There comes a moment in every life when the Universe presents you with an opportunity to rise to your potential.  An open door that only requires the heart to walk through, seize it and hang on.

The choice is never simple. It is never easy. 

It’s not supposed to be.

But those who travel this path have always looked back and realized that the test was always about the heart.

The rest is just practice.

“What do you think of Sanctuary?” the High Elder asked, stopping at the peak of the bridge to look over the last light in the valley.

“Did you find food?” He tried to draw Wendell out of himself.

“Uh-huh,” Wendell responded, distracted with the wonderful events of the day.

“Your arm!” the High Elder exclaimed. “What happened?”

Wendell looked down at the bandage and the wound, but all he did was smile. The valley looked so peaceful. High above them Elämä moved through the expanse of space, blotting out the last rays of the sun—a silent call to the glistening crystals of Erimuri to cast a soft blue glow over the white city. Twinkling lights gently lit the streets and paths. It’s so beautiful and peaceful here.

“Wendell?”

“What? Oh. Sorry. I-I fell…out of a tree. Nana said I cracked the bone in my arm.”

The distant orchards were now fading into the shadows. His attention drifted from his days labors over to the market, where kind people fed a complete stranger.

“It…doesn’t hurt anymore,” he added lazily, caught up in his own thoughts.

It was a really good day. Heh, best one I can remember, actually. He grinned. She liked me. Kyliene didn’t know who I was, or where I really came from…and she liked me. He grinned wider. Even when I made a dork of myself, and… he looked down at his bandage…fell out of a tree, trying to impress her, she still liked me.

Remembering the small red door surrounded with flowers, his gaze lingered on the block of homes near the far side of the park. He couldn’t see Kyliene’s home from here, but he knew where to look. His stomach full of butterflies, he raised his hand to cover the grin on his face.

“Today was wonderful,” he said out loud looking over at the Elder. “Amazing actually. I’ve never had a day like it.” But one thought nagged at him. “My mom and Evan would have liked meeting the friends I made today.”

The High Elder grinned, “Especially Kyliene?”

Wendell smirked. “Still, I’m worried about my mom.” There it was, the one fact that denied him contentment. “A month is a long time to be away.”

The High Elder looked at him, surprised. “You won’t be gone a month.”

Wendell stopped short. “What?”

“You will not be gone a month. Far less than that.”

Wendell, confused, shook his head. “You’re not making sense to me now. Not that you have made much sense from the moment I got here, but…you need to explain this to me.” Is there some kind of hope that I’ll be able to stay here longer and have the best of both worlds?

“You have been here almost two days now, but time does not pass at the same rate as Earth. What your world has yet to discover is that time is a relative thing…and specific to the sphere in which it is bound.”

Wendell’s brows curved inward, “Yeeaaah, we’re still talking crazy here. In a way I can understand, please?”

The High Elder laughed then, “This world moves much faster than Earth. What that means, is many generations have passed since you were born. You were taken to a world where time moves much slower, thus…have time.” Now that he had Wendell’s attention, he resumed a brisk pace towards the keep and the waiting Council members.

“Generations?” Wendell ran after the High Elder. “Wait. Wait. That’s…lifetimes!”

“Correct.”

Shock, confusion and realization battled for control of his face as he entered the torch lit terrace. This…doesn’t make any sense. He shrugged, Says the teenage kid trapped in a magical land with a diamond sticking out of his chest. Then a thought occurred to him.

“How long could I live here and not…you know…be missed?” Wendell shrugged, admitting, “If, suppose…I wanted to stay a while?”

The High Elder grinned and stopped, turning around to face Wendell. “Let’s take a look at that wound before we go in, shall we?”

Frustrated, but not wanting to push the point so as to get on the blueberry’s bad side, Wendell stood still and raised his forearm.

Unwrapping the handkerchief, the High Elder handed the sticks and cloth to Wendell and examined his arm.

“Does this hurt?” he pressed his fingers into the skin.

“Nope.”

“Uncomfortable?” he asked, running his thumbs up and down the length of the bone.

Wendell shook his head, “Not in the least.”

“You should have flinched if the bone was truly wounded.” Satisfied, he nodded. “The Ithari has performed her wonders. You are whole once more.” He smiled, then looked questioningly past Wendell’s shoulder.

Wendell stared at his arm, flipping his palm back and forth. “I noticed that there was a warming sensation soon after the fall, but…wow, I did realize she was healing me!”

From a far corner of the terrace three robed men briskly approached. Two wore white robes, while the third, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood, wore black. Two nodded in polite, yet silent acknowledgment to the stranger as they passed, but one turned deliberately and looked right at Wendell.

Their eyes meeting, his stare was intense, curious, accusing. In the torchlight Wendell could see he was very young, probably even younger than himself.

What’s his problem? Confused, Wendell avoided the stare and looked down at his feet.

The High Elder turned to address the three. “Gaidred?”

Bowing slightly, the one in black spoke clearly in low tones. “High Elder, we have yet to hear from Tiell. As we discussed in Council meeting, our situation becomes grave. In light of this, Brother Tursin and I would offer our services.”

Looking to each robe and then back to Gaidred, deep furrows in his brow, the High Elder said, “Continue.”

“We would go to Tämä-Un to discover why Tiell is delayed. Do you feel that it would be wise?”

Watching as he slowly paced in front of them, stroking his beard, the three elders waited patiently for the High Elders response.

A situation, which the High Elder had given little thought to, had become serious.

Shea had approached the High Elder earlier in the day, speaking of a dark presence he had felt in Sanctuary. Later, as the Council convened, Shea was not the only one to reveal the experience of an intruder. Something cunning had breached the defenses of the protected city and was moving from valley to valley.

…as if it were searching.

The Council’s combined efforts to locate and identify  the entity had been frustrated, the entity still roaming free in Erimuri. To make matters worse, Brother Tiell was long over due to return from what was considered a simple and routine excursion.

Wendell was uncomfortable observing the anxious tension weighing upon these strangers. Quietly, he shifted his weight from one foot to another, keeping his hands at his side, his fingers fidgeting with the ends of his tunic.

What’s going on? Does this have something to do with me? Trying so hard to be quiet he even held his breath in spurts, exhaling slowly through his nose to muffle the sound of his breathing.

Again the young elder looked over with aggressive eyes questioning him.

What the crap is his problem?! Wendell quickly turned his head away as if he didn’t notice, but he could still feel the burning in the back of his neck. He can’t not like me. He doesn’t even know me!

“Tursin?” The High Elder motioned for the exceptionally broad elder to join him, then walked to the edge of the terrace. “I ask that you rely on your instincts to give us some insight. What do your heightened senses tell you?”

Everyone looked them to the muscular Elder. Gripping the balustrade with his pale hands, Tursin’s large, round eyes peered through the darkness with the clarity of an owl, ears twitching. He sniffed the air, detecting the odor of brimstone nearly imperceptible upon the wind. Tursin’s breathing deepened and slowed until he stopped moving altogether.

No one spoke, all eyes waiting upon him.

“Evil descends upon this valley,” Tursin finally whispered, breaking the silence. “It moves among the shadows.”

Decidedly, the High Elder turned to include the others. “As it has been spoken, wisdom would dictate we remain together, united and alert. Tiell must be retrieved immediately and Sanctuary fortified without delay. We must weed out…”

Suddenly shadows stretched across the terrace as a bright light appeared in the night sky. It fell like a luminous drop of liquid upon the Prime Gate, silently striking the center eye of the platform. Runes on each black claw, pulsing to life in a patterned rhythm, glowing red, unmistakeable even from the terrace.

“Thank the Makers, Tiell has returned.” The High Elder, exhaling a sigh of relief, nodded to himself in satisfaction. “Now that we are whole, we can—”

A gut wrenching scream ripped through the night.

Wincing as if he had been struck across the face, the High Elder stopped short, his eyes flashing a moment of terror.

“Kyliene!” Wendell barely heard the High Elder’s distressed whisper. No! Worried, he looked to the elders.

All four men gazed out into the darkness, but it was too dark to see where it was coming from. The echo of the scream vibrated through the valley made it impossible to pinpoint.

“TIELL!” gasped Tursin, his keen eyes spotting something the rest could not see. Diving headfirst over the balustrade, the man plunged into the darkness.

An instant later, the searing screech of an eagle jolted everyone into motion.

The remaining elders darted across the bridge, the young one taking a split second to send another piercing glance back at Wendell.

A second scream, seizing the night, was hauntingly and abruptly silenced…propelling Wendell forward.

Kyliene!

He had no proof, other than the clenching in his chest, that the terrible sounds came from her.

Wendell sprinted after the elders as fast as his feet would carry him.

They all followed the silhouette of the eagle as it circled the park, diving toward the Prime Gate.

Running through the trees, Wendell’s thumping heart faltered when the deafening roar of an enraged beast assaulted his wits.

Oh no…no, no, no!

Stumbling, he instinctively raised his hands to his head as he plunged through the branches and into the open arena of the park.

Wendell frantically scanned for Kyliene as he came into the clearing.

No Kyliene, he sighed in relief. Thank goodness.

Next to the base of the Gate a black grizzly bear stood enormous and erect, growling at an equally enormous green giant, crouching opposite him. Lying in between them, a torn heap of white cloth, caked in blood and dirt and a man’s head barely visible between the folds.

There ARE giants here!? Alarmed, Wendell shuffled sideways, wanting to get a clear view of the bald giant’s face in the shadows. Hissing aggressively, it shook a long hammer gripped in his hand, challenging the bear.

Already blood and a clump of dark fur stuck to the spike end of the weapon, while a gaping wound in the giants left shoulder, bled down heavily tattooed skin. His bulky arm limply flapped against his torso, smearing the oozing black liquid across its dirty leather jerkin and trousers.

Taunting, the giant made a shallow lunge toward the body between them, feigning with the hammer.

Bellowing, the bear warned its enemy to stay away.

“Ha!” the mocking laugh of the giant was barely audible before it roared back. Lunging quickly, he swung the hammer with full intent, but it never met its mark. Dropping forward protectively over the fallen elder, the bear’s agile paw slashed across the enemy’s torso, tearing through clothing, flesh and sinew, sending the hammer spinning across the grass, just a few feet from where Wendell stood.

From the sidelines, Wendell noticed the elders fanning outward, a black robe—the one they called Gaidred—walking calmly towards the fight.

As the giant stumbled back, Gaidred saw his opportunity. Reaching into the folds of his sleeves he threw a long slender knife with one fluid motion.

Tumbling silently through the air the blade stuck true, lodging in the giant’s throat and sinking to the hilt. In pained anger, the giant roared, flinging itself into the light to find its new enemy.

Wendell recoiled as the giant came into the full light.

It had a misshapen head, angular features, unusually thick black eyebrows, which reminded Wendell of another monster. He cringed at the sight of the morbid green face. Like Dax. But this one was much bigger and had seeping boils and odd hairy growths littering its forehead and down the left side of its face. Protruding from its lower jaw were two long, sharp teeth.

Okay, not like Dax.

The giant snarled as it stumbled again, but did not fall. Gurgling, the black liquid sputtered out of its mouth and down its chin.

With a single, downward blow, the bear struck it’s opponent across the head. There was a sickening crunch on impact and the body collapsed lifeless to the ground.

Wendell watched nervously as the bear lumbered over to its fallen enemy, rolling the body over with an immense paw. It hovered a few moments sniffing and studying the grotesque face and then stood upright.

As it stretched, Wendell heard bones shifting and popping, realigning themselves, claws softened into fingers as black fur lightened and retreated through open pores. He stood there gaping as the transformation, which took only seconds, completed into a white robe and Elder Tursin.

Wendell’s jaw dropped open. Shape…shifter. The High Elder was right! There are people who can actually change their shapes!! That is…so…COOL!

Tursin walked slowly, panting heavily across the grass, sweat dripping from his brow. He knelt on one knee while thoughtfully picking up the blood stained hammer, turning it over in his hand.

Wendell watched him, inwardly cringing at the red stain growing over his shoulder and down the left breast of the white robe. Tursin, noticing Wendell’s stare, smiled reassuringly.

“Um,” Wendell gulped, pointing at the wound, “You’re bleeding.”

“Come,” Tursin said softly as he leaned his head toward the others.

Wendell followed Tursin, but kept his distance so as to not get in anyone’s way.

Tiell, who was unconscious, had been rolled onto his back. Gaidred was already kneeling at his side, carefully examining the wounds. Both eyes were swollen shut, his bottom lip bloated and opened at one corner, torn nearly an inch toward his chin.

Wendell noticed Tiell’s hands as the High Elder knelt beside the body, taking one gently upon his lap. The fingers were disfigured, darkened at the joints and bent in the wrong directions. Wendell was no warrior, but these did not look like battle wounds.

“Shea,” called the High Elder.

The young elder quickly knelt down at the side of his father.

“We will need Jiin,” he whispered. “Gather our brothers as quickly as you can.”

With a nod of understanding Shea jumped up and sprinted right into Wendell, knocking them both off balance.

Recovering more quickly than Wendell, who actually landed on his backside, Shea offered a hand to help him up.

Wendell was hesitant at first, He still looks irritated at me, but took the offered hand.

Impatient for the imprudent delay, the High Elder hesitated…watching for the look of confirmation to cross Shea’s face.

Even after Wendell had stood, Shea kept a firm grip on his hand, standing immovable as lightening flashes of certitude fired through his mind.

…and Wendell’s.

Why are you….WOAH! Wendell flinched as images forced their way into his mind. Dax dragging someone by the hair—a stranger suspended in the air while the Ithäri penetrates his chest—the stranger lying on the floor naked. That’s…ME. Why am I seeing…

It dawned on him then, that the images weren’t being forced into his mind, but pulled from his mind.

Again the images flashed with Dax…and then the painful experience with the Ithari…then all went dark.

Like a movie being rewound, the images reversed until  Wendell saw Dax tackling him outside Evan’s home. Then again, it went dark. Nothing else. No past, no future, no connection.

When Wendell blinked, he noticed Shea had released his hand…and gazed upon him now in fear.

Terror gripped Shea’s soul.

Puzzled, the High Elder watched the erratic emotions on the young elder’s face. Shea visibly struggled to compose himself. Looking at Wendell horrified he dropped his hand and backed away.

“Shea?” the High Elder called out, to which his son looked upon him in anger. Deep lines cut into his brow, his eyes red, jaw locked and clenched.

Shea looked to Wendell again, completely stupefied.

Wendell didn’t understand the silent exchange, and something in him prompted him to remain silent. He bit his bottom lip and looked back and forth between father and son.

Tiell’s moaning brought them all back to the task at hand.

“Shea!” the High Elder shouted. “We will discuss this later. We need Jiin now!”

Shea, who had not taken his eyes off Wendell, turned to resume his errand and raced up the path.

People began gathering in the park.

Wendell’s anxiety grew as he listened to their intense whisperings.

“What happened?”

“Who was screaming?”

Someone pointed accusingly at Wendell. “I saw Kyliene walking to the park with him.”

“Is someone hurt? Should we help?”

“What is that?!” a young lady said in disgust.

“That’s a Vallen, my dear. Our enemy. Foul creatures!” answered an elderly man.

“Is it dead?”

“I thought the enchantments were supposed to keep them out,” a fearful woman waled.

“Take the children home—this is no place for them!”

“How…how did that thing get through the Gate?!?”

“It’s a sign!” yelled a man.

“It’s the sign of the Gnolaum, I say!” cried another.

Wendell could hear the muffled sobs of a few who were afraid and confused.

And then a timid voice asked a question that silenced the crowd, “Has Mahan escaped?”

The High Elder glanced briefly at the growing number of people, before looking to Gaidred.

The black robe nodded with understanding. With a gentle expression on his face, he opened his arms wide and walked toward the crowd.

“Friends, calm yourselves and be at peace! Yes, I, too, believe this is a sign of the Gnolaum, for the time has come for his return.” Gaidred glanced pointedly, at Wendell, who felt that familiar sinking in his gut again. The elders voice was firm and soothing as he walked among his fellow citizens, placing a gentle hand on a shoulder or gripping a forearm reassuringly.

“Remember, these valley’s were created for our protection as a gift because of the faithfulness of our ancestors…with a promise that we, as a people, will survive the evil that will scourge the world and decimate the races. We were never promised we would survive the evil unscathed.” Gaidred paused to take a deep breath.

“If the Lord of Darkness has escaped that prison built for him, it matters not.” Gaidred’s eyes once more lingering on Wendell before sweeping across the crowd.

Now HE’s looking at me! Wendell complained.

“Generations have lived in peace and prosperity for hundreds of years since he was banished by the Hero. The Ithäri is the key. We are a strong people. The Ithäri has always won. She will always win. The Gnolaum is coming. We will vanquish this evil and triumph at the last!”

Is he talking about me? Wendell could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Oh, crap! I hope they’re not talking about me.

Coughing lightly, Elder Tiell began to stir. Struggling to take a breath, his free hand gripped a fistful of cloth at his side as his body shuddered.

“My dear brother, this is a great shock,” the High Elder spoke fervently, leaning over his friend.

Tursin came to kneel opposite the High Elder at Tiell’s side, the deep furrows in his brows darkening his scowl. “Who did this to you, little brother?”

Tiell coughed again, harder this time and winced as blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. “Vallen camp. Was discovered.” He tried to smile, causing a fresh crack in his dried lips, “I will live, Tursin. Thus I am, to return and report.”

The High Elder smiled tenderly. “Not now, my friend. Rest. Jiin will be here soon to ease the pain.”

Ignoring the High Elder, Tursin pressed on firmly. “Vallen? In Humär?” his expression now incredulous.

Tiell nodded weakly. “The Prime Gate at Tämä-Un is being watched,”  he groaned. “They have control of the Gate and have sent out scouts.”

“Cursed be their paths,” the High Elder scowled under his breath. Blinking hard, his jaw became rigid. “It seems the enemy has found new paths into the human lands once more.”

“The Gate…showed no signs…of activation,” Tiell whispered haltingly, breaking the silence with his slow, breathy speech. “The King is…safe for now…I locked…the Evolu out of Tämä-Un. ”

The High Elder exhaled a sigh. “It sounds, my brothers, that we are being forced once more into the world of men.”

Tursin nodded, his expression sober. “We knew our seclusion could not last forever.”

Nodding his agreement, the High Elder turned his attention once more to the misshapen hand, limp and motionless on his lap.

Lifting his arm to pull back his robe, Tiell flinched, grunting as muscles rebelled, his hand falling back to his side.

“Here,” the High Elder whispered, “allow me.” Leaning forward, he gently lifted the torn garment back.

A broken arrow shaft protruded from Tiell’s shoulder. It was black and dirty.

Tursin groaned. He was one of a few that knew Vallen left their arrows to rot in vats of their own blood, intent on spreading disease to their victims. Specifically those who did not die by the arrow alone.

Tiell gulped, “Surprised me as…the gate closed…Could not protect…myself.” He paused, laboring to breathe. “Forced to run.” He smiled weakly. “Trousers…would have been…convenient.”

All three elders chuckled knowingly.

“Uh…guys? I don’t mean to bother you, but…” Wendell stammered pointing to the overturned body of the giant. “Is it…supposed to do that?”

All turned in time to see the body rise unnaturally from the ground.

The sight unnerved Wendell—like a puppet, lifted and pulled chest first by invisible strings, sputtering as its limbs convulsed. Its left eye dangled from a fractured socket, splintered bone puncturing flesh as brain matter fell to the ground, the bear inflicted wounds mushrooming the raw black meat.

Anyone nearby the body quickly backed away.

“Look!” yelled several from the crowd.

Elder Gaidred turned to face the giant, placing himself instinctively between enemy and innocents.

“The intruder,” growled Tursin, jumping to his feet. “The shadow we have been searching for…is here.”

“Get the people back!” shouted the High Elder, rising from Tiell’s side.

It was too late.

The possessed giant lunged outward at a group of Iskari citizens, snatching a young girl with bouncing black curls from the crowd. Its filthy hand wrapped around her slender neck like a vice.

Struggling and kicking wildly against the beasts legs without effect, her eyes pleaded, tears streaking down her face. Her complexion slowly turned a deep purple, her lips gasping for air.

“Kyliene!” Wendell shouted, running foreword.

With a powerful hand, Tursin grabbed Wendell and held him back.

“Don’t,” he growled. “Keep your distance.”

“But she has Kyliene!” he screeched, pushing against his iron grip. “I have to help her!!”

The grip tightened, holding him in place.

Wendell panicked. What can I do? I-I don’t know what to DO! There has to be SOMETHING!??

The giant pulled Kyliene tight against its blood drenched tunic like a tiny doll.

Wendell pushed forward again but was immediately restrained by Tursin and now Gaidred’s stern look.

“It wan’t you, my friend,” Tursin whispered. “That is what the evil is here for.”

The giant also looked at Wendell, a sadistic grin on its mangled face as drops of blood trickled from its chin onto Kyliene’s cheek.

“Then hand me over!” Wendell hissed behind gritted teeth. “He’s hurting her!”

“You have nowhere to run, creature,” goaded the High Elder, stepping into the open. “Let her go and we will let you live.”

“Oh, you know that’s not what it wants, Delnar,” a raspy voice called.

The crowd parted, allowing a figure to pass.

An old man in grey robes and a wide-rimmed, pointed hat emerged, leaning heavily on a gnarled walking staff. His bushy white eyebrows were only outdone by the snow white mustache and beard that was so long, it brushed along the ground. He was followed by Dax and a young boy in red robes.

Wendell stopped pushing against Tursin’s arm. He’s not blue!

“Kyliene!” cried the child. He rushing forward haphazardly…only to be scooped up by a wrinkled old hand.

“Stay still, Caleb,” the old man hissed, setting the boy down and moving him into the arms of a woman behind them.

The old man, followed by Dax, moved to stand near the High Elder, elbowing him. “Looks like you found your unwelcome visitor.”

The High Elder spared a grateful glance in the old man’s direction. “I’m glad you are here.”

The old man frowned, “You won’t be.”

“It doesn’t want to live?” questioned Dax, cracking his knuckles. “‘Cause I’m more than happy to help with that request!” His glare changed to a smile as he locked eyes with Kyliene. “Hang in there, sweetie. I’m comin’ for ya.” Swaying on the balls of his feet, ready to spring forward,  he growled deep in his chest. “Tell me when, Chuck, and I’ll bite his throat out.”

“No,” Chuck responded, eyeing the giant. “This is going to require a…gymnastic style solution.”

A wicked grin crawled across Dax’s face.

“Gotcha.”

Taking a step forward, Chuck used the tip of his staff to tilt back the rim of his hat. “You’re not planning on leaving here alive, are you? You wouldn’t have animated a body so damaged, if you were.”

With a widening smile the giant licked the blood from Kyliene’s soft face, a lusty grumble in its chest.

She cringed.

“Don’t think it can talk with that pig-sticker in it’s throat,” Dax smirked. “Gaidred’s been throwing toothpicks again.”

Wendell jumped as a rush of movement exploded behind him.

Shea had returned with the rest of the Council.

Without a word, the robed elders spread out around the Prime Gate, placing themselves between the enemy and the people. Several of them drew closer, hands on weapons hidden beneath their sleeves.

The old man glared as he leaned forward on his staff, studying the enemy. “Let her loose, velpä, and I’ll gladly send you back to your foul master.”

“I shall be with my Master soon enough, Morphiophelius,” it swallowed roughly, “and all the…” he paused to look at Wendell “secrets I have collected in Erimuri will be his.”

Gurgling in its own blood the Vallen laughed as it pulled the knife free from its throat and cast it aside. Turning to stare at Wendell he hissed familiarly, “You were warned, boy. Now, those who love you will suffer.”

The words struck him breathless. Wendell panicked, Where have I heard that?

The giant flinched as a small rock struck its collapsed skull.

“LET HER GO!” screamed Caleb, looking for another rock around his feet. “Uncle Delnar, why don’t you do something!?” A woman dashed out and secured her grip upon him, pulling the child back into the crowd. He kicked and jerked fiercely as he screamed,  “HELP HER!!”

Chuck took another step towards the enemy. “Be forewarned, demon spawn—there’s enough knowledge here to keep you alive and trapped indefinitely. have you thought upon that?” A sly grin appeared under the frosty facial hair. “These Iskari can utterly destroy you.”

The creature’s grin began to fade.

“Think about that. You serve a master that cares for no one. Serves no one but himself…and if you harm this child, I can promise you pain never imagined by your kind.”

“Then let me secure your wrath upon me!” it gurgled.

Wrapping its arm around Kyliene’s torso, hugging her firmly against its chest, the giant grabbed her head and…

BAMPH!

BAMPH!

BAMPH!

Flashes of light and bursts of air pummeled the crowd…as the giant howled in agony.

Where the creature had held Kyliene secure against it’s body, now remained an exposed ribcage and stumps for arms. Blood, drained from its organs, dripping down it’s legs and pooling in the grass between its feet.

Kyliene’s body rolled up to the feet of the High Elder, along with an unconscious Dax…and several extra body parts. Both lay, unmoving…covered in the black blood of the vallen.

Screams erupted through the crowd.

Kyliene’s tear stained face rolled to the side as the last breath of life ascended into the night.

Wendell shoved his way forward and dropped to her side.

No! he whimpered. No, no, no, no, no!

Leaning over her lifeless body, Wendell pulled the caked curls from her cheek and pressed his face against hers.

“This isn’t what’s supposed to happen,” he whispered softly in her ear. “Please get up, Kyliene. Please.” He choked, “Please don’t leave.” Please get up, Kyliene. Please!

Reaching up, he tugged on the High Elder’s robe.

“H-heal her,” he stammered. “You have magic. All of you have magic. Use it on her. Heal her and bring her back.”

Eyes wet and moist, the High Elder whispered, “I wish I could, my Lord.” He swallowed hard, “With all my heart…I wish I could.”

Drowning in emptiness, Wendell fought to keep a grasp on reality.

Th-THUMP-Thump.

Th-THUMP-Thump.

Th-THUMP-Thump.

He couldn’t hear beyond the thumping in his ears,  thoughts sluggish and unconnected, eyesight growing veiled and dull. Wendell tried to focus on the dragging movements around him, which seemed so far away now.

He was watching through a long, foggy tunnel.

The old man named Chuck reached out a hand, making a gripping motion in the air.

The ground trembled…and then the trees along the perimeter of the park.

Roots pierced the soil, shooting up around the  murderous invader, wrestling free of the earth. One by one the roots curled and wound themselves around the vallen. Thrashing violently, the giant was forced to its knees.

“He’s all yours,” the old man yelled to the High Elder, shaking his walking staff in the air. “You don’t have long, I’m afraid, before the body dies and you lose your opportunity,” he growled. “Make it count.”

Unrelenting, the possessed vallen smirked, foolishly glorifying in his victory. “You did not have to bind me. I will let you kill me!”

Slowly, each step thoughtful and deliberate, the High Elder approached the giant.

“No, this body will not serve your purposes. It will no longer transport you to your master in its death. You will not make a sacrifice of the Iskäri in Erimuri by divulging any secrets.”

Choking on his heartache he paused to clear his throat, composing himself, “You have killed one of our children. One that did no harm. One that loved and was deeply loved in return.”

The creature laughed, snapping it teeth.

“You are treacherous and cannot be allowed to return to your master. It is therefore your unfortunate lot to suffer the pain of a million deaths.”

The laughing died.

“Ah. I see you understand…now.”

The giant trembled now, pulling and straining against its bonds.

“You are condemned, traitor, as every molecule of your body and spirit repels another and tears away, while being consumed in unquenchable flame. You will pay, not only for her life but the generations stolen from us that were to be hers.”

Turning his head, he addressed his fellow Council members.

“Elders, we must imprison his mortal substance, that his pain may not be alleviated in separation but compounded in its restraint, until he is no more.”

Wendell tried to shake the growing fog in his head, rubbing his eyes. He wanted to see this.

The Council gathered around the vallen in layered circles, three, then five and then six, each placing their hands upon the shoulders of the elder to each side.

As they gathered, the High Elder leaned in, holding his mouth near the ear of the giant, “You think you know pain?” he whispered softly. He shook his head, “I assure you, you do not.”

Leaning in even closer, he added, “…but you will.”

Anxiously, Wendell watched as the Council closed their eyes in united concentration.

The air around them stirred.

At first it seemed as if a light breeze had picked up. Then a mighty summer wind. It grew and grew, and with it, a radiating heat that couldn’t be contained within the circle.

A huge hand gripped the sleeve of Wendell’s tunic.

Dax, shaking the grogginess from his head, tugged, to which Wendell reacted with fierce objection. He flinched, attempting to pull free.

“Oh, get a grip already, will ya?” Dax said irritated. Wendell was annoyed at being out-matched still…and struggled against being pulled back a safe distance.

“Kyliene’s still there,” he cried.

“I know,” Dax choked, then softer, “Wasn’t…fast enough.” Stopping to readjust his grip, he looked Wendell straight in the face. “She’ll be there when this is all over, kid. I promise. This is to keep you safe.”

With a final tug, he propped Wendell down to sit near the old wizard.

Glaring at the little monster, Wendell yanked his sleeve from Dax’s grip with a huff, and turned to the old man. “What’s happening?”

“Something I never thought I’d see again.” The old man said casually, his eyes never leaving the spectacle before him.

The growing wind whipped around those too close to the circle, biting and pushing them away. The Elders took wider stances as the wind, escaping at their feet, was circulated high above them…and then funneled forcefully back into the center of the circle.

The ground shuddered under the force and pressure, light flaring from the point where the vallen knelt, restrained.

No sound escaped the circle—other than the howling vexation of the wind.

Finally glancing over at Wendell, Chuck smiled.

It was a gentle smile with knowing eyes that dispelled the fog. A sense of self-assured peace washed over Wendell and he immediately felt at ease.

W-who is this guy?

“Morphiophelius,” the old man said cheerfully, holding out his wrinkled hand. “I have other names, even some titles…but they’re usually not very nice, bestowed by people who don’t like me much. Best if you just call me Chuck. And you are?”

“Wendell,” he said, shaking Chucks hand.

Chuck looked at their hands clasped together, rotating Wendell’s wrist slightly, “Hmm. Firm grip. All five digits. A proper pink color.” He nodded approvingly, “Good. You’ll do nicely.”

“Excuse me?” Wendell frowned, confused.

“I said they’re throwing him back into the melting pot,” uttered the old man. “Pay attention boy, or you’ll miss it. Core elements can be used by the Universe for something else. A world, stars, a bookcase…even pancakes!” He thought for a moment, rolling his eyes and vigorously licking his lips, “Blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes…love those. ”

Great. I found the local loon. Wendell looked back at the ring of elders, “So they’re ripping him apart?”

“You got it, kiddo. Starting from scratch.”

“Good,” Wendell snapped, “That foul creature deserves it!”

“Deserves?” Chuck looked at him puzzled.

“He killed Kyliene.”

Turning fully to face Wendell, the old man placed a hand on his forearm. “Careful, son. Judging is a tricky business. Kyliene’s death is tragic, we all agree on that point—but she’ll live on, able to progress in another form. This poor fool will never have such a chance.”

Bursting from the center of the ring a shock wave thrust through the park and across the crystal lake, misting the surrounding buildings.

Then all was still.

…except for the sobbing of a young boy.

Caleb had broken from the crowd and thrown himself over the body of his big sister.

Chuck strolled over and gently put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Go away!” Caleb slapped it away, glaring up through a river of tears. “You could have helped her!” he cried. “Why didn’t any of you help her!? I hate you! I hate all of you for not saving my sister!” Dropping his head into his arms,  he sobbed loudly. “Leave me alone!”

Wendell looked on in silence, unable to turn away from Kyliene’s body, while the emptiness once again consumed him. He couldn’t cry. He wanted to, hearing the mourning of friends and loved ones around her frail body. He felt paralyzed—helpless, scared.

Brushing past Wendell, the High Elder knelt at Kyliene’s side, leaning down he nuzzled his face in the curly black tresses. He inhaled the sweet scent of the silveen blossoms before tenderly kissing her head. Tormented eyes were transfixed on his weeping nephew and he rested a trembling hand on the back of Caleb’s neck, pulling him in closer.

“Nana approaches, Father,” Shea quietly informed as he knelt opposite the High Elder.

Guided by the fat baker Wendell had met earlier, Moira shuffled through the parted crowd, a white sheet draped over one arm. Her face was grave, eyes swollen from tears already shed.

Guided to Kyliene’s head, Shea lifted his hand to support her as his Nana knelt beside him. Her gnarled hands reached out, running her fingers through Kyliene’s hair.

Reaching for her little grandson, Caleb eagerly grasped his Nana’s hand, bathing it in tears.

“Strength, my Caleb. You are the last of this house,” she choked, gripping his hand firmly. “Strength to our family, strength to our people.”

Her head held erect, she looked about in blindness for those she knew would hold compassion and support for her plight.

“Who will help a daughter of Iskäri?” she asked boldly.

Standing, the High Elder removed Caleb, stepping back to make room for the necessary preparations, motioning for Shea to do the same.

Wendell counted as twelve women came forward each offering, “I will help my sister,” as they wept. Sliding their hands under Kyliene’s body, they gingerly lifted her as Moira took the brilliantly white fabric from her arm and gracefully rolled it across the grass. The women gently laid Kyliene down once more, wrapping and tucking the edges to completely cover the body.

Moira placed her hands on Kyliene’s head and wailed, “Never would I have thought this cloth we wove together would have been used for anyone but I!”

Caleb rejoined her as the people gathered around them.

Kneeling in silence, each Iskäri placed their hands upon the shoulders of those in front of them, creating a web of arms and bowed heads, every one reaching into the center towards Caleb and Moira. Each whispered prayers for the last of a family line, offering up all the love and strength of their people.

They wept as one.

A daughter of Erimuri had been taken.

Wendell moved to stand next to the High Elder.

His heart pulled at him—wanting to kneel down with the people who had accepted him so readily and mourn the loss of his friend.

But he felt empty, like a fading echo.

Why didn’t I do something?

His hand went to his chest feeling the small ridge under his tunic.

Could I have done something to prevent this!?

The idea tormented him.

Isn’t this what you’re for? Should I have done something? An irrepressible rage was kindled in his chest, What was I supposed to do?

“I’m sorry for your loss, Wendell,” whispered the High Elder.

Alone in the dark, all at once, Wendell silently choked as a tear rolled down his cheek, but he never made a sound.