light.

The fear Wendell had felt, the apprehension he struggled with in the hallway had vanished. He watched, mesmerized, as the magic before him was performed. Each move of the Elder’s hands, every sway of her shoulders or word which left her lips, held Wendell’s attention.

Fingers outstretched over Tiell’s chest, Nurii threw her hands outward, through the air. The smooth, precise motion sent the smoke billowing across the room, until it crashed against the walls like waves of an ocean against a reef.

Wendell watched small strands of smoke fall from the symbols, like pots bubbling over, dripping onto the sleeping Elder. Strands wiggled along Tiell’s tunic and bandages, like hyperactive worms trying to escape, then quickly vanishing into the Iskari’s skin and robe. What is she doing? But Tiell didn’t flinch or look to be in any form of discomfort—his chest continued to rise and fall steadily. None of the Elders moved or spoke for that matter. Even Chuck and Dax sat perfectly still, watching in silence.

Wendell took it all as a hint and sat back against the wall, observant.

Head bowed, Nurii continued to chant, her pitch now rising, until a single pinpoint of blue light came into existence over Tiell’s brow. It was hardly noticeable at first, but Nurri sang to it. Beckoned to it.

At first it flickered. Then it pulsed, encouraged by the tones and attention given to it. Within moments it began to grow—a soft light, expanding into a halo from the center of Tiell’s forehead. Brighter and brighter it grew with each passing moment.

Reaching out, the Elder Nurii delicately hooked her finger through the ring and pulled it from its position, gently through the air, until it hovered over Tiell’s chest. Leaning forward, Nurii drew a fifth symbol then, at the center of the halo, the motion of her fingers leaving a faint trail.

Satisfied, her thin lips puckered…and she blew.

Like a tiny ripple effect, the halo quivered and stretched.

Larger and larger—expanding outward, across the room the halo rolled…through Nurii, through plants and chairs. It continued to spread, from ripple to wave, across the Bedurrim, leaving a thin, glowing sheet of light in its wake, following the same path as the smoke…until it collided with the circular walls of stone.

Wow. Wendell reached up with a hand to touch the rippling surface—his fingers passing through the light. He felt nothing.

Without warning, thin strands of light shot outward from the symbol at the rings center. Arching high into the air…they exploded. Trees and mountains formed across the doorway, clouds rolled into existence between the rafters. Some fragmented into smaller trails of light—flickering about wildly, transforming into birds, a deer grazing and two squirrels chasing one another across the lower limb of a tree. Even small ants and beetles lumbered over Wendell’s head, carrying their treasures back to their homes.

Amazing! He watched in awe as the environment formed.

A bright light flared overhead. It stretched, then it dulled, moving slowly across the Bedurrim, finally settling in as fog. Within moments, the scene was complete. A forest valley…and in the distance, a platform with three black claws arcing towards the center. Wendell leaned forward from where he sat, squinting. Is that a Prime Gate? Though there were faded images of trees and other plant life in the way, from what he could tell, it looked identical to the one in Sanctuary.

Nurii placed her slim hand over Tiell’s chest and the other across his brow and hairline.

“Tiell,” she addressed him in a calm, yet firm command, “show us your experience at Tämä-Un.”

The sleeping Elder gasped, taking in a sharp, jagged breath. Instantly, the scene within the room changed.

Trees and mountains whipped around the Bedurrim. The room got brighter as the sun rose and quickly arched overhead, taking its place in the sky and then reversing its trajectory. Objects spun about and animals flashed before their eyes…the days activities reversed in moments. Everything moved so fast Wendell clamped his eyes shut, feeling motion sick. When he looked up again, the landscape had settled. The Prime Gate was no longer in view.

Instead, not more than a hundred feet from him, were five vallen. Armored warriors with chain and plate mail, dented and worn. Markings covered the metal and exposed skin of the creatures, though Wendell had no idea what they might mean. The giants stood with their backs to him. Wendell’s hands shook with fear, but his curiosity was so strong, he almost reached out. They look so real! The vallen were in conversation, arguing…but the scene was moving.

Shaking.

The perspective was higher than before.

It took Wendell a moment to realize that everyone in the Bedurrim was looking through Tiell’s perspective. They were looking through the elders eyes, standing on the platform of the Prime Gate itself!

A vallen roared and Wendell nearly fell from his seat.

There’s sound!?

The roar was answered by another and metal scraped against metal. Soldiers, drawing their weapons, ran towards the gate. The room abruptly spun again as Tiell jumped from the platform, sprinting for the tree line.

Wendell sat up straight, heart racing, his attention focused on the sound of the Elder’s panting. He’s got to get out of there—find a place to hide! Occasionally Tiell looked over his shoulder and Wendell could see two of the giants in hot pursuit, barking at one another. Tiell dodged left and right, darting around the foliage while his pursuers barreled through the plant life, gaining ground. The sound of tree branches whipping past, the crunch of leaves and pine needles under foot resounded throughout the Bedurrim. A blue hand whipped into view and the point of view turned to look behind. Roots exploded from the ground, rising high, catching the closest pursuer unaware. The giant bellowed as he hit the ground, tripped by a plant.

The second beast jumped over the obstacle.

The panting grew louder and Wendell noticed some of the elders shifting in their seats. His own pulse quickened. Run, Tiell…RUN! It was several moment before he remembered that the elder was laying right in front of him. Wait, I know how this turns out. He sighed. Okay, calm down, Wendell. It’s alright. He took a deep breath and shook off the fear. This has a good ending.

Trees and shrubbery shot past in blurs.

There’s nowhere to hide. He’s going to get caught.

The movement suddenly stopped. Tiell dropped low behind a cluster of shrubs. Then lower still, he peered under small branches of a plant. The elder held his breath and Wendell did the same. Boots in the distance, pausing, then moving on…stomping through the trees. Wendell smiled, Tiell’s a quick one…even if he is wearing a dress.

Several minutes passed before Tiell got up from the prone position. He looked around cautiously. Keeping low and behind the trees, he slowly crept back towards the Prime Gate. Wendell found himself mesmerized by the controlled breathing and rhythmic sound of each footfall.

Without warning, the perspective was whipped around and the entire chamber was engulfed by the face of the enemy.

“AAAHH!” Wendell cried out loud with panic, throwing his hands up top protect his face. He peaked out from behind his fingers to find everyone in the room staring right at him.

“Sorry,” Wendell mumbled, embarrassed. He gave Chuck a sideways glance and shrugged. “Sorry about that. This gives surround sound a whole new meaning.”

The vallen’s laughter was deep and grating. A gauntlet struck the elder across the face and Wendell ducked. The image shuddered and slid out of focus, but Wendell could see the giant grinning wide. The Council watched as the long, broken canines poking out from its bottom jaw, loomed closer. Sliding across the cracked and misshaped lips, a black tongue mingled with the saliva dripping from the corner of its mouth.

“Fresh meat,” it hissed.

Wendell dry heaved.

Small blue hands reached up, clawing at the face. A gauntlet wrapped around one of them and Tiell cried out. There was a violent shudder throughout the room. Wendell glanced at the cot and was surprised to see the Iskari twisting in the pillows. Is…he in pain? With each blow, his body shuttered and then collapsed deeper into the bedding.

Wendell poked Chuck, concerned. “What are we doing to him?” he whispered, pointing at Tiell.

The wizard patted his arm reassuringly. “It’s part of the process, I’m afraid,” he whispered quietly, “Poor Tiell must relive it all for us to see.” He frowned, “A considerable sacrifice—so let’s be quiet.”

Wendell nodded silently and glanced up to see powerful hands locked around the Elder’s throat above them. A creeping darkness closed in. The walls of the Bedurrim grew dim, spreading over stone, chair and wood, the image of the vallen fading before them.

He’s being choked to death! Wendell’s legs bounced atop the balls of his feet, his palms clammy, fingers twitching. Mouth open wide, the misshapen fangs of the vallen closed in to bite, with a growl Wendell recognized, rumbling from its chest. Tiell’s raspy voice could barely be heard, gasping for the last sips of air.

No!

The scene trembled violently…and went black.

No one in the chamber made a sound, though several glanced to Tiell on the cot. The four symbols continued to give their light in the absence of the scene above them. Wendell could still hear Tiell breathing all around him. Light slowly crept back into the chamber. It was blurry at first—but moments later, Wendell could make out the lower branches of a tree. He sat forward, Where’s the giant? What happened??

The perspective tumbled forward as Tiell sat up. The room spun around to look at the giant…dead. A daggers hilt was fixed under the giants chin. Blood ran down its thick neck and into the soil. A smaller trail ran from the top of the skull where the blade punctured through bone, down across the Vallen’s open eye. The fixed stare made Wendell shudder.

Mangled fingers came into view, already swollen and turning dark. Wendell cringed as Tiell, with great difficulty, pulled the blade from the lifeless body and wiped it clean across his robe.

For over an hour they watched the Elder work his way back to the Prime Gate, silently circling the rim of the trees, avoiding the searches and whispering incantations to hide his presence. Tiell eventually found a thick outcropping of plant life with a clear view of the Prime Gate. Nestling himself between the trees and rocks, he laid down, covering himself with leaves and pine needles.

He settled in and watched Tämä-Un’s unwelcome visitors—now four alert guards, pacing the base of the Prime Gate.

How is he going to get past them? How did he get past them??

A single drop of light fell from the sky and struck the Gate.

The air upon the platform blurred. Shapes formed at its center, silhouettes of shadow converging.

The four guards positioned themselves at the ramps, swords drawn, shields raised and ready. And then altogether pushing through, the darkness gave birth.

Creatures that looked like lizards crossed with panthers, jumped from the platform on six legs—thick tails hissing with fanged mouthes. Furry beasts with powerful arms and shoulders, swung their short, squat bodies across the ground—small heads turned warily from side to side, long black tongues tasting the air. Deformed men with deep scars and tattered vests, cracked long whips at the beasts, shouting commands while small dogs…or what Wendell thought were dogs, nipped at the heels of those in line. Yapping like hyena’s, their faces were marred and twisted, lacking eyelids or lips and Wendell recoiled in his seat.

What ARE those things?!

Bare-chested slaves guided beasts of burden through the use of spears, jabbing at necks and tugging on leashes. Mammoth humanoids, chained together in lines, lumbered forward, pulling heavy laden carts. Behind them came black wolves the size of grizzly bears. Muffled and harnessed, the wagons they pulled groaned under the weight of their cargo.

And then there were soldiers. Line after line, pushing through the darkness. Giants in horned helmets, thick steel plate and rattling chain mail. The ground shook with their uniform march, pikes and spears stabbing the ground with each step. The invaders poured through like an open wound, black blood flooding into the open valley as if they would never stop.

Terror gripped Wendell’s chest. An army of blood lusting freaks and monsters. He tried to count how many came through the portal at first, but he lost track, over and over again. There were too many.

Nurii’s eyes searched the open vision before her. “Tiell, how did you escape?”

The images shifted once more, darkness engulfing the room as the sun vanished. Stars took their place, shinning brilliantly overhead. A sea of diamonds. There was no longer any sign of the army. The valley was empty, except for the guards who remained behind. Tiell shifted cautiously through the trees, inching forward. Into the open he ventured. Crawling up behind the Prime Gate, he peered around the edge of the platform. The guards sat quietly around a small fire, engaged in eating and drinking—paying little attention.

Now’s his chance, Wendell knew, but the Elder hesitated.

Both hands came into view. Swollen, broken fingers moving painfully across the engraved symbols of the black claw. The marking slid along the black surface, changing from single shapes to complex formations…the deep red changing to a dull blue. Wendell could hear Tiell’s breathing becoming shallow. Quickening.

He’s scared.

Crawling up the back ramp of the platform, Tiell crouched behind one of the claws and looked upward. A brilliant drop of light launched upward, vanishing into the heavens. Calling home.

Jumping to the center of the platform, the Elder quickly wrote symbols in the air, whispering incantations. Light accumulated around him, casting pointed shadows from the platform. Magic. It’s too bright! The guards are going to…

The soldiers were already on their feet, sprinting. Wendell could see one by the fire, lifting a crossbow.

“Look out!” Wendell cried, caught up in the moment.

Several Elders glanced at him and Chuck patted him on the back. Wendell sunk back into his seat, still transfixed on the scene. Light flared from the blue hands, just as Tiell cried out from the cot. Vallen fell to the ground, scattered and smoldering, but Tiell’s good arm fell like a dead trees to his side. A crossbow bolt protruded from his shoulder. The light around the Elder waned.

Wendell looked at the Elder, lying their on the pillows, cleaned and dressed in white, wounds bandaged, bones reset. Even in the dim light, Wendell could see the glistening sweat along Tiell’s brow, tiny streams trickling across his temples.

Above Wendell, the Elder drew his long dagger with broken fingers and threw. The blade flipped through the air, past an oncoming foe, and sunk into the face of the crossbowman. The body fell backwards into the flames.

As the last standing soldier drew close, darting up the ramp, Wendell cringed. His heart thrashed in his chest as the enemy drew close enough to swung his war hammer. Wendell  threw his arms up in defense as the hammer dropped. Tiell rolled with the blow too late.

The sound of cracking bones echoed throughout the Bedurrim.

Images instantly flashed to the park in Sanctuary, flooding the chamber and Wendell blinked. The perspective spun about as Tiell’s body flew back, rolling down the steps of the ramp.

A growl seeped from the lips of Elder Tūrsin.

For a moment, the images didn’t move…and Wendell felt the fear creep up his spine. Get up Tiell. Get UP! He knew what was next. Kyliene was nearby. She had just walked him back to meet with Delnar, the High Elder. Wendell was standing on the terrace just a hundred yards away.

A scream pierced the air and Wendell nearly came unglued.

Get up Tiell!! …but it was useless. He knew the outcome.

The Elder raised his head weakly. The young girl came into focus. Kyliene was cowering before the Vallen, retreating to the tree line of the park.

NO! Wendell wanted to jump into the scene and attack the giant with his own fists. He nearly stood up to try.

Grunting and breathing heavily, Tiell pulled his knees under him and started whispering words Wendell didn’t understand. Light once again began to gather around the Elder, his good hand limply tracing signs in the air.

But it was too late.

The giant charged at him and the hammer came down swiftly. The images vanished. Tiell was unconscious.

Wendell sat wide eyed, his heart nearly refusing to beat.

…and he killed her. That foul demon from hell killed her! His hands trembled, thinking of Kyliene’s body, lying upon the ground, wrapped in the white Iskari ceremonial cloth of death. His head fell forward. He killed her.

The four symbols faded as the incantation ended. The flames in the Bedurrim rose once more, chasing away the haunting shadows of the brutal memories.

“That is all Tiell can show us,” Nurii said softly, gently raising and kissing Tiell’s hand. “Rest now, little brother,” she whispered, “you have done very well.”

The prone Elder continued on in sleep, but Wendell noticed a line of blood from Tiell’s nose, trailing across his cheek. Nurii took a cloth from her sleeve and wiped the blood  from his face.

Wendell expected an outburst of comments or questions. At the very least, he expected noise—but it remained silent. Hoods turned this way and that, but no one spoke. Even Delnar sat in silence. His hood pulled back, the High Elder looked…frozen—a statue of cobalt, eyes locked on Chuck.

The wizard sat next to Wendell, hands tightly gripping the neck of his staff. Wendell glanced between the two, seemingly locked in a muted conversation. The High Elder looked to have aged during the open vision. The lines in his face deepened in concern as the old wizard continued to gaze at him. Unblinking, unmoving. Only Shea, the youngest of the Council, seemed as confused as Wendell.

A small light sparked as Dax lit a cigar, breaking the tension.

“Decisions must be made,” said Elder Gaidred. His gloomy voice ending the silence and all hoods turned to him. “…and in haste I fear.” He stared at Tiell’s sleeping body, gently pulling at his black beard in contemplation. “I believe a bad situation just got worse. Our brother is wounded. We lack the royal bloodline. Now we have irrefutable proof that the enemy moves against the humans. We are wholly unprepared.”

Several hoods nodded in agreement.

A thin, pale Elder sat forward, leaning on the edge of his seat. He looked to Gaidred. “Will it do us any good to purge the Gate?”

“It will buy us time, I believe,” Gaidred replied, “nothing more.”

“Excuse me” interrupted Wendell timidly. He was determined to be included in this conversation. “Would you mind explaining what you’re talking about?”

None of the Elders replied.

Chuck sat in silence, pondering. His staff hovering in the air next to him.   

Dax scoffed, flicking cigar ashes onto the floor. “We don’t know ‘nuthin. It’s just a buncha troll trash and their pets comin’ through the Gate. Big freakin’ deal. Let’s get some real men, a few mägo and deport their butts! Kick ‘em out, lock the Gate, secure the shores…problem solved.”

Gaidred shook his head, “It’s not that simple, Dax. When was the last time you saw a Vallen open a Prime Gate?”

Dax sneered, “They can’t! They’re too stupid to…” His face went pale. He dropped his head and started to pace.

They’re disturbed by this. Seriously bothered…enough to make Dax shut up!? Wendell’s hand went to his front pocket, fingers resting against the letter he’d folded and tucked away. He raised his hand, awkwardly.

“I’d sure like to know what you’ve all concluded,” he said nervously. But again, none of the Council replied.

“Vallen can’t open Gates,” answered Chuck. “The Tauku however—a filthy, foul race of sadistic parasites—are masters of Gate Lore.”

Wendell looked around the room. Then it hit him. Oh, crap, “They’ve teamed up.”

“That’s…the theory at this point, anyway.” Chuck looked to Delnar, “But we won’t know for sure until we get involved.”

Dax continued to pace across the floor, puffing the cigar aggressively and doing an excellent impression of a choo-choo train.

“The Vallen and Tauku are bitter enemies, Lord Wendell.” A round bellied, heavy set Elder sat forward. “If left alone, they would eventually destroy one another without our help.” He pulled the Black robes about his legs, shifting in his chair. It creaked under his weight. “The only alliances we know of in our recorded history, have occurred when they engaged in war…under the direct rule of Mahan himself. The Tauku opening the gates may be an assumption,…but I am unaware of any other race with such knowledge.”

The High Elder raised his hand for silence.

“Thank you Sulvan,” he said politely. He looked to Wendell. “The last alliance between these races was to destroy the Nocturi people.”

“Here we go,” whispered Dax to himself.

“You don’t know that Delnar,” countered Chuck, loudly. His blue eyes sat fixed under the bushy brows, unyielding, challenging. “It’s speculation at best,” he continued, and even louder, “we don’t actually know what happened.”

“Are you serious?” scoffed Dax, stopping mid-step and shooting the wizard a glare of disgust. “After all this time, you still want to argue about this?”

“Maybe so,” cut in the High Elder, “but tell me when the Vallen, regardless of how powerful and vicious they are in battle, have ever defeated the mägo? Let alone the greatest magic users that ever lived! There had to be magic…powerful magic, to subdue and destroy our brothers.” He looked around at his Council, most of them nodding. “When the Nocturi were destroyed, the very world trembled! We had peace for hundreds of years and then, suddenly, shadows re-entered the world, Morphiophelius. Even you cannot deny this. Mahan’s whispers were heard once more.”

The wizard shook his head, “No. …no, you don’t know…”

Wendell flinched as the High Elder sprang to his feet, shouting, “No mere unembodied has the power to penetrate the defenses of Erimūri, Morphiophelius! Something aided that creature,” he grit his teeth, choking back the rage, “and it was not some Vallen spawn! It killed one of our CHILDREN!”

Delnar fell back into this chair, fuming. “This is not a game, wizard,” he trembled, “…what other proof do we need?”

Wendell watched the exchange closely. It was apparent that Delnar and Chuck didn’t always see eye to eye. The tension continued to rise in the chamber, though there were smiles, nods and manners used. So the bad guys get together when they really want to put the hurt on people. Lovely. This job keeps getting harder by the minute.

He piped up again, “So, why Tämä-Un? Why humans?” He looked around the room. “I mean, why not Gnomes, or Kutollum, or Evolu…even Gypsies.”

A few mouths opened in surprise as he rattled off the names of the races.

“The humans have been the greatest force against dark uprisings from the beginning,” answered Gaidred. “Destroy the humans, you break any serious foundation for a resistance. King Robert III has thwarted every major invasion for the past two centuries. His greatest effort of late has been to rebuild the old alliances, though he’s had little success.”

Elder Nurii stirred in her seat. “Andilain’s government is crumbling. Nobles wage war against each other, poverty forces the citizens to rebel—they are ripe for destruction as a nation. Especially if King Robert is away.”

Another Elder in white robes, interrupted, “Do we know if any other gates have been opened?” Wendell recognized him as Elder Tūrsin, the one who killed the Vallen in Sanctuary. He was a shape-shifter and defeated the giant by transforming into a bear. Tūrsin’s face contorted in anger, the crease of his brows so deep they looked like lightening. He gripped the arms of his chair, the knuckles of his wide hands turning white from the strain.

“Not unless we travel there ourselves,” answered the Elder beside Tūrsin. He looked to be a thinner twin of the shapeshifting Elder, but only their faces were identical. A steady hand reached out and gripped Tūrsin’s forearm. He immediately relaxed. “But our decision here must be made with calm hearts and open eyes. Based upon what we do know, not our assumptions. What concerns me most, is if the enemy is once more organized, then its general is also involved and is most certainly on the move.”

Dax closed his eyes tightly as if in pain. “Thule,” he whispered to himself, though Wendell could hear him well enough.

“Mahan’s Pink Panties!” snapped Chuck, “This just get’s better and better!” He looked to Wendell and shook his head in disgust, “Poster child for birth defects if you ask me. Don’t think his mother took vitamins when she was pregnant, if you know what I mean.”

“Lord…,” the High Elder paused as the young hero looked up. He tried to smile, but he looked worn. “Wendell. Have you had a chance to read the letter I gave to you?”

Wendell looked around sheepishly and nodded, “But I don’t think it’s going to help much. It was more of an apology than anything else.”

“An apology?” repeated the High Elder.

Wendell pulled the letter from his pocket and unfolded it. “It says the enemy’s going to escape. That it was his fault, the hero’s, because he couldn’t kill Mahan. He didn’t have the heart to.”

Gasps and whispered comments erupted from the Council.

“Give me that!” snapped Dax, yanking the paper from Wendell’s hands.

Wendell scratched his head, “…and it says to find Ithari’s children…and keep them safe? Which seems kinda crazy, because a diamond can’t have kids.” He looked around at the stoic expressions on Delnar’s face. “Can it?”

“Yer insane kid,” challenged Dax, “It doesn’t say anything! It’s just a blank sheet o’paper.”

Wendell took the paper back and looked at it. “It’s all right here, Dax…see?” He tapped the paper with a finger.

“Dax’s eyes are fine,” clarified the High Elder. “The letter was sealed by magic and given to the High Elder of the time. Only Ithari could break the enchantment upon it,” he smiled at Wendell, “and apparently read it.”

“The children the letter speaks of,” added Gaidred, “would be the fragments of the original stone Ithari came from. The Lanthya. Eleven shards, and the heart stone, which you now wear in your chest.” At it’s mention, Wendell’s hand caressed the stone under his t-shirt. Now we’re getting somewhere!

“Who has them?” Wendell asked.

The High Elder shot Chuck a glance. The wizard nodded.

“The first is here, within Sanctuary. The second was a gift, from the Evolu to the High Kings of Humär. It was placed in the hilt of Stonecleaver—the sword King Robert III now wears. The third, we believe is still with the Northern Kingdom of the Kutollum, hidden from all site.”

Wendell pondered. “That’s eight shards unaccounted for.” Lost? Hidden? In the hands of Thule?

“This is why we must act wisely,” added Delnar, “They could be anywhere.” The frustration on his face gave way to resolve—the spring sun melting the hold of a winter snow. “We cannot sit by and allow the enemy to tread on our ancient kin.” Addressing the High Council, “Brothers and sisters, I believe the time has come for the Iskari to once more walk among men.”

“Then a strategy we must formulate,” answered Gaidred, “The Prime Gate must be purged and locked, to prevent further use by the enemy.”

“…and to prevent their escape,” added another.

Wendell’s mind kept flashing to the angry face of the Vallen, snapping its jagged teeth at Tiell. He did a double take when he noticed Chuck just standing there, a huge smirk on his face. Dax, however, still paced the floor.

“And you, our young friend,” added the High Elder with a smile, “will stay here in Sanctuary and begin your studies.”

Wendell blinked. “Excuse me?”

“We must keep you isolated from danger,” added Delnar, maintaining his smile. “We cannot allow the gem to fall into the hands of the enemy.”

“Woah, woah, woah…” Wendell couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You must remain hidden,” Delnar stressed, “…for now.” The Council nodded their silent agreement. “It is the wisest course of action…and the final decision of this body.”

When Wendell opened his mouth once more to object, the High Elder  cut him off. “If Thule were to discover that you were here, he would stop at nothing to find you. He will hunt you down and destroy you. Every appearance you make, jeopardizes your life. You must prepare and develop your abilities. Keeping you confined to Erimūri is the only way we can ensure your safety. Once you’ve learned how to utilize the Ithari satisfactorily, we will find the best use for your abilities.”

Chuck nervously stepped forward. “Uh, gents—speaking of appearances…there may be a small prob…”

“No,” said Wendell aloud.

He blinked, unsure if it was actually his voice that had objected. No point in turning back now. He purposefully looked at each of the hoods in turn, then said firmly, “I will not stay in Sanctuary.”

Mouth open, Chuck froze.

All eyes shifted from Wendell, back to Chuck, expectantly. Even Dax stopped pacing.

Patting the young hero on the back, the wizard grinned weakly, shoulders up around his ears. “Why…don’t we see what the boy has to say…” and he quickly sat down.

All eyes were now on him. It was now or never. If he didn’t speak up, it was doubtful Wendell would get another chance. I can do this, he told himself. I have to do this. He had questions burning in his mind, but he knew he’d never find the answers confined or locked away.

Our enemy will eventually escape from the prison we are preparing, unless the seals are maintained. Protect them at all costs.

Elders stood up pointing, waving their hands about and talking, but Wendell couldn’t hear them. It was downed out by a soft rhythm, pulsing in his ears, in his chest—through the veins of his body, masking the sounds in the Bedurrim. The beat of his new heart.

Ignoring the Council, he unfolded the letter and read it again.

Be patient with others, my son, for few will understand the path you will be forced to walk. Trust no one but the Gem. Listen to that inner voice that whispers to you. Not your own voice, but that voice that tells you only to do what is right, what is true and just.

Only Delnar sat with his eyes transfixed on Wendell. Studying him, while his brothers and sisters seemingly came unglued.

Few will understand the path you will be forced to walk…

“Why are you so troubled?” Wendell asked aloud.

Silence quickly fell over the room. Be patient with others, he repeated to himself. He forced a smile to his face—which triggered the smiley on his t-shirt. It glanced around, scowling and shaking it’s head, disgusted.

“I respect protocol and tradition, but could you please pull back those hoods? I’d really like to see your eyes for a change…” he shrugged, “and to tell you the truth, this whole grim reaper thing creeps me out.”

Chuck stifled a laugh. Dax plopped back down on the bench, stifling one of his own.

One by one the hoods fell, until Wendell could clearly see every set of eyes, every scowl and every frown of disapproval.

Wendell smiled. Muuuuuch better!

Keeping his tone calm, “I feel I’m lacking in understanding, High Elder. With your permission, may I ask a few questions?”

Delnar’s expression didn’t change, nor did the intensity of his stare, “Most certainly.”

Wendell looked around the semi-circle. “Thank you.” It occurred to him that this reaction by the Council was actually a good sign. These were people passionate about their beliefs, that’s all—about their duties and responsibilities. That wasn’t something to be afraid of or fight against. It was something to be respected, admired, and in truth…it meant that such passion, if pointed in the right direction—would be unstoppable.

“I apologize if I’ve offended any of you. That was not my intention. The truth is, Elder’s, I’m confused. I volunteered for this responsibility—so I hope you can support me in wanting to take this responsibility very seriously.”

A few eyebrows raised.

“I want to understand where my place is—to stand in my duty and not shirk my responsibilities. Does that make sense?”

No response.

Right, then. He continued, “Am I correct to assume that this Council was set apart to guard the Ithari?”

“That is correct,” replied the High Elder firmly.

Wendell nodded. “And so I do understand correctly, in what areas does this Council rule over and direct Ithari?”

Soft gasps escaped several Council members.

“We serve her, not direct her,” said Delnar, shocked. “That would be…blasphemy.”

Wendell frowned, “But, you have to have some authority over Ithari, surely?”

The High Elder frowned, “Never! Our ancestors received their commissions from the original hero himself! This Council was formed by Ithari…and has fulfilled its duties and responsibilities faithfully, throughout the ages. The created cannot control the creator—surely you can see this logic?”

Delnar’s eyes suddenly narrowed as the smiley grinned smugly at him from eyebrow to eyebrow.

“I’m truly confused, then, High Elder. Because if you have no authority over the Ithari, then by what authority do you confine its host to Sanctuary?”

Delnar’s eyes popped open wide, as if he’d been slapped. Several Elders stood up, affronted.

Ok Wendell, don’t push too hard…stay respectful—the last thing you want it to make enemies of these guys. He took a deep breath and held his palms up. “I’m sorry—that…was rude and disrespectful.”

He bit his lip, looking around the circle pleadingly. “Did you even hear yourselves, though?” Then Wendell repeated in a softer tone, “Once you’ve learned how to utilize the Ithari satisfactorily, we will find the best use for your abilities?” He looked each of the outraged Elders in the eyes, accepting their anger…and shrugged. “Really?”

Slowly, one by one, the Elder’s sat down.

“I’m just trying to serve Ithari, like this Council. She’s put thoughts in my mind, feelings in my heart and I can tell you—I’m already a new person from when I arrived. I know I’m not the hero you wanted.” Wendell looked over at Dax, “Heck—I don’t even know if I am a hero. The situation is dangerous, complicated, even desperate,…I get that.” The stone expressions were starting to crumble around him. “But I’m here now. The gem chose me…Wendell Percy Dipmier. Regardless of how you might feel about me or doubt me, the gem is in my chest—not yours.”

The High Elder shifted uncomfortably in his chair as Wendell’s focus settled back on him. “I also have an inkling of what I’m capable of. The last thing you should do is try to shove me in a box or put a leash around my neck. That’s not wisdom, it’s insanity.” The smiley instantly turned a shade of orange, displaying a ferocious grin.

“And I won’t let you.”

For long moments Wendell waited, meeting every stare with boldness. No one spoke. No one rebuked him. No one challenged him.

Lifting his t-shirt, he waved his hand over his ribcage and said aloud, “Silmä inakmään.” Ithari became visible, sparkling brightly in the firelight.

Chuck started to applaud, then thought better of it.

“Bloodline or not,” Wendell concluded, “I am the guardian of Ithari and I know what to do first.” He let the shirt fall over the gem. “…and she’s not staying here.”

Fourteen blue faces stared back at him.

What an impetuous, arrogant young man! That’s what you’re thinking about me, aren’t you—but he couldn’t help feeling a strong sense of satisfaction.

Thu-THUMP-thump.

Wendell decided to accept the dumbfounded silence as a sign of support. He smiled brightly at the High Elder.

“Now that we have that settled—how do I get to a place called Til-Thorin?”