The Earth rotates at 1000 mph, orbiting the sun at 66,500 mph, while the sun and its system are circling the core of the Milky Way galaxy at 600,000 mph, making one complete revolution in 200 million years. Now, the Milky Way in turn, orbits a super cluster of 2,500 nearby galaxies at over 1,000,000 mph and simultaneously moves outward through space at over 300,000 mph.

So, if we take these calculations into consideration, we will always come to the exact same conclusion.

We’re moving pretty fast.

All of these celestial objects moving through space with such precision that it seems very silly to me, that some say it all happened by accident. Logistically speaking, one could look like a bug splattered against a windshield if one didn’t know what one was doing.

It takes specific laws, organized minds, and invisible hands to direct the stellar traffic down the trackless highways of galactic space.

Nothing happens by accident.

Those who love you will suffer.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Wendell was a nobody.

No one every paid attention to him before.

He didn’t have aspiring goals, not because he couldn’t think of them or desired them, but because life had shown him up until now that it didn’t matter what he wanted, he wouldn’t likely achieve them. So why bother?

Beautiful, wonderful, amazing girls never had an interest in Wendell either. Just didn’t happen.

Which meant the events of the last few minutes weren’t possible.

It had to be a dream.

…only it wasn’t a dream.

A beautiful, wonderful, amazing girl…just had her life taken.

Why does that sound familiar? Hunting through his memories, Wendell felt desperate. Why did it say that to me?

Watching silently as dozens of loving hands carried Kyliene’s body away, he was not bound by time. A juxtaposition of a tormented mind and body.

Frozen.

Come on, Wendell, remember…remember blast you!

A demon had brought a dead body to life, It looked right at me…and knew me!

It talked right to me.

He shivered.

That look. What does it mean? Those who love you will suffer.

The words preyed on his mind.

Is Kyliene’s death…my fault?

Everyone around him seemed to have a purpose. Except Wendell.

People helping one another up, comforting each other, softly consoling, encouraging…and wadding slowly back towards their homes.

This is not your fight.

A haunting whisper on the cold breeze seized his chest. Grasping at it, understanding was just on the edge of his mind.

Wendell flinched as an elder moved in his peripheral vision.

Shadows.

It was a shadow…on the river bank.

His pulse hesitated, his mind once more slinking into fog.

Wendell felt the shove from behind, falling to his hands and knees.

I was dead. That’s where I heard it first. That voice…

Go home.

Terror, ripped from his gut, erupted through his lips, “Ughaaaah!” as a muffled cry.

His chest heaved, lungs gasping for breath as panic took him.

Once again making his senses shrink, Wendell remembered the foul, sticky breath caressing his neck, laughing in cruel mockery:

THIS ISN’T YOUR FIGHT, BOY.

WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?

GO HOME…OR YOU AND THOSE

WHO LOVE YOU WILL SUFFER.  

He didn’t know how…and he didn’t know why, but Wendell was painfully certain at that moment that somewhere between life and death, the Lord of Darkness had found him.

This evil or person the High Elder had talked about…was afraid of, had found Wendell during his short time here.

Whoever this Mahan was, he was making good on his threat.

Kyliene was dead.

The very thought nearly caused his heart to stop.

Kyliene was dead.

Wrapped in the white cloth, Kyliene’s body looked so tiny and delicate. Reverently the people bowed their heads as Caleb guided his grandmother at the head of the procession.

Wendell wanted to follow.

He wanted to run to Nana and ask her forgiveness for not doing something…anything, to save her. But guilt held him rooted in place.

Goodbye, Kyliene. I’m so sorry.

Leaving the people to their rituals, the elders gathered in small groups and began walking to the bridge.

Elder Tiell still needed tending.

Wendell shifted his attention in time to see a wood plank being carried by an animated plant, gliding across the ground. The writhing of the plant gave the impression of swirling green smoke, rolling across the grass and being attended to by a slender, female elder.

Probably Elder Jiin, his mind registered numbly.

Others gathered around, working as one to shift the broken and unconscious body of elder Tiell onto the plank. Once situated, and with a few clicking noises from the woman’s mouth, the sentient plant lifted the plank and glided towards the arched bridge of the Keep.

Even in the midst of all these people, Wendell was one more alone.

It’s the way he’d felt all his life.

He didn’t belong.

Glancing to where he witnessed the vines pierce the ground and bind the vallen…nothing remained. His feet shuffled through the grass, stopping where the elders had performed their powerful magic. With such a show of force, Wendell expected to see some sort of charred spot burned into the ground. Yet there was not a mark, not a hole in the grass where the roots had shot through, not even a trace of blood from the creature.

The grass looked freshly cut, each blade trembling and bending in the light breeze.

It was if the enemy had simply ceased to exist.

Wendell stared intently at that spot, pictures of the vallen’s sadistic grin pummeling his mind.

Was it really looking for me?

Without warning, his legs wobbled and…gave out, sending him onto the grass. It was looking for me! I’m who knows how many miles o-or light years from home and some evil, crazy killer was looking…for ME!

Heart pounding, he gasped for breath, hands tugging at his collar.

I haven’t done anything to make people mad at me. Not yet, anyway—I haven’t been here long enough! But that wasn’t the most disturbing thought. What would that thing have done to me if it had gotten it’s hand ON me?

Surely it would have been better than that thing getting a hold of Kyliene!

He looked down at the Ithari, poking it lightly with his index finger. “You would have protected me, right? I mean, that’s your job, correct?”

He waited, but felt no response.

I should have done something. Anything.

Wendell felt overwhelmed by relief that the demon could not relay its secrets.

What else lurks out there in the great I-don’t-know-how-flippin-huge-this-world-is that wants me dead as well?

He sighed heavily.

A heavy hand gripped Wendell firmly by the shoulder, causing him to start.

“Do not dwell on this, Wendell,” whispered the High Elder, “as hard as it is. Better to remember the blessings enjoyed.”

Is that all? Wendell was shocked. It must have shown on his face.

The High Elder’s hands disappeared into his sleeves and he smiled thoughtfully, eyes moist. “He who committed the crime has paid the ultimate price. I take comfort in knowing that Kyliene’s soul lives on.

“But there is nothing that will take the pain away. Not for me…and not for you. Kyliene touched our lives in her own, unique way and she owns that part of our hearts. A part that is now gone. We will forever be incomplete without her…for she cannot be replaced, Wendell.”

Standing tall, the High Elder waited until Wendell stood up and looked him directly in the eyes. “We will have good days and bad days…but we will never get better. We will simply learn to live with the pain of loss.”

Placing a hand on Wendell’s shoulder, the High Elder said softly, “It is time, now, to meet with the Council.”

Wendell nodded and wrapped his arms around his lean frame, numbly placing one foot in front of another. The dull rhythm of the pace allowed him to cast his eyes on the path ahead of him, and shut out the world. He glanced at the elders ahead of him—strangers quietly conversing as they walked through the darkness.

Probably about me, he thought, hearing the swishing robes and catching the curious expressions with the occasional quick glance back. He didn’t bother acknowledging them, he just averted his stare.

Is Kyliene’s death my fault? His mind couldn’t let go of the image of her lying lifeless upon the ground or that knowing look from the possessed giant. This is not my fight? But it killed my friend.

Shea bowed to the High Elder, cutting off their path.

The look on his face was grave, nearly demanding the High Elders attention.

“Father, it is urgent that we speak.”

Falling into a sluggish rhythm, Wendell moved around them, without saying a word, without looking up and continued to shuffle up the bridge while the High Elder held back.

What was I supposed to do? What could I have done. The questions kept coming to his mind. No, that’s not the right question, Wendell. If you’re expected to be some kind of hero, you have to know what you’re supposed to do! He could talk himself out of any responsibility—he had always been good at that. Keep it all in perspective, right? He was just a kid. A stranger. But, he possessed the Ithäri—the heroes gem—expected to save all life…that’s what the High Elder had said.

WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO? screamed over and over in his head.

What will they do with me now? Am I to be punished? Is there some sort of training time for this thing in my chest…or is everyone my responsibility now?

Is it too late for me to go home?

But something new made him cringe inside. A conflict that made his heart ache and shrink.

Will more Iskäri die if I leave?

…or will they suffer if I stay?

The questions pricked his mind as a painful sting, swelling the longer they went unanswered.

Wendell didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the intensity of the whispers behind him disturbed the cocoon around his thoughts. Both the High Elder and his son had resumed walking, keeping pace behind.

“Father, what have you done?”

Wendell moaned. Please, wait until I’m farther away. I can still hear you.

He quickened his step to get further from the escalating tension, but Wendell couldn’t block out all the pleading whispers of the young elder.

“…reason for our traditions…”

“…no connection to this people…”

“…out of order…”

“…what will we do now?”

Is he talking about me?

Wendell listened for the High Elder’s response, but the leader said very little.

“We will resolve this in council,” is all.

Reaching the terrace, Wendell lingered, not wanting to plunge into a confrontation with a room full of authority figures. Every part of his body hurt and he wanted to cry…to scream out loud or even to break something, but it simply lingered—hovering just close enough to sting, but not enough to resolve.

“You alright, kid?”

Dax and Chuck stood alone in a far corner of the terrace. The breeze had a chilly bite due to the waterfalls and it swirled indecisively through the terrace giving the wizard’s long stringy beard a life of its own. The old man was engaged in an animated discussion with a hanging plant, while casually leaning against the balustrade. He puffed on a willowy pipe as Dax aggressively worked on a cigar. Dax was staring right at him.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know that, right?” Dax said softly.

At first glance, it seemed almost strange that words of comfort could come out of a being that looked so tough, so harsh and mean. The smoldering embers of the cigar lit up Dax’s face, creating a red tinge to his skin color in the nights light.

“No one else has said that,” Wendell replied, approaching with caution.

The Evolu snorted, a smirk on his face. “Don’t put too much stock in these blueberries and their opinions. They’re a bunch of bureaucrats, driven by their own purposes.”

“Isn’t everyone?” Wendell replied.

“Maybe,” shrugging, “maybe not. Some of us just want a quiet life and are willing to go with the flow.”

Wendell smirked, “Isn’t that still a purpose?”

Dax pondered, then smirked himself, “You’re probably right.”

Chuck excused himself from the conversation with the plant and politely tipped the brim of his hat. “Morphiophelius Smith, at your service. And you are?”

Wendell raised an eyebrow.

“It’s the kid, Chuck,” sighed Dax. “You met him in the park, not more than twenty minutes ago.”

“I did?”

Wendell nodded.

The wizard looked confused, but quickly put a smile back onto his face. “Must not have been much of a first impression!” Then, leaning closer, he whispered, “Good thing I’m senile…it’ll give you another shot to do so much better, eh?”

Dax sighed.

Grinning wide, Chuck gave Wendell a wink. “You look a bit lost, son.”

“I’m…just waiting to go in and meet with the Council.”

“That’s not what I mean,” the wizard replied. “Not outwardly lost…but on the inside. Conflicted. Confused. Distressed. Not knowing where you belong or where to go,” his grin grew wider, “…or what you’re supposed to do.”

Wendell’s head perked up, “What did you say?”

Chuck’s grin vanished in a flash. “I said pull up a seat and rest a spell! You look exhausted.” Tapping his staff on the ground, the stones of the terrace merged together, growing into a wide, brown leather recliner. “Sit.”

Wendell had thought he felt completely numb until he flopped down into the chair. The weight of his impending decisions crashed in on him. Every muscle in his body ached, screaming in revolt. He pushed deeper into the chair, wrapping his arms tightly about him, he attempted to hide his shaking.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up to see the High Elder and Shea deep in conversation, walking across the terrace and directly into the Keep.

The High Elder barely paused to glance at Wendell and then, giving a nod to the wizard, resumed his course.

Wendell rose to follow after them, but Chuck hooked his arm with his staff, holding him back.

“I’d give them a few minutes, son. The blueberries need time to regroup before they meet as a Council. A lot’s happened tonight. They have more to discuss than they realize yet. Take a moment for yourself—they’ll come and get us when they’re ready.”

“You’re going in too?”

The wizard nodded. “They sent notice to me as soon as you arrived.” Tapping his legs, “Don’t move as fast as I used to.”

Nodding feebly, Wendell sat back down. “You look like me.”

Chuck choked on the smoke from his pipe and started coughing. “I what?” He gave Dax an odd look, “I don’t look that bad….do I?”

“You’re not blue, I mean,” Wendell clarified and then gave Dax a leery sideways glance, “…or green, like him.”

“Oh, yeah,” the wizard nodded. “Pinkie. That’s me.” He leaned in closer with a wink. “It’s because I prefer cheeseburgers, fries and a large chocolate malt to all their home grown fruit and fiber. Just cause I like eating blueberries doesn’t mean I want to grow up to be one, eh?”

Wendell laughed lightly, surprised he had it in him. He was warming under the torchlight and enjoyed the distraction.

Dax grunted, rolling his eyes. “Um, hey kid… I’m sorry,” he fumbled for the right words, “the High Elder said…well…for…ya know—whackin’ ya around like that.” He shrugged. “It was justa bit a fun.”

He’s apologizing? Wendell’s eyebrows arched high in surprise. “Uh,…sure.”

Dax shrugged again, quickly turning away.

Chuck smirked, “Now doesn’t that feel better, when you say you’re sorry?”

Dax glared at the wizard, grinding his teeth together, “Oodles.”

“Say!” blurted Chuck, startling Wendell as he bounced forward. “Look what I just got!” The wizard swiftly pulled off his pointy hat, reached in up to his armpit and rummaged around. An amusing minute passed while Wendell attempted to not gawk. Sounds of books falling over, and metal upon metal…even glass crashing to the floor echoed as if from a large hall. All the while, the wizard mumbled and grunted to himself, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth.

Did he just say, Mahan’s pink panties?

“Ah, hah!” Chuck leaned over the chair and shoved a small, white, rectangular device into Wendell’s hands. It had a three inch screen and a set of earphones plugged into it.

“Hey,” Wendell stared boggled. “This is an—”

“uPod,” finished Chuck pointing excitedly, “I KNOW! And I got the latest season of Trench Wars!”

Looking at the wizard suspiciously he insisted, “No, I was going to say an—”

“uPod. Useful Partitioning Of Data,” Chuck quickly clarified. “Great gadget for carrying songs and movies on the go! I keep it mainly for Trench Wars and my Break of Reality music collection. Incredible band from New York. Three cellos and a drummer.” He winked at Wendell again.

“New York?” Wendell asked, barely above a whisper.

“Oh, you wouldn’t know it. It’s a big city on a little, backwater planet,” then chuckling at his private joke, “in a galaxy far, far away.”

Dax moaned.

Momentarily speechless, Wendell looked between the uPod and Chuck’s grin while digesting. Unable to contain his exasperation, he almost yelled, “Who ARE you people!?! Are you from Earth? …Where are you FROM??”

Cocking his head to the side with a raised eyebrow, Chuck drawled, “I’m from Elämä.”Why? Where are YOU from?”

Bending closer to Dax’s big ear, Chuck cupped his mouth and in a loud exaggerated whisper, “I think the boy just snapped a noodle.”

Nudging Wendell, Dax rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind him, kid. I don’t understand what he says half the time.”

Chuck shrugged, “That’s the public school system for you.”

“Shut up, Chuck.”

“I’m just saying…”

Ignoring Chuck, Dax changed the subject. “We have a friend competing in Trench Wars. It’s a TV show…and she made it to the finals!” Pointed to the uPod, “Just push the bottom of the wheel.”

“TV show?”

“Yeah.”

Wendell blinked, “As in…television?”

Dax scoffed, “Duh.”

Wendell glanced around at the torches lighting up the terrace. “Right. Silly of me.” He pushed the play button and inserted one of the earphones, glancing between Dax and Chuck.

Both grinned with excited anticipation.

Spotlights flared across the floor of a dingy, dirty warehouse. Scraps of metal, crates, barrels and broken glass were strewn about while thousands of people screamed from the stands overhead.

A resounding boom echoed through the warehouse as a giant robot flew into view, slamming into the corner, sparks and smoke fuming from its chest.

The crowd cheered as a second robot smashed through crates and a half wall. It was smaller than the first, but it carried a large, spiked mace in one hand. Flames shooting from its feet propelled it into the air high over the prone robot. Preparing to strike again it gripped the mace in both steel hands.

Rotating its head forward, the prone robot was not helpless…and a wide barrel gun flipped forward, appearing where the face used to be. Flashing a brilliant red, a laser beam incinerated the attacker’s mace, sending the robot into a midair spin.

The crowd went wild, cheering, screaming and rattling the protective chain-link fence separating the fans from the robots.

Dax was getting all worked up. He flashed a wide, toothy, freaky-looking grin. “Gnomes have the coolest sports on Elämä!” he exclaimed.

Wendell stared at the screen and frowned.

“What,” Dax started, “you don’t like it?”

“No, it’s not that, I…” but he didn’t have the words. This was all too much to take in. Too much to understand.

Robots? Television? Torches? Gnomes, giants…magic?

He imagined hearing the crackling and smelling the burn. Definitely on sensory overload.

Wendell dropped the uPod and gripped the sides of his head to contain the pounding in his temples. “You have science and technology here? I thought this was a world of magic. You know, like what I saw in the park today, or…you making this chair. You know…magic.”

“Think of it this way, kid,” Dax replied, “If you were a backwoods farmer and had never seen more than the cow and plow you used all the days of your life, what would you call what you just saw? Red beams shooting from faces, jumping higher than a building…”

Wendell pondered. He’d often wondered what a Hollywood movie like Star Wars or Lord of the Rings would look like to someone in the 1800’s if you could go back in time. There was really only one solid answer.

“Magic?”

Dax grinned. “Exactly. It’s just a word for what we don’t understand, isn’t it?” pointing at the uPod, “Gnome ‘magic’. Neato stuff…IF you can get your hands on it. Though…don’t get caught with it by any of the decent folk around here…they consider is taboo.”

Accepting that simple explanation, Wendell looked up at Chuck with a yearning expression. “You really have cheeseburgers and fries here?” He suddenly longed for the comfort of something simple, something easy, something familiar.

Chuck grinned wide and nodded. “Or deep dish pizza if you prefer. You name it and we could probably figure out how to make it or get it. The possibilities are almost endless. Well…when you have the right connections, if you know what I mean? Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.”

Echoing through the archway, an angry yell emerged from inside the Keep. “DAAAAAAAAX!”

All three of them froze, looking to the archway.

“Sounds like they’re ready for us,” gulped Dax.

Chuck gave him a sympathetic smile, patting him on the head, “Don’t stress. It’ll be find. You’ll see.”

Making their way through the Keep to the High Elders office, Chuck led them to the stairs Wendell had used earlier to descend into the Key. This time he ascended past the slim windows of stained glass and into a narrow hallway ending at a set of double doors.

Chuck held Wendell back as they approached.

“This is the Bedurrim, son. The private meeting chamber of the Iskäri High Council.” Leaning forward he dropped his tone to a whisper, “No matter what happens, you’ll do fine if you remember that you have two ears and one mouth. Got it?”

Making a mental note, pay attention, don’t talk too much, got it. “Sure,” Wendell agreed.

Chuck gave them all a grin, a nod and a, “He we go, boys,” before pushing open the doors.

The Bedurrim was a large, round chamber thick with the smoke of incense—the sweet, woodsy scent welcoming them in.

“Come forward, Wendell,” the High Elder’s voice was firm, reaching out from the haze, before they three could even see clearly in the room.

Waving his hands in front of him Wendell peered through the smoke before taking a couple tentative steps. Light was filling the chamber from a stone shelf of fire that encircled them high above their heads. The flicker of the flames cast dancing shadows playfully across the floor.

Not sure what was expected of him, Wendell paid more attention to his feet as he stepped slowly out of the haze into the center of the room.

Come on, Wendell. You can do this.

It crossed his mind that he had said that to himself a lot since he got here. Unfortunately, he wasn’t all too sure anymore.

They chose you, remember that.

Fear of the unknown pumped fresh adrenaline through his veins.

What are they going to think of me? Condemnation, retribution, pleading, bullying, disgust, hatred, mockery…? All the events leading up to this moment left each of these as justifiable reactions in Wendell’s mind. I’ve dealt with those before. I’m used to the abuse. Gem or no Gem, Hero or not—apparently, some things are consistent no matter what planet you’re on.

Raising his head, his eyes found those of the High Elder seated straight ahead of him.

On a platform raised two steps above the main floor, he sat in the center of a half circle of fifteen similar chairs—all but one occupied by robed elders. Six black robes, six white, and dividing the two groups were three golden robes of the High Elder and his two counselors. All had their hoods drawn, masking all but there mouthes and a minor glimmer of eyes, hiding in shadows.

Elder Tiell, bandaged and in a clean white robe, was lying on a cot near the unoccupied seat, observing silently through glazed eyes, his head propped up on a folded white blanket.

Standing amongst them Wendell almost felt naked and exposed as the heat of each stare burned into him.

“My brothers and sisters of the Council, may I present the youth retrieved from the world Earth…Wendell.” There was little emotion in the High Elder’s tone, though he did notice an edge to it, making Wendell nervous.

I recognize that voice. That’s a ‘somebody is in trouble’ voice.

“Thank you, Wendell.” The High Elder nodded to a bench aside the door. “Please take a seat.”

That’s it? That’s…all I have to do? Well THAT was easy!

Looking around, Chuck caught his eye. The wizard seemed baffled, too, shrugging his shoulders.

Wendell sat.

“Dax, stand forth,” commanded the High Elder.

Dax moved to the center of the Bedurrim, with an bemused smirk on his lips. Each step had a mild strut to it that whispered defiance and rebellion.

The High Elder stood slowly, pulling back his hood to expose a sweating scalp that reflected the dancing flames above him.

“You have failed this council in your responsibilities and have, by your own actions, placed not only our people, but a world at risk.”

Dax frowned, “What are you talking abou…”

“It is therefore my duty as the head of this body charge you with treason, Daxänu. How do you plea?”

“Say what!??” Dax snapped loudly, “What kinda crap is this?!?” His thick brows rolled forward as his finger rolled into fists. “I ain’t givin’ a plea to you, nor anyone else, unless you fully explain yourself. I’ve done nuthin’ BUT serve this room of jokers from the moment I moved here, so you better have a damn good reason for that charge!”

Stepping down into the center of the room, the High Elder hovered over Dax, hands clenched into fists behind his back. “You were sent to retrieve the bloodline, were you not?”

Dax nodded calmly, “That’s right.”

“You were given the exact time and exact coordinates as to when and where you should appear?”

“Yup.”

The High Elder loomed in closer, his voice dropping, “And did you appear at the exact time and exact coordinates, as instructed?”

Staring defiantly up into the piercing blue eyes, Dax said loud and clear, “Yes, I did.”

“LIAR!” the High Elder bellowed, arms shooting out and flailing in the air. “Our people…our world now hangs by a thread, because you GRABBED THE WRONG PERSON!”

Wendell’s heart clenched tight and he gasped for air.

I knew it!…I told you so, I told you so!!

Lurching out to a large potted plant, he fell to his knees and plunged his face over the lip…and puked.

Dax had never seen the High Elder so angry. He flinched at the intensity, reflexively raising his hand to protect his face. “I—I don’t understand.”

“The wrong person Dax!” he fumed. “Bestowed with the power we cannot get BACK!”

Dax lowered his hand. “But I did what you told me to! EXACTLY what you told me to!” Thinking through the events quickly, “I went to the kids house, arriving perfectly on time. The kid was sitting there, completely alone! There wasn’t anyone else ta grab, so I grabbed him and brought him to ya!!”

Unprepared for this turn of events, all the blood drained from Wendell’s face. He also learned that sweet buns do not taste as good the second time around.

It felt like someone had shoved a rag in his mouth—and he couldn’t breathe.

The kid’s house? But…I was at Evan’s house. All alone?…Evan had just gone inside. Slapped with the ultimate truth he admitted painfully, They wanted Evan.

Wendell heaved and puked again.

Shea stood up, throwing his hood back and pointing at Wendell, “Does he LOOK like a hero to you, Dax!?”

Everyone looked over at the boy heaving his guts out.

“How am I supposed to know?!” Dax bellowed defensively. Then scratching his scruffy chin, “Do I look like an elf?” He turned his attention back to the High Elder, “By the way…if YOU’d let your kid do HIS job, you wouldn’t BE in this mess!”

The High Elder said nothing.

“Oh, now ya got nothing ta say? You want to go against your precious laws and regulations, to grab this kid in secret…so that’s exactly what I did. Even then this coulda been avoided if ya passed this puking puppy through customs and had yer kid check to see if he WAS the hero BEFORE you impaled him!”

His green chest heaved, sharp teeth glaring. “Wasn’t my job to analyze the pup. My only direction was to pick him up!”

For several moments he locked glares with the High Elder, but in the end, the council leader broke contact.

Dax grinned, “I don’t know what all the fuss is about, anyway,” he continued, looking over at Wendell to give him a comical grin. “Besides his inability ta hold his cookies, the stone took ‘em, didn’t it? Whatcha so worried about!?”

“He is not of the royal bloodline, Dax” hisses the High Elder, “which means he does not have the ability to harness the full measure of Ithäri’s power! You know this! We cannot defeat Mahan and his forces without her full power!”

“It’s ok,” interrupted Wendell meekly. He stood up, wiping the vomit from his mouth with a sleeve. “You can have it back.”

All eyes shifted to him, only the crackling of the fires overhead interrupting his meek voice.

Wendell sat back on the bench, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, barely lifting his head to look up at the Council. “I already talked it over with the High Elder earlier. A month isn’t that long. I can hang out here, in the Keep, so I won’t be any trouble or get in anyone’s way. When the time’s up, I can give you back the gem and Dax can pick up Evan when he takes me home. Simple.”

Growling, Dax’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You didn’t tell him?” he hissed. Clearly incensed, he turned on the High Elder, his voice grew louder with each word. “You have the balls to accuse me of TREASON—and you didn’t tell him!”

“Careful Daxänu,” warned one of the black robes, “Remember to whom you speak.”

Stepping around the High Elder, Dax glared at the council, pointing his finger at each of them. “And you remember where your jurisdiction ends! I ain’t one of you, bub. We had a deal and I kept my end. Don’t want me here? Fine. No skin off my back, I’ll leave. Find yourself another messenger. I obey your little laws cause Chuck asked me to…not cause I give a monkey nutt!”

“Tell me what?” the anxiety and contention lifted Wendell to his feet.

Dax glared at the Council, waiting, but none of them moved.

“Bloody cowards,” he grunted, then looked Wendell square in the face. “What these wusses didn’t tell ya, kid, is that you’re gonna be here a bit longer than a month before that stone drops outta yer chest.”

“A bit?” Even those words didn’t sound like the truth to Wendell at this point. “How much longer is ‘a bit’?”

Dax scratched his head awkwardly, “That thing don’t go by our calendar,…it goes by the cycle of its own world. Because the world is so much bigger than ours, their month is, naturally, longer than ours…”

Wendell’s heart pounded like a jackhammer. Stomach sinking, he asked softly, “How much longer?”

Nobody seemed to want to answer his question, each elder looking away or turning their head.

Dax shook in disgust, but his expression quickly softened. Taking a deep breath and slowly blowing it out through puckered lips, “A thousand years.” He shrugged, “…give or take a decade.”

The floor slipped out from under his feet and Wendell fell off the bench. The general tenor of anger in the room dissipated as everyone anticipated Wendell’s reaction.

A thousand years. A thousand years? A thousand years.

Strained moments of silence stretched past.

A thousand years. A thousand years?

Wendell wasn’t surprised, he didn’t have the strength to be angry, he was simply sinking away. Lifting his head, the deep inconsolable hurt evident in his wincing eyes, fervently hoping someone would say something to make sense of this.

You lied to me. You all lied to me. Every single one of you is guilty and the cause of me ending up here. The cause of me losing the rest of my life…for something I was never supposed to be involved in!

He looked to Dax, then Chuck, and even the elders.

Nobody would meet his gaze.

Except the High Elder.

His expression had completely changed. The lined faded in his forehead, eye widening in seeming concern…and he watched Wendell with a piercing intensity.

Clearing his throat, the High Elder returned to his place in the ring and sat down in his chair. “There is an option.”

All hoods turned to their leader of their Order—but his words were not for them.

“We will send you home, Wendell.”

Increasing whispers and murmurs buzzed scandalously between the hooded elders. Yet the gaze of the High Elder remained on Wendell

A gaze that was peaceful, supportive…even content.

The High Elder tried to smile, but the sadness seeped through.

“Go home, Wendell. Dax is right, the fault is mine.”

Dax’s immense ear perked up, “Can I get that in writing?”

“You’ve suffered enough and I owe you at least that much. So I want you to take the gem and return to your life, as it was.” His words brought fresh air to the room, allowing Wendell to breathe again without pain. “There is an illusion we can teach you, to conceal the gem from discovery. You will live a strong life without illness and in about forty of your years, the gem will return to her home, here.”

Wendell didn’t know what to say.

I can go home? For real?

Chuck reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “See, son? It’s all worked out.”

Wow. I can go…

Listening to the fire fizz and crackle, the room waited for Wendell’s reply.

The words didn’t take long to sink in. He had been hoping to hear them since he got here, of course. All the pressure, the weight, the pain—was gone.

Invigorated, he jumped to his feet with a big grin on his face.

I can go home!

To see his mom and Evan and all his…friends? He might even get back in time for the pool party and the girls. All the girls that didn’t see him. The girls that couldn’t stand to be around him.

Thoughts went out to the wonderful day he’d had earlier. Working hard, being accepted…and remembering her dimple, her smiling eyes and musical voice.

The only girl who ever paid any attention to me was Kyliene.

Wendell wasn’t used to that. The pool party had lost some of its appeal. His life and ‘The Plan’ felt a bit…pathetic, he admitted ruefully.

The kids in the orchard today seemed genuinely happy to have me around. Every single persona I met here has treated me with kindness and acceptance.

But this wasn’t his fight. Was it?

His mind was pulled to the image of Kyliene’s face…and hearing the last breath of life leave her.

That demon killed her so that he could escape Sanctuary and carry word to his master about me.

About me, he wailed internally.

I didn’t kill her, I couldn’t have saved her, but I’m the reason she is dead.

Not my fight?

Go home?—or those who love you will suffer.

Wendell couldn’t think of the words ‘go home’ without the others automatically following.

They’re already suffering!

Caleb wailing over the loss of his sister, the tear stained face of Nana, the whole community mourning the loss of a child.

His thoughts went to his mother. No matter where I am, someone will suffer.

The sinister smile of the vallen took its place in his memories.

If I take the Ithäri…their only hope…and go home…

Wendell didn’t finish that thought, but he felt as if Ithäri shriveled in his chest and went cold.

…those who love you will suffer.

Looking to the High Elder, Wendell found it hard to swallow.

After all this, he’s willing to send me home. To make things right. His mind went to ‘The Plan’. What was I really going to do with my life? Somehow all his plans back home seemed…limited, pointless…and selfish.

Wendell’s eyes dropped to his chest, his hand tapping the surface of the Ithäri.

Why did you accept me, if I wasn’t the right person? Did you see something no one else could see? He squeezed his eyes tight. If you’re willing to work with me, does that mean I CAN have a purpose…even if I’m the wrong guy?

Th-THUMP-THUMP.

Th-THUMP-THUMP.

Th-THUMP-THUMP.

Strength surged through his limbs, the extra beat of his heart louder than ever.

Wendell smiled to himself.

I’ll take that as a yes.

Fixing his eyes on the High Elder once more, he said aloud, “I’m staying.”

Tears welled up in the elders eyes. “Are you certain this is what you want, Wendell?” he asked hopefully. Then with a smirk, “I’m not rushing you or encouraging you to stay. Is this your own free will and choice?”

“Yes,” Wendell said firmly, then rolling his eyes, “This is my choice. I’m not the one everyone was expecting, but,” he placed his hand over the Ithäri, “she accepted me.”

Now he smiled, feeling the surge of strength from within. “I’m willing to find out why.”

Now it was the High Elder that smiled. Standing upright, the rest of the Council followed suit. “As you wish…my Lord Wendell,” and he bowed deeply.

The High Council bowed with him.

Straightening, the High Elder stepped down and motioned Wendell to join him in the center of the Bedurrim. Placing an arm around Wendell shoulders he addressed the Council in a proud voice, “Brothers. Sisters. Wendell has chosen, of his own free will, to stay and serve with the Ithari. In truth, he has saved us from ourselves and will fight with us against the evil rising to enslave our world.”

Looking directly at Wendell, the light of hope bright in his eyes, “I present to you…our Hero.”

His face flushing, Wendell thought, I hope they don’t get their hopes up TOO high.

A heavy set elder in black robes sat forward, “He will need protection, as well as instruction, training and assistance along the way, High Elder.”

The High Elder nodded. “Agreed, Altorin. And I know the perfect companion for him.” Returning to his place in the half-circle, “Dax, stand forth!”

Caught off guard, Dax let his foot drop to the floor and spit his toenail out with a loud Phhht! “Now what!?” He caught the stern looks from his reaction and begrudgingly joined Wendell before the Council.

“Dax, first I would…apologize.” The High Elder didn’t look away, he simply opened his arms, palms up and added, “You were right, my friend. You have been a loyal and faithful messenger and a valuable part of our community since the day you…,” but he paused, “Well, for a very long time.”

Dax smirked, “Sokay, I’ll take any compliment I can get at this point.”

The High Elder’s smug half-smile got bigger, “The Council assigns you as Wendell’s companion…and guardian for the duration of his calling.”

“WHAT!?” Dax choked. “You’re not…you are! You’re serious?! Awww, COME ON! Ain’t that a bit harsh, Delnar?”

A few elders sat forward in their chairs.

The High Elder smiled coolly. “Your skills make you the perfect choice, Dax. You are older than any person in this room, but one. Your skills in battle are nearly unequalled. Your knowledge of the world and,” he tried to suppress a laugh, “it’s more seedy elements are an important skill we will require. That being said, I know of no other to equal your loyalty, determination or qualifications. You are, in my opinion, the perfect guardian for the boy.”

The High Elder looked about the circle, “All in favor?”

The room resounded with a united, “Aye!”

Folding his arms, Dax grunted and rolled his eyes at Wendell with a heavy sigh. “Fairy Farts.”

“Will you, Daxänu, accept this calling, of your own free will and choice?”

Dax stood there, arms folded, a heavy scowl on his face.

“Dax?” the High Elder prompted.

“I’m thinkin! I’m thinkin’!!”

The High Elder lowered his head, creating shadows to fall over his eyes. The gaze looked suddenly stern, his smirk whispering a hint of humor. “Daaaax.”

“Oh all right!” he snapped, “But I want to renegotiate in a hundred years!”

Laughter erupted in the room.

“And what of his instruction concerning the Ithäri?” asked Shea openly. “The High Council’s function has been the keeping and bestowing of the Ithäri. We have no records of how she works, outside what is recorded through the acts of the other heroes!”

Dax shook his head, casually taking another cigar from his waistband and lighting a match across his chin. “Then you’re gonna need a trainer that’s older than your records, kiddo. Someone who knows more about the gem than anyone else.”

“But no one’s older than…” trailing off Shea’s eyes grew wide as he made a connection.

Gasps and muffled curses escaped the Council’s collective lips.

Wendell, warily observed all the wide eyed expressions around him. Then all at once, the Bedurrim erupted into chaos, elders flying from their seats and throwing their hands in the air.

“I don’t get it,” started Wendell, “What just happened?”

Grinning mischievously, Dax puffed on his cigar a few times, casually flicking ashes onto the floor before laughing outright. “I think they just watched their redemption go down the crapper.”

Wendell frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Dax chuckled, amused at the growing stress and commotion. “Their hope doesn’t just rest on a noble kid willing to do whatever it takes. Now it also rests on the insane bantering of a senile old loon in a pointy hat.”

Wendell scratched his head in confusion. “Who could possibly be that bad?”

The startled chamber fell silent as a tomb as right on cue, Chuck shouted “SNOCKHOCKEY!” with a snort.

All eyes turned to the old wizard, fidgeting on the bench, snoring contentedly in a deep sleep.

A little brown bear was tucked under one arm as he sucked his thumb vigorously, knobby knee’s curled up to his chest.

Dax gleefully grinned at Wendell. “I’ll give ya one guess.”