PROLOGUE
You cannot hide from your problems.
You cannot run.
The challenges you were meant to face will find you.
Through what may seem like the unfair attention of the Universe, it compels you in the end, to walk the path you should have chosen for yourself.
Why is that?
What happened to choice and free will?
Ahh.
That’s the true mystery, isn’t it?
You always have choice.
The problem is most believe choice means being able to do whatever you want. However you want to do it. Whenever you want to do it.
That was never the agreement.
You can choose to ignore your place, your purpose, your calling in life…and you can choose to be less than you are right now.
You have the choice to turn your back on the world.
You have the choice to ignore the people who desperately need you as well as the talents and skills you posses.
…just don’t be surprised if the Universe gets ticked off when you make the wrong choice, that’s all I’m saying.
“It’s been weeks, Chuck.”
“I know.”
“Shadows are moving upon the land. We’re finding splinter groups roaming Tilliman Highlands.” Thin fingers wrestled under the soft cloth of his sleeves. “Messengers have confirmed that this is happening in more than Humär.
“I know.”
“The High Council has strategic plans that can assist the humans, elves, and dwarves, but we need to coordinate our efforts. Reestablish our relationships and old alliances.”
“I realize that as well, Delnar.”
“Then why haven’t you convinced Wendell to meet with us?”
“Because he needs more time. We asked him to do the impossible, and that’s exactly what the boy’s done. Repeatedly. You’re not getting it through your shiny blue dome—the gnomes broke him.”
“Isn’t that the purpose of the Ithari—to have healed him by now?”
The mägo stopped short, his tiny legs a bit wobbly from trying to keep stride with the Iskari. “I realize you were the keeper of the Gem, and somewhere in that little mind of yours you think you understand her. Well, you don’t. She’s limited to healing the body, not the mind. She will never alter his mind, which, I’m sorry to say, means healing it. Wendell must always have his agency for her to bestow her powers upon him. Like it or not, that’s the way it works.”
“Then how,” the High Elder started to reply, but Chuck cut him off sharply.
“He’s been tortured, Delnar. Get that through your noggin. His closest friends are holding onto life and he believes it’s all his fault!” With a heavy sigh, Chuck ran his fingers absentmindedly through his beard. “He needs more time.”
The High Elder frowned. “Time is the one thing we’re running out of, Chuck.”
The mägo sighed heavily and pulled a brightly colored lollipop from his sleeve. Falling against the wall and dropping onto his backside—he shoved the entire thing into his mouth.
Swirling it around once, he let out a gigantic slurp.
“I know.”
