Nothing is truly free. Every gift has a price, paid for by someone in coin, favors, expectations or goods.

Things get a little sticky when Life shows up wanting to collect on something you thought was free.

Always ask the price.

Wendell was standing at the bottom of a black well—the torches, for some reason, had gone out as they descended.

What was I thinking? Oh, yeah, Stupid. This is just a dream.

Dream or not—he didn’t expect all the lights to go out.

The torches were fewer and fewer as they reached the last step, being stingy with the light and keeping all the warmth for themselves. Wendell wrapped his arms around his lean frame, rubbing his arms briskly to warm himself with the friction.

It was obvious no one had been to the bottom of the Key in ages. The last dozen steps and railing were entombed in a thick layer of stringy grey.

Maybe that’s why the lights dim - so nobody can see housekeeping hasn’t done their job?

Stale and musty, it even smelled old…and his nose wrinkled. Covering his mouth with his hand, Wendell fought the urge to cough as the thick dust stirred with each swish of the High Elder’s robe.

The High Elder walked slower as he left the steps, thoughtfully turning to face a dark archway underneath the stone staircase.

Wendell paused on the last step, admiring the curious, pale wood framing the archway. It had been carved to look like a pair of trees had grown up from the stone, entwining themselves as they stretched across the opening in the wall. The delicately small limbs fanned out to embrace the stone, weaving and wedging their way into the cracks of the masonry.

Desiring a closer look, Wendell stepped from the last stair, and was instantly swallowed in darkness.

“Heeeey!” Wendell complained, hands groping in front of him.

“Shhh!” the High Elder hissed.

“Don’t shush me. It’s dark. Where’d the lights go?”

“Shhh!”

“Whatever,” Wendell sighed. He stood in place and resumed rubbing his arms. It’s freaking cold down here!

“We must pass the sentry,” whispered the High Elder. “Remain still, young Wendell.”

“Sentry? As in a…guard? I don’t see anything,” he muttered.

“Be observant, my friend. And be very, very still.”

Startled by a sharp crack, Wendell flinched. Blue sparks jumped upward, followed by a soft, cold glow emitting from the top of a long, thin staff held in the High Elder’s hand.

“Cool,” Wendell drawled. “Wait, where’d you get that?”

The High Elder glared at Wendell, now, his brows furrowed in all seriousness. “Shhh!” he insisted.

Whatever.

Turning back to the archway, the High Elder stepped forward, holding out his free hand, palm up.

Wendell watched him for several moments, frozen in place, hand outstretched to the room…which seemed a bit—well, looney.

That all changed when, from the archway, a deep, rumbling growl rolled through the room.

Wendell’s stomach sank and he gulped. Blinking, his eyes darted about the room…but there was nothing. At least nothing he could see. W-what’s going on…?

The High Elder, still standing in the near center of the room, bowed, keeping his hand outstretched before him. “Dämä Omä, my brother,” he said softly, “I come with He who was spoken of. We seek permission to enter.”

Squinting, Wendell couldn’t see anything. What is he doing….and WHO IS HE TALKING TO?? Even in the glow of the High Elder’s staff, there was no one there!

Trouble was, Wendell could hear someone move.

…or something.

Whatever it was, it lurked in the shadows.

Wendell suddenly felt grateful the old man was in front of him. He resolved to not feel bad if he had to leave his imaginary host in the dust to be eaten by the unknown to save his own skin.

Another growl.

Blast it! Gotta adjust to this blasted darkness! Closing his eyes, Wendell silently counted to five, then slowly opened them once more. The light from the staff burned brighter, the shadows fading somewhat, until he could make out the walls around him. There, now we can…

Then he saw it.

Well, sort of.

A warped shadow, swaying…just inside the tunnel.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. In fact, Wendell wasn’t even sure he was looking at anything—but there was a flicker. Focusing on a single spot within the darkness, Wendell would catch a sudden blur of movement in his peripheral vision, but it would vanish as soon as he tried to focus on it.

Again, there was a deep rumbling, as if from within the chest of…something huge.

Something close.

“Hold perfectly still,” warned the High Elder intensely, the softer, “Keep your head bowed.”

What is going on?! The self-preservation personality whispered inside his head. How stupid ARE you, Wendell? Run, you idiot. RUN! Leave this old loon behind and RUN AWAY!! But the weighty apprehension of uncertainty glued Wendell’s shoes to the ground. Maybe I’m safer behind the elder? If something tries to get me, I can always shove the old guy into my escape path before I make a run for it. Pause. Not…like I can be guilty of murder in a dream, right?

Something in his gut compelled him to obey the High Elder.

This time.

Moving through the dust in front of them, a chilling scrape across the stone caused Wendell to raise his eyes…just in time to see a massive paw mark, bigger than the whole of his chest, press through the grey layer of dust.

…then another.

Only closer.

Wendell suddenly desperately needed to pee.

The prints stopped directly in front of the High Elder, who then calmly…stepped aside.

Oh, no, you don’t!

Without lifting his head, Wendell slid one foot over and then another until he was behind the High Elder again.

Wendell felt the rumble from the floor through his feet, causing his legs to quiver.

Surprised, the High Elder hissed, “What are you doing!?”

“It’s my dream,” Wendell hissed back, “and you’re expendable!”

The High Elder shifted once more.

Wendell followed suit—keeping the blue man as a meat shield in front of him.

The low growl seemed a little sharper, almost impatient this time.

“Stop it!” the High Elder nearly shrieked. “You’ll anger him!”

Wendell shook his head, “Then stop moving!”

In one stunning motion, the High Elder spun, positioning himself directly behind Wendell and pushing him forward, holding him firmly by the shoulders.

“Hey!…HEY!!” squeaked Wendell, struggling.

“Stay there!” the High Elder warned.

Wendell’s entire body convulsed in spasms as he heard…something coming closer. Why doesn’t anybody around here LIKE me?

Scccraaaape. Scccraaaape. Scccraaaape. Scccraaaape.

Wendell could see another paw print appear just inches from his own shoes. Though he felt like whimpering, he bit his own lip and trembled.

Like the sound of a dog sniffing an open hand, intermittent bursts of humid air hit Wendell in the chest—leaving his hair and face feeling damp. Gritting his teeth, he turned his head to the side, clenching his eyes tight and curling his toes within his shoes.

Please don’t eat me. Please don’t eat me. Please don’t eat me! AhhAHHHahhhh.

As he was being ‘sniffed’ it occurred to him that spending time with Dax might not be too frightening at this point.

With a mild bump…which nearly knocked Wendell over…the huge prints retreated in the dust.

Wendell gulped. Is…that it? He opened his eyes, watching the prints appear to the side of the tunnel, where several small hanging oil lamps, dangling down its center, flickered to life.

See? That wasn’t so bad after all. I knew I could do it.

“Thank you, brother,” the High Elder smiled. “You have honored your covenant. We will keep our end of the agreement. May peace reign with you until your path ends.”

Erupting in a deafening roar, the Key exploded with dust and cobwebs.

“What’s happening?!?” Wendell screamed, stumbling backwards against the wall.

The High Elder dashed to his side, raising an arm to shield his own face. “Prepare yourself!”

The floor trembled beneath their feet. Both men cringed against the stone, covering their faces with upheld hands and arms. The sound of heavy wing fall rose up the stairs, each beat creating a vortex of air, whipping through the Key. A powerful suction pulled at them. Dust, pebbles, and cobwebs churned around them,…and with one fell swoop, were sucked straight up the center of the tower.

Small flakes of dust, rock and sand rained down upon the floor from above.

Moments later, Wendell heard another roar in the distance.

Then it was gone.

Smiling, the High Elder coughed, brushing off his robe. “That was exciting!” Then, gesturing towards the tunnel brightly, “We are free to proceed.”

“Wha…wha…what in heaven's name…?” was all Wendell could say, standing there as pebbles dropped from above, pelting his head.

The High Elder brushed the falling dust from Wendell’s shoulders. “Heavens, indeed. We were able to witness a rare and powerful creature just now, fulfilling a very old agreement. A beautiful and noble story…for another time. We must move on. Quickly now,” he said softly, guiding Wendell into the tunnel.

Wendell hesitated. This dream is more bizarre…and fanTAStic as we go!

The tiny light from the oval lamps hanging overhead cast a soft glow on ornate glass mosaics, which lined the inner walls. Tiles so small and expertly places, the figures looked almost lifelike, each story compellingly beautiful…or terrifying.

The mosaic was broken into three distinct scenes. To Wendell’s left was a landscape ravaged by warfare. Devastating destruction caused by an immense black dragon. Its muscular and armored body loomed over the fields, terrible claws ripping men to pieces, while its spiked tail exploded through tents and trebuchet. Its head reared back, spitting flame over its enemies as thousands of green creatures laid waste to surrounding villages, slaying people and ransacking buildings.

To the right was a scene of more green creatures—arrayed in mighty armies, bringing other dragons down with ropes, nets and barbed hooks. White and silver serpents, of immense size and beauty, howled and struggled, bound by rope and chain. Footmen on the ground stabbed the beasts repeatedly with spears and pikes, or shot them with arrows—while others used sword and axe to hack wings from the mighty bodies.

Wendell shuttered and winced in pain.

The grasslands ran thick with blood as the black dragon, its red eyes mirrored the carnage, ablaze with anger and vengeance, watched from afar.

Why hide pictures like this down here? How can anyone appreciate beautiful art like this at the bottom of a stinky, musty tower??

Each lamp hanging overhead gave enough light, mixed with shadow, to glitter across the tile surfaces, creating the illusion of smoke rising from fires and blood creeping through grass bending in the wind.

It all looks so…real. So…and he gasped.

The ceiling overhead displayed a peaceful scene, however.

It was here that Wendell’s attention lingered.

Beautiful, fair skinned beings dressed in flowing robes. Twelve beings, male and female, paired, holding hands and walking through a tall, shimmering forest of silver trees.

Wendell’s eyes were drawn to one female at the outer edge of the mosaic, all alone, on her knees in a grove. Her silver hair wrapped around her head and across her shoulders, glittering strands falling down her back. So long was her hair, that the strands fanned out behind her in a shimmering train across the grass and over the roots of trees.

Delicate fingers intertwined and head bowed, the woman wept.

Wendell couldn’t explain why his heart ached for the figure in the grove, but it did. He found it hard to breathe, swallowing loudly, his hand resting against the warfare scene to keep his balance as he gazed upward.

The other twelve beings look so happy…so why is this woman all alone?

He had an instant desire to comfort her. To tell her it would be alright, but that was foolish. It was, after all, only a picture. Yet Wendell stretched his hand up, fingers lightly stroking the ends of her hair.

“What is all this? These scenes?” he asked aloud.

The High Elder, who stood patiently, followed Wendell’s gaze to the woman. “That is a tragedy no heart should bear. In a once ancient tongue, they were called the Verrdrä. The word means ‘High’ or ‘Ruling’ Serpent.”

Wendell looked to the black serpent, “You mean dragon, don’t you?”

Nodding, “Dragons so intelligent, noble and loving, they were granted the ability to enjoy the blessings of humanity. To take the shapes of mortals and walk among mankind. Seven Lords and Seven Ladies, chosen to live and rule over the kingdom of animals. They and their offspring, forever.”

Wendell scanned the scene, “But there are only six couples here. That lady in the grove is alone. Where’s the seventh?”

The High Elder nodded to the scene behind him. “He is the black serpent causing the surrounding destruction.”

Pulling his hand from the wall, Wendell stared once more at the scene. It wasn’t long before he found himself staring into the creature's red eyes. So fierce. So devastating. So angry. There was no love in them. “Why is the black dragon destroying villages and cities? I thought you said the dragons received the ability to change because they were loving? This thing is destroying everything around him.”

The High Elder sighed, “We really must be going….”

“Humor me,” Wendell replied cooly. “I’ve come with you, as you asked me to, so tell me about these dragons.” He looked the High Elder straight in the face, his expression softening. “Please.”

Something in the blue Elder gave in, and a smile appeared. “I am not well versed in the lore, but I…will share what I know from our own records.”

Wendell nodded with a wide grin, “Cool.”

Taking a place next to Wendell, he glanced upward. “Ages ago, during the first of the Heroes, when our world was yet young and the gods still interacted among the people more readily, there was a transformation. A time of great magic and wonder. When giants walked the lands freely and men knew the secrets of nature. This is the time when the dragon lords and ladies took upon themselves mortal form to walk and exist among mankind.

“Even then, mortals were a wondrous people to behold. Capable of such love and compassion, to which the Verrdrä were drawn. They had watched and envied the way we interacted, the way we laughed and danced, singing and making merry. So they desired to live out their days among those who ruled over this world. To become more than what they were.”

The High Elder paused, a sadness seeping into his voice. “But in taking upon themselves the forms of mortals, they also fell subject to mortal passions. The mighty black dragon, known among his own kind as Vebränmiekkä—Dragon of the Fiery Sword—coveted the lady Vekesäu, Dragon of Summer Moon. Only she was the covenant mate of the Lord of Lords, the Great Verdräskinn, The Hidden Dragon Lord.”

Wendell frowned, “That doesn’t sound good.”

The High Elder nodded, “Indeed it was not. The Verrdrä are unique creatures, but their mating rituals remain the same as all great serpents. They mate for life through what is referred to as a ‘heart song’. A connection that pulls at the mind, heart and the very soul of a dragon. Its call cannot be denied.”

Wendell frowned, “I’m not seeing the problem. Then why is that dragon lady crying and alone?”

“Because all gifts come with a price. We mortals choose our own path when it comes to the heart. The dragon lords and ladies, while in mortal flesh, were given agency.”

“Agency? As in being able to choose?”

“Precisely. The Verrdrä were given the ability to take on human form, but only for a time. A test, as you will, to see if they would give into passions they had never before experienced…to violate their own nature. One among them chose to give into that selfishness and follow another path.

“Vebränmiekkä was rebuked by lady Vekesäu, whose heart belonged to her beloved Verdräskinn and branded a traitor by the Verrdrä as a whole. Both the betrayal and the judgement of Vebränmiekkä were…inconceivable.

“The Verrdrä found themselves unable to comfort the pure affections and heart song of lady Veydänkev, Dragon Heart of Spring.”

Wendell’s mind couldn’t help but think back to school, where it seemed connections were so casually made and cast aside by the teens he knew. Here he was, learning of mythical creatures, strict in their life connections, while his own culture revolved around the desires of the heart instead of something lasting or meaningful.

A boyfriend or girlfriend every month, every week…trading places at a whim. It never occurred to Wendell how easily affections were given to one another, rather than holding them close, private and sacred.

We don’t even care about the consequences, so long as we get what we want, do we? I sounded horrible from that perspective, but it was true. What would that would do, playing with the emotions and the natural affections as teens got older? It wasn’t so surprising that divorce and teen pregnancy was so common. Too many people took relationships and bestowing affections as a minor thing. “Sounds pretty intense, for not loving someone back, doesn’t it?”

The High Elder shrugged, “Perhaps, but there were only fourteen dragon lords and ladies. That was the whole of their species. Think about that. Only seven couples to carry on a whole species, Wendell. To deny the heart song was to deny the very survival of their race and jeopardized their place to rule over the whole of the animal kingdom.”

Wendell’s fingers ran over the smooth surface of the mosaic. “So they, what—banished the black dragon? You can’t force someone to love…can you?”

“No,” the High Elder replied softly, “You cannot. Yet the act could not go unpunished, either. In the eyes of those who heeded the nature of their kind, those who heeded the heart song, this was the ultimate betrayal to their kind.”

Wendell stared back at the mosaic of the black serpent. “Soooo, what did they do?”

Stepping around Wendell, the High Elder reached out and ran a finger over the black scales of the dragon heaving flames. “In much of the world, names have power, Wendell. Names have purpose. The  Verrdrä were of the old ways. Verdräskinn called a council and unitedly, they renamed the black, BränmiekkäVe—which in their tongue, meant ‘dishonored’, ‘shamed and cast off’ or ‘one who betrays’…and then, collectively, ripped from BränmiekkäVe, his ability to take upon him a mortal form.”

“Wait. That’s…killing him, isn’t it? They branded this guy a traitor, then executed him?”

Shaking his head, “No. That was not their purpose. The hope of the Verrdrä, according to record, was to once more awaken and subject their brother to the heart song. The Verrdrä took away the privileges abused, securing the remainder of BränmiekkäVe’s immortal life to a dragons body. ”

Wendell turned from the scene and stared eagerly at the High Elder.

“Did it work?”

He shook his head. “His heart had already been changed. The evil passion was sealed in a body which could never see it fulfilled. An immortal being, trapped forever in a burning knowledge that you shall never have your greatest hearts desire. It…sparked an unquenchable rage.”

“But,” Wendell cut in, “what happened to the Dragon Heart of Spring?”

“For centuries, she waited patiently. She loved alone, weeping, singing her beautiful song to the winds, hoping her love would come and claim her as his own, but he ignored it, abandoning the lady and setting her to an open shame.”

Wendell, enthralled by the story, searched the mosaic for something he may have missed. The war, the pain…the heartache. “It sounds like black wasn’t the only one in hell.”

The High Elder sighed deeply. “Fortunately for Veydänkev, the legends tell of a stranger…who visited her and,” he paused, his expression shifting to near confusion, “shared her pain.”

Wendell’s brows furrowed, “Shared her pain? How did he…”

“I don’t know. The records we have are few, but it says that this stranger healed her heart enough to bare the burden until the reckoning. A time when a final judgement occurs for all creatures. The stranger then took her away, to hide her shame from the world. To this day, no one knows where the Dragon Heart of Spring resides.”

“Wow. What…about black?” Wendell asked, his attention drawn from the mosaics to the High Elder.

Eyes thoughtful, his words were slow and deliberate, “He is now called Brann. A name given to him by his new master. Fueled by an endless rage against his own kind, Brann now takes his anger out upon the humans. What is worse, is in that rage,  he has turned to hunting down the Verrdrä.”

Wendell scowled. “Wait. He didn’t get what he wanted, so he lashes out and turns on his own people?”

The High Elder nodded. “For over a century years he tracked down brother and sister. Slaying lord, lady…and their offspring.”

“What?” Wendell gasped, “Brann killed…children?”

“He used the children to draw out the lords and ladies, setting traps to betray them at every turn. All but four have been perished. Verdräskinn, whom Brann has been unable to defeat—Veydänkev, whom he avoids lest the heart song overcome him…and Vekesäu, whom he desires to make his own at all costs, but cannot find.”

Woah. “That’s gotta be one tense family reunion, huh?”

The High Elder raised an eyebrow.

Wendell’s smirk faded until he finally shrugged, “Forget it. Bad joke. So this fight then, is still going on?”

“As far as we are aware, yes. The dragon lords do not age as mortals do. All have faded into society, with the exception of Brann, who we know to have retreated to Mällistädel after the capture of the Dark Lord.”

Dark Lord? Mall-to-dell…huh??

“Wait a minute…was that one of them back there?” whispered Wendell, looking back down the tunnel. “The thing that sniffed me and exploded up the Key?”

“A Verrdrä? No. That was…something else. The creature has been here for generations, watching over this entrance.”

“You mean it just sat down here? Waiting?” Incredible. Well, and boring. Wendell could not imagine what kind of treasure or promise that deserved that kind of devotion.

“Yes. Waiting for today. Waiting for you.”

Curiosity tugged at Wendell. “And what if…I wasn’t…you know, like I’ve been saying since I got here?”

“If you were not the hero we have been waiting for?” The High Elder gave Wendell a sideways glance, an almost indistinguishable smirk on his face. “Then your last moments would have been…unfortunate.”

“Right,” Wendell gulped softly. “Good to know I checked out.”

As they stepped from the tunnel the light in the lamps quickly dimmed leaving them once more in heavy shadows. The sudden change caused Wendell to stumble.

For a few minutes he forced himself forward, following the scuffling sound of the High Elders sandals as his fingers ran along the rough surface of the walls.

Step. Step. Come on, Wendell, you can…ungh! Uneven tile. Step. Step. Good grief! I think someone has an issue about paying the power bill in this place. Then out loud, “Aren’t there any more lights around here?”

With a sudden clack of the Elders staff upon the floor, black fire pots flared.

“EEEaaagh!” jumped Wendell, stumbling backwards.

Two glowing red eyes hovered in front of him, glaring through a giant, onyx dragon head. It leaned down into the center of the foyer with menacing white teeth exposed in a silent roar.

“What is WRONG with you people around here!?” he snapped, his chest heaving. “What’s with all the special effects at every turn? For goodness sakes, if you want to get this crap over with so fast, consider installing an elevator instead of weaving people in and out of this madhouse!” He leaned against the wall and gasped for breath, irritated.

“I apologize my Lord,” but he sighed, “Wendell. This is not to make you uncomfortable. All things have a purpose.”

Staring back at those red eyes, he frowned, “Now why would you have this—a huge black dragon, down here, pretending to guard something to precious? He looks like Brann!”

Stepping up, the Elder ran a tender hand over the muscular neck of the statue. “It is.”

“That…doesn’t make any sense. Why have a statue of the enemy down here?”

Delnar continued staring up at the statue, “But he was not always BränmiekkäVe. Once upon a time he was trusted and honored.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “but that was long ago. Why is the statue still here?”

With a sadness, the High Elder replied softly, “Because now he represents the darkness we must be willing to confront in order to reach the light on the other side.”

Wendell looked up at the giant carving, eyes following the curvature of the broad neck to the shoulders where its enormous wings reached out, enveloping the entire chamber. Wouldn’t have thought of it that way. Learning from the example of what NOT to do, eh? Huh.

Pushing himself upright, he decided to make a full turn around the room, studying the serpent. Wendell looked up to meet the glowing eyes, giant rubies glittering back.

I wonder what you’d say to me if you could talk? he wondered. Probably just snap your huge mouth and eat me instead of talking.

The powerful body curved around the room, its mighty chest looming before two giant doors at the top of seven wide steps.  Giant arms, planted on either side of the steps like mighty oaks, ended in muscular hands, claws the size of spears raking the stones underneath. Giant lidless eyes started at him intensely.

Well THAT’S not intimidating, now is it? Good grief!

“Come now,” the High Elder beckoned, standing at the doors.

Though there was plenty of room, Wendell found himself ducking under the dragon's body to avoid its touch. Step by step he shifted until he stood behind the serpent and in front of the curious doors now barring their way.

Each door had inlaid a singular carved eye, larger than Wendell himself.

The High Elder watched him with what seemed to be a mild amusement, but said nothing.

Wendell stood there, hands at his sides, motionless.

Something felt…wrong. He couldn’t explain it—but something in his gut tugged at him over and over again.

Something warning him not to go further.

It’s just a dream, he reminded himself. Enjoy it while it lasts and let’s finally see what this treasure is!

Then why were his hands clammy?

It’s just a dream, he justified.

Curiosity of what the ‘treasure’ might be was quickly overpowering any internal warnings.

The High Elder walked past him then, slid the staff into a stone cylinder at the side of the stairs, and then placed his hands squarely on the surface of the doors.

Though Wendell guessed the slabs of wood and metal to be at least twenty feet in height, they opened with seemingly little effort.

The High Elder leaned his body against them, and they…opened.

Wendell, expecting an exaggerated, ear-splitting creak, was surprised (and a little disappointed) that they moved in a boring, muffled silence.

Thought my subconscious could pull off something more dramatic than that.

Casually placing his hands back into the folds of his sleeves, the High Elder crossed the threshold into complete darkness.

Wendell, hard on the High Elder’s heels, quickly followed him into the blackness.

FWOOOOSH!

Wendell nearly jumped out of his pants as a searing flame burst from the wall, stinging his face. Widened eyes looked quickly to the High Elder who, unfazed, was already leaving him behind.

FWOOOOSH!

Wendell jumped again.

As the High Elder passed each torch in the circular room, it burst to life with a lusty thrust of flames that would subside into a reasonable torch light. Overly sensitive by the day’s compilation of stresses, Wendell couldn’t help flinching with each new flare, and to the amusement of his guide.

The High Elder kept Wendell in the corner of his eye while allowing each surge of strength from the ancient magic to fill his mind and heart.

It is almost here, he thought to himself, hands trembling in his sleeves—the moment every High Elder before him had waited for, hoped for, even dreamed of. The purpose of the office of a High Elder was to watch over the treasure…to await the arrival of the Hero. Yet never had he imagined that this very event would happen in his lifetime.

“Halt.” His voice boomed with authority. “If you would be so kind as to stand right there, young Wendell. Yes, right there.”

Wendell stumbled to a stop by the doors. Looking down to see what was so important about that particular spot, he was suddenly overwhelmed with vertigo. The floor was moving. His eyes couldn’t focus and he reached out, hoping to lean against the wall, but it was farther away than he expected. Dizzily, Wendell stumbled again, the floor jumping up to meet each of his steps sooner than he expected or tricking his eyes by floating away altogether. Tripping over his own feet, tangled in his arms and legs, Wendell flung himself around, collapsing with a thud against the door frame and sank to the floor.

That headache was making a vicious come back. Wendell rubbed his eyes trying to focus. All those jagged pieces and colors in the floor created an optical illusion.

Ok, I’m not nuts….I DO know how to walk. What sick person thought a design like that would be a good idea?

Sighing in patient exasperation, the High Elder moved to offer him a hand. “Are you alright?”

Wendell nodded, standing upright.

Turning his back to Wendell, his undaunted heart was still pounding with excitement as he began the ritual movements. Pulling the hood over his head and rolling back the sleeves on his robe, the High Elder reverently stepped down into the very center of the chamber. Crafted with a thousand more fragments of crystal and stone, the steps and floor were shaped into an enormous living eye. The round, wet-looking pupil witnessing all within the chamber.

Chanting in some unintelligible language, the High Elder began slowly waving and weaving his bare blue arms in intricate patterns. As he did so, the eye beneath his feet radiated a deep blue light. Seeping along the cracks of crystal, the colored light rose like smoke, swirling itself around the body of the High Elder as he continued to softly chant.

Wendell listened closely to the strange guttural sound. It didn’t sound like any language he’d ever heard and he wanted to laugh at first. Yet between the rhythmic words and precise motions of the High Elders arms and hands in the midst of the swirling lights, Wendell soon found himself mesmerized.

A ghostly echo of voices pulsed through the walls, joining their presence to the chant and filling the room around them.

The High Elder, now swaying his upper torso to the words he uttered, spread his feet in a wider stance, and slowly raised his hands upward. Blue light continued to seep through the great eye, rolling up the High Elder’s robe, around his waist and up his arms until it reached his hands. There the light gathered around his fingers, slowly rotating into a sphere between his palms.

The edge of his hood fell back…and Wendell noticed the High Elder was not observing the light at all, but looking past it.

Wendell followed his gaze…and gasped quietly in awe.

Suspended high overhead, were twelve monstrous carved hands.

At first, Wendell believed them to be real. He couldn’t tell what they were made of. Maybe it was the color of the wood, or stain, or stone…or whatever the artist did to bring out the lifelike curves and color, but the arms and hands seemed aged, gentle and strong, stretching out from the stone walls to cradle something—holding something in place.

“Aläshä et Veyomä!” the High Elder shouted, startling Wendell. The blue light which had been collected into his palms, sprang from his hands, striking the stone carvings overhead with such force the floor and walls trembled.

Wendell held tight to the doorframe, struggling to keep his balance.

Behind the fingers a glorious, white light pulsed to life, rays escaping through the gaps between fingers and hands like sunshine cutting through dark clouds.

“Behold,” a thundering voice, not at first recognized as the High Elders, pierced Wendell clear through, “the glorious Ithäri!”

The rumble of stone vibrated in the walls. The hands unfolded, gently withdrawing from one another, carefully lowering and releasing their treasure without ever touching it.

“HOLY FREAKIN’ COW!” Wendell burst, his mouth dropping open while he ran flapping and leaping to the High Elder’s side.

The source of light filling the chamber, sparkling and shimmering to drown out the torches…was a diamond bigger than Wendell’s closed fists.

Looking excitedly to the High Elder for permission first, he stepped forward and quickly flicked his hand out over and under the diamond.

No strings.

“It is yours,” said the High Elder.

“It’s wha-huh?” replied Wendell, not taking his eyes off the diamond.

“The Gem. It belongs to you.”

Wendell blinked. Hard. His fingers twitched and trembled as he reached out towards the floating babe magnet. Yet he hesitated. “Mine? You’re serious? I know you said ‘treasure’, but I was expecting a stamp collection or something. Not this!”

The High Elder grinned. “You now behold the greatest gift a mortal can receive. All you have to do is accept the gift…and it is yours.”

“SwEET!” squealed Wendell, snatching it out of the air. Even in his wildest imaginings Wendell never dreamed a diamond this size existed. It was HUGE!

…and the blue guy says it’s all mine?

Surprisingly, the gem was warm to the touch and heavier than he expected. He rubbed its surface with his fingers as he brought it to his cheek.

This isn’t a bad dream after all!

It was, in fact, the kind of dream you wanted to have and not wake up from.

The High Elder raised an eyebrow, “Ahem.”

“My presssciousss,” Wendell whispered, a stupid, goofy grin creeping across his face. Bringing his shoulders forward, he curled his body around the Gem, squeezing it tight to his chest, completely ignoring the High Elder.

Wendell couldn’t believe his luck. He looked at the diamond, caressing, hugging, planning.

This was The Supermodel Magnet!

Oh, yes! Who needs ‘the Plan’? They will want to talk to me now! His mind raced. There’s a diamond bigger than any woman’s fantasy in the palm of my hand. IN MY HAND!! Man, oh, man! I could… He chuckled out loud,…buy anything I want with this thing! Cars, boats, a house, no…a MANSION…AHAHAHA!!! Anything I can imagine at the shopping mall back home! Heck—I can buy the shopping mall! Vivid thoughts of supermodel girlfriends, wrapping themselves around each arm teased his mind. Oh, yeah—I’m the man!

“Wendell, do you accept the gift?”

The High Elder’s words hit Wendell like ice water in the face, waking him from his model-induced daydream. The gift. Accept the…? He paused, clutching the gem tightly between his fingers and raising it to eye level.

It was beautiful.

Why does that sound like a loaded question?

His gut churned, aching…like the words had punched him.

It’s that feeling, again. Something is about to happen…I just… It was a familiar feeling. One that had preserved him when he listened and left scars when he had not—especially in high school. Broken nose, broken fingers, humiliation, pain. I’m not doing this again. High school is out. Besides, this is a dream and I should be in charge of my dream…not manipulated by it, right? After a moments consideration, he glanced up. “What’s the catch?” he asked.

“Catch?” replied the High Elder. “There’s no catch, my young friend…it belongs to you and you alone, Wendell. My duty is only to make sure you received what was rightfully yours, no more. You just have to be willing to accept the gift.” Yet, something in his casual tone whispered something else to Wendell.

I think being called ‘friend’ is more uncomfortable than being called  ‘Lord’. He shook his head. “No. There’s always a catch. Something you want. Something I have to give. There has to be something. People don’t do stuff for free—even when it’s with good intent.”

Puffing up his chest, the High Elder looked offended. “The gem is not mine to bargain with. It belongs to you and you alone. My duty, and what my office as a High Elder specifically requires of me at this very moment, is to make sure you receive what is rightfully yours. I am not a judge. You are fulling in charge here.  So I ask again, do you accept the gift?”

Wendell snorted. “Are you joking?!” he laughed, glancing down at the gem gripped in his now white-knuckled grip. “Look buddy—if you’re willing to give me this thing, of COURSE I want it! Look at the SIZE of it!! I hang this around my neck and BA-BLING!! I’ll be the envy of every gold toothed rapper alive.”

The High Elder shook his head. “No, you do not understand. You must, by the magical law which binds the Gem to this chamber, actually say that you ‘accept the gift’. Those exact words are what will allow it to leave this chamber and go with you.”

Wendell tossed the Gem back and forth in between his hands like a softball. “Okay.” Then waving the Gem at the elder, “I… accept…the gift,” his voice dripping in sarcasm.

Before the last sounds left his lips, the Ithäri jumped from Wendell’s hands.

Tha-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP!

Shimmering as it slowly rotated in midair, Wendell watched the gem pulse.

Tha-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP!

Light flickered, mimicking his own heartbeat.

“Hey, get back here!” Wendell muttered, raising a hand to snatch it back.

But the gem shifted to the side, just out of reach.

…and then started to spin.

Wendell shied away.

With each step back, the gem followed, like a synchronized magnet. When Wendell shifted to the side, the Ithari followed, pulsing brighter.

Worried, he looked to the High Elder.

Standing perfectly still in the doorway, he just smiled, displaying a rascally-triumphant smile that would haunt Wendell for years, every time he closed his eyes.

“THIS SOUL IS GOOD.

WE ACCEPT THE HOST.”

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. It clearly resonated in Wendell’s ears, reverberating in his bones and deeper. It called to his soul.

“Woah! It talks?!” squeaked Wendell, stumbling away from the Gem and away from the High Elder. Reeling, he shouted at his feet to Run!…but somehow, in his heart, he knew.

It was too late.

Okay, this…uhhh, this is freaking me out now. Yup, gonna go home. Or wake up. Yeah. Time to leave, people. Starting to feel like the Wizard of Oz meets the Texas Chainsaw Massacre and I don’t have any ruby slippers. I’ve decided I don’t like this dream after all. I’m outta here…

Yet Wendell lowered his eyes. A myriad of emotions paraded through his thoughts, crowding his mind. Flashes of his family, pictures of mother, father, siblings…vacations in Idaho and the trophy fish he knew dad had actually caught, but gave him credit for.

Vacation time jumped to the long and painful walks in hospital halls, pushing his father in a wheelchair for the next in a seemingly endless series of chemotherapy treatments. The images of kissing his weak and frail father on the head shifted to standing with his mother, looking down upon his fathers coffin.

No…I don’t want to see this again. Please, don’t show me this again.

Wendell found himself yearning for the things he wished he’d done, regret for not making more of his life…and ashamed..for ever doing things that more than likely embarrassed Evan, and his parents.

In an instant, he felt mentally spent, emotionally naked and utterly exposed.

A hot wave coursed through his body, like water, rising up over his skin, sapping his strength. Within moments Wendell dizzy, his bones aching and his legs losing their strength.

Wendell swayed on his feet.

His stomach rolled, and he desperately fought a growing urge to vomit…while all his other organs seemed to develop wills of their own. Each organ shifted, pinched, stretched, and compressed.

What’s going…on? What’s happening to me?!? His skin tingled, as if a thousand bugs crawled over his arms, legs, neck and face. Wendell shivered as he became aware of each and every hair on the surface of his body, air currents rolling over his exposed arms and neck.

Every throbbing beat of his racing heart echoed through his skull, mirrored in the pulsing Gem.

Tha-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP!

“Urk!” he choked, then “Gak!” eyes widening.

He doubled over in pain, the flesh of his chest burning.

“ARRRGH!” he screamed.

Wendell pulled at his shirt frantically, scratching, tearing.

Tha-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP!

His temples pounded with the beat as it got harder to breathe. His heart ached as it labored intensely.

Tha-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP!

Tha-THUMP!

His ribcage expanded, his organs pushing against them…the veins in his neck and head bulging under the pressure.

Pain bombarded his body as Wendell wailed in agony.

“WHAT’S HAPPENING? HELP ME…PLEASE!”

But the High Elder was gone.

The light grew brighter now, the pulsing rhythm keeping pace with his erratic heartbeat. Distracted by a disconcerting sensation, Wendell looked down at his feet.

He was rising off the floor, the giant eye now looking up at him.

“No, wait…this isn’t…right,” he grunted, “this is MY dream. I know I’m dreaming, so I’m in control!”

Another wave of pain, his lungs pushed tightly against his ribs…and his head fell back. For the first time, Wendell glanced up.

The gentle hands, which he had held the Ithari, though he had never seen them move, were now palm down, fingers spread wide.

A stone cage.

From the corner of his eye, Wendell discovered the High Elder. He stood motionless, arms folded in his robes, the eery smile still upon his face.

“Wait!” screamed Wendell to him. “I’ve changed my mind—I don’t want it anymore! Did you hear me!? I DON’T WANT THE GEM!!”

The High Elder just stood there…a smiling stone statue.

“Please, sir!” cried Wendell, his eyes blood red, barely containing the internal pressure. His arms and legs seized so forcefully he felt his bones would snap. He wanted the dream to end…NOW! Squeaky and high-pitched, Wendell pleaded, “PLEASE!!”

“I would not change this even if I could, my Lord Wendell,” came the High Elders voice. There was no mockery or anger in the tone. In fact, he sounded calm, almost caring…even excited. “You have accepted the gift that will change all our lives forever.”

“By the way,” the High Elder added, holding up a finger. “The next few moments may ‘sting’ a little.”

Rings of light materialized, binding Wendell’s wrists and ankles, constricting his chest just under his arms as well as at his waist…forcing him to arch his back. The position made it nearly impossible to breathe.

Wake up, Wendell. Wake up!! he screamed to himself.

Incensed, fueled by lies, malicious abuse, confinement, and the High Elder’s apathy, Wendell bellowed “LET ME GO!!” With his last breath, he pulled, stretched and exerted every fiber of his being against the shackles.

The rings of light held fast.

What did I do to deserve this?? Wendell inwardly sobbed. Why can’t I wake up?

The gem, he now noticed, had repositioned itself.

Still matching his movements, it was tilted—the pointy underside of its surface aimed at him and…spinning. Spinning like a drill bit.

Faster and faster.

Squinting, Wendell tried to focus through the pulsing light.

And then it was gone.

Wendell didn’t have a chance to react.

Blood sprayed in front of his face.

Ribs snapped as it passed through his shirt, the flesh in his chest, and forced its way through bones.

The world around him began to slow and then suddenly, he was free.

Fleetingly, his eyes flickered back and forth across the room–trying to find someone to help.

His body shook with unspeakable pain.

Blood, warm and sticky, covered his hands.

Mesmerized by the deep nightmarish red, he just…stared.

Wendell couldn’t feel his heart beating, just an echo of the pounding in his head.

A thin whispered sigh escaped his lips.

It was over.

He felt cold, a hollow chill crawling from his heart through each organ, every vein, and fading in his fingers and toes.

The dude in the dress killed me with the Gem from hell.

Weary, he let his head roll back.

I’m so sorry, mom—I never should have left home.

Suddenly, Wendell realized with a refreshing clarity and disbelief, the terror of his new found truth.

This was not a dream.

…and then he fell.