To endure circumstances beyond our control, sometimes we need the right distraction.

“You’re taking this well, considering I just dropped a bomb on your plans.” Wendell watched closely for a reaction.

The High Elder was silent, waiting until they were climbing the stairs to answer. “I have done what my duty demands of me. That is enough.”

Listening to the High Elder scuffle up the steps, Wendell had time to consider his situation.

What now? I’m stuck on an alien planet for a month. Are they going to hide me in this dungeon? I wonder where the girls are. Do they come in an assortment of colors? Hmmm …I do have this huge diamond in my chest. Oooo, wait! It’s supposed to give me magic powers! Wendell was bouncing his head while raising an eyebrow and biting his bottom lip. Can I fly? That would be SO cool if I could fly!

No.

“What?” Wendell asked the High Elder.

He stopped and turned, “Yes?”

“Uh…”

The High Elder waited.

“Uh…never mind,” Wendell quickly amended.

The High Elder turned and resumed climbing the steps in silence.

Weird. Maybe I can shoot lasers from my eyes? Or run at super speed?

No.

Wendell stared at the back of the High Elder’s head, perplexed.

Well…can I…?

No.

“Why not?”

The High Elder stopped once again and turned around. “Why not, what?”

“Why can’t I do anything with this gem? Aren’t I supposed to have magical powers or something?”

Nodding, the High Elder assured him, “Indeed, you are. Your blood, combined with the gem, can make you the most powerful of all Mägo.”

“Mägo?”

Wizard.

“Wizard,” said the elder in unison.

Wendell flinched, looking behind him and then above. He stood there for several moments, staring at the High Elder.

“Are you all right?”

Flustered Wendell asked, “S-so you mean I can, or rather will be able…to actually do magic?”

OH, YES.

The High Elder’s lips never moved! Wendell’s mouth swung open. He yanked the collar of his shirt forward to stare at the Ithäri. A tiny light winked at him.

“Yes, she can,” said the Elder softly.

Wendell looked up, even more confused. “She can, what?”

“Ithäri. You are wondering if she can talk to you. Yes, she can talk…and she will, when you need her. As for the magic, you will quickly learn there are many disciplines and you are one of the very few who can master every one of them.”

Ok, now this is weird…the gem actually has a consciousness and it can communicate with me…and…coooool. Wait. Wait. I can do magic…like REAL magic!??

Yes, you can.

AWESOME! “How much time would it take for me to learn?” he asked hopefully.

The High Elder shrugged his shoulders and continued on up the stairs, “Longer than you have, unfortunately.”

Wendell was beginning to think that this month could be a kind of summer camp experience. He would make a few new friends, learn some tricks, try some new foods, explore and then go home with some great stories. With his indignation diffused Wendell felt confident. He could do this.

“Can I ask another question?”

The High Elder smiled to himself, “You may ask all the questions you desire. I do not know everything, but if I have the knowledge, it is yours.”

Sweet.

“What kind of magic are we talking about? Because I play a lot of role playing and if it’s anything like that, I really want to know more.”

Pondering for a moment, “I’m not familiar with ‘role playing’, but whatever that is, I am grateful it has given you an eagerness to learn more.”

“I mean, do you learn to throw fireballs and take over people’s minds, or…I don’t know, turn invisible?” Just the thought of doing magic had Wendell ready to cheer out loud. Four years in the roleplaying club after school had certainly prepared Wendell to be a wizard, even if he wasn’t actually a half-elf.

For the first time, the High Elder chuckled out loud. “There is a very big world of magic out there, my Lord. My own powers are restricted to this community and my calling as a High Elder. However, I can tell you that there are those who do have power over flame and every other element. There are those who can breathe life into inanimate objects. There are some who speak with and command animals, while others still are able to become the very beasts they converse with.”

Wendell beamed, “You’re kidding me! There are, what did you call them again?”

“Mägo.”

“Yeah, those,…who actually change their forms?”

The High Elder nodded, “There are two upon my Council who can transform into any creature upon land or within water.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“So, does everyone do magic around here, then? I mean, is it common?”

The High Elder reached the top of the stairs and proceeded through the doorway and into his office chamber to the first door Wendell originally came through…on his face. “Common? No. I would not say that mägo are common, though it does tend to vary greatly depending upon the race and culture.”

“Race and culture? I’m not following you.”

Stopping to inspect, the Elder grinned, “You’re following just fine.”

Wendell chuckled, “Right. Good to know.”

“Magic is more openly accepted among my own people, the Evolu and many of the darker races. Then there are the Kutollum…”

“Dwarves,” Wendell replied without thinking.

The High Elder grinned wide, “Exactly. Very good, my lord. The dwarves are tolerant, but not overly active in the arts…and then you have the humans, who are either immersed in magical practice, or shun it like a disease. It depends greatly upon which continent you are standing on and who you are talking to. At the same time, the human mägo are by far the most powerful within the disciplines.”

Suddenly the whole ‘lord’ thing didn’t sound so bad after all. Wendell let the few slips go by without opposition.

“Uhhhh, where are we going?” Wendell’s natural curiosity came out of hiding.

“We are to meet with the High Council pertaining to your arrival. I will return and report to my brethren and present you to them at that time.”

“More Elders?” Wendell hesitated. “Are they blue, too?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “We are all blue.”

“Not Dax. He’s green.”

“Dax is not one of our people, nor does he usually consume our food. His talents give him a rare freedom few enjoy.”

“Oh. Like what?”

“Mainly his teleportation. I know of no other who has his gift. While it takes you and I quite an effort to travel form one place to another, Dax is able to move about as quickly as a thought.”

“Wow.” How would THAT be? “You…said he was a volu…”

“Evolu.”

“Right. What is that?”

An awkward moment passed while the High Elder fumbled for the definition. “That is what some call an elf.”

Wendell laughed, “Dax? An elf? Elves aren’t green!” But he immediately paused, looking concerned, “Are they?”

“No, elves are not green. He is, I admit, an anomaly—but Dax is an Evolu all the same. He looks like a Vallen, which in common tongue means ‘Troll’, but he has Evolu blood.”

“Ee-vaw-loo?” Wendell asked slowly.

“Correct. The Elves.”

Trolls? Elves? Wendell’s head turned from side to side. Incredible. “Next, you’re going to tell me there are gnomes and giants, too.”

Raising his shoulders, the High Elder kept walking and said nothing.

“Seriously?!” This keeps getting cooler by the minute! “You said I’m from this universe. What am I?”

“You, my young friend, are one of us. You are Iskäri.” His smile was genuine and friendly.

How can that be? “But, I’m not blue.”

“Nor would you become so even in your mortal lifetime. The pigment of our skin comes from the minerals in our soil and it takes generations to manifest itself. Our brothers, who live in other lands, have the same fair skin as yourself, but we share the same ancestry.”

“Oh.” With the pressure off, he was dying to ask. “Why do you guys need a hero? I mean, you have magic and dragons and, well…things like Dax. What do you need a kid like me for?”

Turning to look directly at Wendell, he explained. “The races are weak and falling. Master Mahan, whom we call the Lord of Darkness, desires to rule over all living things. The lust for power is so all-consuming he would rather see entire civilizations tortured and destroyed than allow men to choose for themselves. The Nocturi were the first to experience his insatiable hunger for dominion.” He lowered his eyes. “They fought against Mahan at every turn…and now the Nocturi are no more.”

As the High Elder let out a heavy sigh, Wendell felt the tangible weight of sadness bearing on the man’s shoulders. “Hundreds of years ago, the last Hero only succeeded in locking Mahan away, instead of taking his life. Even banished from this world, the Dark Lord’s influences are growing. Six of the great nations have already fallen.”

“How can he have power when he isn’t even here?” Wendell questioned. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does when distance is irrelevant and you have influence with the unembodied.”

Wendell frowned, “Okay, now you shifted from creepy to outright bizarre. The unem—what?”

“Unembodied, which are spirits which were never born—never received a body of their own and seek to steak them from mortals.”

Wendell shivered. “Okaaaay. Ew.”

“My fears are being confirmed that Mahan has gained considerable influence over certain mortals among the nations and is sowing more discord, more anger, distrust, and we are struggle to save this generation.” The High Elder looked at Wendell and spoke in a firm tone. “There are many hopes built upon the prophecy that the Hero will come and only through him will the Ithäri defeat the evil descending upon us.”

“And you think that guy is me.”

“I have been watching over you since I was a young elder,” he said with a confident smile. Then gently, “Wendell, I know this is hard to accept, but you were hidden on Earth for a reason. You were in danger and so your loving parents made that difficult decision to send you away, where you would be safe. Mahan wanted to find you and destroy you.” The High Elder found himself reaching out in an intense passion to grab Wendell’s forearm, emphasizing his point. “My efforts were hurried so you would have the protection of the gem.  I didn’t want to go through the traditional pomp and display, leaving you potentially open for attack.”

Wendell gulped, “You mean assassination, don’t you.”

The high Elder nodded.

“Wow. Hadn’t really thought of it that way. Guess…I should be thanking you for that one at least.”

“Unfortunately, you are still very vulnerable, because you have decided not to accept this mantle…and the evil is still striving to find and destroy you.”

“Well, here I am,” Wendell challenged being deliberately obtuse. The feigned plea was beginning to grate on his nerves. “Closer than I ever wanted to be, thanks to you. Did this bloodline and Ithäri also agree to put themselves at the mercy of your Council? Give up any independent thought or choice?”

Understanding Wendell’s implication the High Elder spoke firmly. “You made your choice. I may have rushed you. I may have encouraged you. But I did not choose for you.”

Of all the things that could have been thrown in his face, those words stung.

He didn’t choose for you. YOU said the words. Your stupid greed and assumption, Wendell, not willing to wait—to think things through, like mom and dad always taught you to do. THAT’S why you’re here now. Stuck with a King Kong engagement ring jammed between your ribs. You chose. That’s the truth of it.

All his life Wendell wanted to be a somebody. Just this once, can’t I be the guy with everything? He didn’t like admitting, even to himself, that secretly, he really was willing to take the chance. That even though something in his mind still screamed no, he actually wanted to do it anyway. Just in case…

He didn’t have to believe anything the High Elder said because he had already made the decision to go home. And because he was going home, he knew the High Elder had no reason to lie anymore. Did he? Everything was different now. The High Elder’s stories were told with such sincerity, they appealed to Wendell’s inner ‘Defender of the Nerd’. He was reluctant to admit it, but there was no seizing in his gut or impulse to run…just a deep calmness and resolve.

Wendell stood quietly with his eyes down when the High Elder placed a hand on his arm, interrupting his thoughts.

“Come with me, Wendell. I want you to see something.”

Thoughtfully, he followed as they left the quarters and walked through a large, square hall with rows of pillars supporting an intricate web of chiseled arches. With the exception of small mounted sconces, the hall was bare.

Yup, this is where I came in.

He looked down at his fingers. Where there should have been scabs and torn nails from clawing at the floor, his hands were pink and unblemished. He looked around expecting to find blood or some evidence of the struggle with Dax and found nothing.

“Does…Ithäri heal my wounds?” Wendell asked meekly, curious. “I mean, if I get hurt?”

Yes, I will.

The High Elder smiled as they moved between the pillars, “You are her greatest treasure. No one is more important. She will use all her power to keep you alive, healthy and strong at all times.”

Just the mention of this sent a warm sensation through his body. Wow, he mused.

The hall narrowed as they passed underneath an arch and looked to the next.

They were going outside!

Wendell could see the light, hear the birds chirping. Enticing him, the scent of freedom quickened his pulse, rushing Wendell forward.

Air!

He burst through the doorway, inhaling so sharply, he became lightheaded and reached out to the stone archway for support. It was so unexpected, so gratifying, to revel entirely in the fresh air and natural light, Wendell didn’t care to hold back his tears.

I am alive.

The cool mist in the breeze danced on his skin, enlivening each nerve. Closing his eyes, Wendell leaned over, hands on his knees to take in another deep breath, surrendering all conscious thought and will to relishing in the sensation.

Wendell had forgotten about the High Elder until scuffled footsteps paused next to him. He squeezed his eyes tight and exhaled.

“Behold…Sanctuary,” the High Elder said with reverence. “A gift from your family to our people.”

Wendell stood up slowly, opening his eyes. He was standing on an immense stone terrace, awestruck by the statues of men and warriors supporting the dome overhead. Wendell tilted his head as he looked from one to the next. Each one seemed to reach out, sharing his story. Some old, some young, faces stared back at him while dressed in robes, leather, plate mail and even animal skins.

One armor clad warrior in particular, had obviously seen many battles. The worn creases on his face would have made him seem old and sad if it weren’t for the eyes. Rich with hope in their gentle smiling crinkles they pierced Wendell’s heart as they stared right through him.

Shaking his head, he tried to rid himself of the swelling in his chest, of a deep brotherly bond connecting him to this man as if they had known one another once.

I wonder what his story is, Wendell mused.

Walking to the balustrade, the vast city impressed him beyond the terrace, which wrapped itself along the mountainsides and enveloped the whole of the valley in between.

Thousands of white buildings and domed cathedrals stretched out before him. His eyes followed the intricate waterways, saturated with flowers, trees, vines, and grass, between, around and even through the buildings constructed on a grid. At the center was a small, football-shaped park surrounded by a lake of crystal blue water. Five small bridges joined the park to the city and a much larger, white bridge arched over the buildings and waterways extending to the terrace, just to Wendell’s left.

It was beautiful. No war, no destruction. Just light and life…everywhere.

Wendell felt so small. Just a tiny bug in an awesome and gigantic world.

Wendell noticed a rumbling under his feet. Leaning over the railing, he discovered it came from two enormous waterfalls one on either side of the terrace. The waters, spraying out of giant dragon heads, plunged hundreds of feet to a pool below. White foam glistened as it sprayed into the breeze, carrying the cool moisture up to Wendell’s nostrils.

Content in this moment, he closed his eyes again, smiled, and inhaled deeply.

Letting his eyes wander, Wendell considered exploring the glinting green forest just beyond the city, when…

Whoa!

His whole body snapped to attention.

Gradually raising his head higher and higher, he flinched again.

Whoa!!

Taken aback he stared with widened eyes at the incredible sight on either side of the valley and above them. Jagged stone stretched upward in two monstrous glowing waves of earth, curving over the entire valley like vigilant guards to the white city. Through the narrow crevice was a deep blue and white planet nearly engulfing the sliver of exposed sky.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” whispered the High Elder. “This is my favorite view.”

“What is THAT!?” gasped Wendell as he looked around awkwardly for the High Elder while pointing.

The Elder stepped closer. “That, my lord, is the planet of Elämä. It is the battlefield, the prize, and where you were born.”

“And what about the…the…mountains?” Wendell glanced back at the monoliths while making awkward curving motions with his hands. He looked at the planet, then at the mountains again. “We…really are on a moon?”

The High Elder chuckled quietly, pleased with Wendell’s curiosity. “We are, indeed. Shifted and shaped by the Ithäri, those shields of stone, ore and crystal help protect us from the high planetary winds and dangerous sands. An enchantment, through the crystals, regulates our days and nights.”

Wendell couldn’t take his eyes off the planet below…or was it above?

I am a loooong way from home.

His heart raced as his breathing became shallow. He just stared. There wasn’t anything else to do.

How is this even possible?

His brain hurt trying to take in the possibilities he couldn’t explain.

A long way from home.

“Go explore,” the High Elder encouraged with a gentle, fatherly kind of smile. “You will be safe.”

Wendell had to yank his thoughts and eyes back to the city, back to the High Elder. “What?”

“Take some time and explore our magnificent city,” he grinned.

For the first time, Wendell noticed small figures moving about the white city. There were people…everywhere. Thousands of them busily about daily life.

But I’m…pink.

Wendell watched them walking the streets, shouting and waving to one another, or working among the plants. Several were working upon a nearby roof. He was not altogether confident about being left alone. “What about that meeting with the Council?”

“Meet me at the Prime Gate at even. That will give you some time to ponder and explore your temporary home. You have the whole day to enjoy yourself. Find yourself something to eat.” Then noticing Wendell’s raised eyebrows and confusion he pointed. “That structure in the middle of the park. The three big fingers, curled upward? That is the Prime Gate. Meet me there…at dark. All the main roads lead back here, so you can’t get lost.” He raised an eyebrow at Wendell to make sure he understood. Then he tucked his arms into his robe, turned and walked away.

For several minutes, Wendell stood still, staring hard at the doorway where the High Elder had vanished.

I’m all alone.

He stood there not knowing what he dared do.

He just…left me? I don’t even KNOW anybody here!

Wendell walked to the bridge.

Hmmm…

Shuffling slowly to the side he looked over the edge. It was a long way down and a long way across.

Maybe I should just hang out here, take in all the sights. Besides, people are busy with their daily…stuff. Don’t want to interrupt them, right?

His stomach growled loudly in protest.

Right. I am hungry. Might as well start walking, he thought, and took his first step out into the direct sunlight.

Sunlight?

That stimulated an interesting question.

Where is the light and warmth coming from? Wendell looked all around him and did not see a sun. His eyes went to the glowing…mountains?

Oh, yeah. He said something about enchanted crystals regulating stuff. Maybe that includes the heat?

Glancing down over the movements of the city he wondered why there wasn’t anyone else on this bridge.

Is this thing even safe?

Maybe there was an advantage, that he wasn’t blue like everyone else? Well that’s stupid. Don’t start acting racist, idiot. You’re a guest here. He paused. Sort of.

With each step, Wendell’s mind flooded with possibilities he might have to deal with.

What if they don’t speak my language?

Oh, crap—what if I don’t speak THEIRS?

Oh, wait. Duh.

What if they don’t like me?

What if the last white guy ticked them off?

Wait. I’m not actually a white guy anymore…I’m pink!

Are there white guys?

What other colors are there?

Is there a customary greeting I should be aware of?

Can I introduce myself, or does someone else have to do that for me?

Maybe the High Elder is setting me up for a serious fall so he can save me!

Oh, what a dirtbag! I knew I couldn’t trust him…

The butterflies in his stomach fluttered for a split second before he mentally caged them. Working his way over the giant arch in the bridge, Wendell made it to the end and stepped off onto lush, green grass.

Mom always said you were likable and so did Evan. So that’s what we’re going with. Charm. Cuteness. Vulnerable. If that doesn’t work, we’ll claim ignorance and blame the High Elder.

He nodded to himself. It was good plan.

The park’s rim was thickly wooded. The bridge’s base met with a wide well-used path which Wendell followed directly to the Prime Gate.

Though he’d expected to see something crazy and new, the trees looked like aspens and willows and if he wasn’t mistaken, a few cherry trees.

Huh. Just like home.

The Prime Gate, however, was something new altogether. The giant triangular structure was much larger than Wendell thought it would be. Standing at what he guessed to be a good thirty feet tall, the structure loomed over him, sitting smack dab in the center of the park, just like the High Elder said. From each of the three sides, stone ramps led to the center where one large eye was carved into the platform. Three black claws jutted out from each corner…a white eye scratched into each base,. The claws stretched up from the corners, tapering off to points as they hooked over the platform.

Peering closely at the nearest claw Wendell saw there were other carvings, smaller, almost translucent symbols on the claws, but they looked messy, randomly placed, almost accidental.

Strange sort of statue to put out here.

It looked…out of place, sorely standing out against the beautiful white structures of the city. He tried to imagine what its purpose could be among the grass and birds and butterflies.

Circling the base he stopped short. A few people were leaning casually against it, watching him. They looked young, late teens, maybe early twenties, all dressed in tan and white, which made the blue of their skin almost glow.

He opened his mouth to say hi, forgetting his feet were still in motion and he stumbled.

A couple of them chuckled, but most just started on.

Hot faced, Wendell tucked his head between his shoulders, offering half a smile and walked in the opposite direction.

Unghhhhh. That was horrible, Wendell! Why didn’t you say hello? Stupid, Stupid. STUPID.

A shout and then loud laughing in the distance caught Wendell’s attention.

Right. Mistakes happen. Remember, you’re a nice guy. People will like you. Have confidence. This’ll work. Moving on.

Refocusing, he could hear the bustle of people. Children laughed. Flutes and small drums played a merry tune, and frolicking on the breeze was the potent aroma of grilled meats, fresh baked breads and sweet stuff.

The scents turned his stomach into a growling beast.

Alright, alright! We’re going!!

It sounded like a celebration.

Plan. I need a plan.

Where there was a celebration, there was food. Wendell smiled.

He followed the path to the far side of the park, hesitating at the edge of a small bridge. He could see them now. A street full of busy blue people.

Just breathe, Wendell. In, out. In, out. You are going to be okay.

It was, in fact, not a celebration at all, but what looked a lot like a farmers market back home. Shops lined both sides of a deep cobblestone street. Facing the established shops, smaller cart vendors lined themselves along the center island which showcased an abundance of blooming flowers and small benches to sit on.

Hundreds of people were busy in conversation, wandering about, looking at wares and gathering food in their baskets. Too busy, Wendell soon realized, to notice him.

He felt comforted. With the exception of the patron’s skin color, the market looked a lot like something he might find on Earth, in any small town or inner city—with breads, meats, and the abundance of vegetables.

At least they looked like vegetables, anyway.

Mouth now watering and stomach aching, Wendell walked timidly to the center of the street.

To his utter surprise, people smiled politely at him without pausing. As he passed couples or mothers walking with their kids, they nodded, some waved and a few small children pointing with open mouths for which the parents would apologize. Yet every single person smiled and said, ‘Good Morning’, as he passed them.

Wendell was surprised at their lack of interest in an obvious stranger wandering in their midst.

Is this normal? Ahhh, maybe they get visitors like me and I’m not an oddity! Huh. Well the High Elder did say there were other Iskari who had pink skin too, so…

Barging into Wendell’s thoughts, a stout man at the corner shop hollered, “Would you like to try the sugar buns?” He stepped out of the doorway, wiping his fat hands on an apron, beaming directly at Wendell.

At first glance, he wasn’t sure the shop owner was talking to him. Wendell looked behind, then pointed at himself, “Are you talking to m-me?”

The man grinned wide, “Of course I’m talking to you! “ Waving a hand to motion Wendell closer, he said with pride, “Come, come, see what we’ve created today! We received an extra shipment of cream this morning, so I made good use of it all. Be the first to enjoy the tasty treats we have to offer!”

Wendell hovered over the cart, smelling the bread and cinnamon, staring as he reached for a back pocket that wasn’t there. Oh…crap! The High Elder didn’t give me anything to pay for food with. His stomach whimpered with another growl. It’s gonna be a looooong day.

“No, thank you,” he said sheepishly, his stomach protesting with a loud moan, “Uh…I…don’t have any money.”

The man’s jovial belly jiggled as he laughed, “Ah, you’re new here!” He reached out to Wendell’s arm and pulled him close. “We don’t deal in coin, boy. No, no, no. The blessing of working together is being able to do what you love for those you love. So, come. Try one of my beauties!!”

In one swift motion the fat fingers snatched up a moist, sugar coated bite-sized roll from the cart and pushed it into Wendell’s mouth before he could object.

It was tender, the buttery caramel covered bread melting in his mouth

“Mm…Mmmmm…Mmmmmmmm!!”

It was good. And not just because he was famished. Embarrassed, Wendell lowered his eyes and quickly wiped at his mouth.

The old man laughed openly. “I’ll take THAT as a true testimony of success!” he beamed. “More?”

With an eager nod and a muffled thank you, Wendell sampled everything in the display. When he had had his fill, the kind baker wrapped a small dark loaf of sour bread in a white cloth and grinned wide.

“Now be off with you. There’s far more than my goods you should sample at market!” Then, having a second thought he patted Wendell on the back and offered his advice. “When you have need, my young friend, you ask when among the Iskari people. Understand?”

Wendell nodded, mouth still full and chewing, so he raised his hand in grateful thanks as he walked away.

Wow, what a nice man!

One kind interaction was all it took to break the cycle of fear. Feeling more comfortable, Wendell wandered from shop to shop and cart to cart, exploring and asking questions as he nibbled on his dark loaf. It turned out it wasn’t so odd for a complete stranger to walk among them after all. Wendell learned that the Iskari people traded with other communities from the world below at certain times of the year.

No one was bothered by his pale skin and before long Wendell didn’t feel alone…or self-conscious.

The market fascinated him. Wendell tasted samples of anything offered to him. Each vendor had a similar attitude and countenance as the baker, always eager to share and please others. He enjoyed purple fruit that looked like melon and tasted like tart oranges as well as bread stuffed with something that tasted like spiced pork and potatoes. He nibbled on what looked like grapes, but tasted more like blueberries and long, hard fruits which looked like cucumbers, but tasted exactly like an apple.

Some of the experiences made him laugh and his genuine shocks of delight brought smiles to everyone around Wendell.

It’s like everything I’ve ever experienced with food has been put in a bag and jumbled up. He grinned as he bit into something that looked like a cherry tomato…which turned out to taste exactly like a cherry tomato. His eyes grew wide and he smiled. I have absolutely no idea what to expect! He watched as large baskets were filled with vegetables, fruits, meats, breads and spices, but never an exchange of coin.

These people…take care of each other. No money exchanges, just service. Each and every one of them doing what they love to do and giving the best of what they have for the benefit of others. It’s amazing.

Wendell was used to greed and selfishness, where people sought to get gain and make as much money as possible. Holidays were means of filling the pockets of big businesses and corporations were concerned with ‘bottom lines’, not people. Yet here he was, in a clean, beautiful and obviously wealthy city…and there was no such thing as coin. The Iskari focused on caring for the needs of others, knowing full well that their own needs would, in turn, be cared for as well.

What could the communities of Earth learn from such a shift in focus and perspective?

Wendell was especially fascinated with the dried and seasoned meats. Toman? Shelf Cat? He cringed. They eat cats? Eww. Finding blue meat a bit more adventurous than his nerve, Wendell tried to politely withdraw himself from the eager merchant, claiming that he was overly full as he backed away.

“Watch it!” a feminine voice hollered with a climbing trill.

Too late.

As Wendell turned from the merchant he collided head-on with a large basket filled with produce.

Knocked from the young girl’s hands, it flipped to the ground, sending the contents rolling across the marketplace.

“Oh no! Sorry. Sorry!” she cried to those skipping and hopping to avoid trampling the small silver fruits. She quickly sank to the ground.

Wendell knelt down beside her, turning the basket aright. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. I should have looked where I was going!” He set about grabbing the escaping produce before it could roll out of reach.

The young girl sighed in frustration. “No, my mother always told me not to carry the baskets so full.” Reaching for an escaping piece she stopped short when she noticed Wendell’s hands getting to it first.

“Goodness! What’s wrong with your skin!?” she exclaimed.

Looking up, her eyes widened and she pulled back in surprise. Smoothing her wavy, black hair out of her face and back into the loose ribbon of her ponytail, she quickly composed herself.

Amused, Wendell watched as she gently refashioned her surprise into an enveloping broad smile flattered by full glossy lips and dimple in her left cheek. Her bright azure eyes crinkled at the corners, turning up slightly like they were smiling at him, too.

“Well, hello!” she said, freely studying him. Her smile grew as she waited for him to respond.

W…w…wow. She’s….wowww.

Nervously, he stammered, “Really, I…I’m sorry about this. C…can I carry it for you?” Wendell found himself smiling a big toothy grin right back as he lifted the basket from her arms. “Where’s your shop?”

“Right behind you, boy,” came a burly, protective voice. Smiling, the tall man rolled his eyes at the transfixed girl. Taking the basket from Wendell, he gently placed the silver fruit into the display cart. “Thank you, Kyliene. Give my fondest regards to your grandmother.”

“You’re welcome, Alor,” she sang cheerfully, without taking her gaze from Wendell. “Nana said she hopes the salve is working for you.”

Alor cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “Uh, …yes.” He set the empty basket down between Wendell and Kyliene and turned back to his shop. “Good day, dear.”

Wendell watched the exchange between the two. He was enchanted with the melodic way she put words together. It was like listening to a wind chime being tickled by a spring breeze. Every time he looked to her, she was still watching him.

Wow. He wasn’t used to attention from girls. Why won’t she stop staring? Wendell smiled back, his face flushing. Do I have food on my face? He got up, turning a bit to the side so that he could swipe a hand across his mouth. Probably have fruit stains on my lips!

Kyliene watched him, still smiling without a word, which…didn’t bother Wendell as much as he thought it would.

She’s adorable! The soft bouncing black curls reminded him of a playful puppy and he had to resist the urge to scoop her up and squeeze her. Wow. He gulped out loud. Wendell guessed she was close to his age and for some reason, it didn’t matter one bit that she was blue.

His smile broadened to match her own. Oh I am SO glad I’m stuck here for a month!

Besides the fact that she was talking to him and not, you know, running away…there was something about her.

Holding out his hand, “Kyliene?”

Then, like a delayed firecracker, “You know my name?” she piqued. “Wow.”

He smiled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “No, the guy who took the fruit said…”

“Fruit!” she squeaked, grabbing his hand and popping to her feet. “Nana! I need to get back to Nana.” She looked confused turning in circles. “Yes. She can’t see, you know, and I left her in the orchard while I delivered these.” She suddenly paused, “…And you are?” She leaned in closer to Wendell, tilting her head to the side, waiting for his answer, again with that intoxicating smile.

For some apparent reason, Wendell’s knees suddenly wobbled and he was forced to reach out to the cart beside him to steady himself. He quickly changed his expression on his face, hoping to look nonchalant.

“Um…Wendell?” he gulped.

Kyliene giggled. “Are you sure?” she asked sweetly, batting her long eyelashes.

“Uh…,” with an awkward, dopey laugh, “yup, I am…I am Wendell.” His face flushed. Where’s Evan when I need him? What do I do now??

“Okay,” she chimed. “Do you like silveens, Wendell?” she asked picking up the empty basket and putting the handle over her arm.

Wendell cleared his throat. “Uh, silveens? I, uh…”

“Silver fruit, small, beautiful, super sweet…”

Just like you? Before he could answer, Kyliene slipped her arm through his, taking his breath away and pulling him down the road.

“I really could use a strong, handsome man to help me lift this heavy basket so I don’t ruin the fruit we’ve worked so long to grow!”

Wendell only knew one thing right now—he wanted to stay with this girl. “Okay…” He felt jittery, the butterflies zipping around between his stomach and heart. Oh yeah, they’re talkin’ to me now. It was thrilling!

As they walked down the street, Wendell listened attentively to the girl on his arm, charmed by the musical way she spoke. He tried not to stare, he didn’t want to scare her, but he loved the way her curls kept falling across her eyes. And if he leaned in toward her, ever so slightly, he was rewarded with the warm sweet scent of her hair on the breeze.

STOP IT, Wendell! You’re smelling her! You don’t SMELL girls—what’s WRONG with you!?! That’s weird. DON’T BE WEIRD!! You don’t want to blow this…so FOCUS. He smiled to himself, Yeah? Then why do girls work so hard to be so pretty and smell so good, if not to be appreciated? Then, SHUT UP! FOCUS!!

They were going to the orchards just outside the city. Kyliene pointed out to furrows branching out from intricate waterways built with stone, explaining how the entire city and orchards were watered by the propulsion from the waterfalls. Wendell found the whole system used fascinating, as no one here used electricity. There were no light bulbs, TV’s, cars or generators…only the use of mundane materials combined with nature.

All along the side of the streets were small grooves, barely six inches deep, routing fresh water from various pools, to the orchards and fields. Kyliene explained that the water was controlled by the workers, who opened numbered gates to fill a field well. It was a huge stone container used to hold water, to be distributed to the trees by smaller grooves cut into laid stone pathways.

Once the field well was full, the gate was closed and the water immediately channeled to the next field.

It was a fascinating invention.

Wendell learned that Nana, Kyliene’s grandmother, was a third generation ‘head steward’ of the orchards. Apparently, being a steward was a great honor and the station was passed on first, to family—if they desired the job. Again, this was about doing what one loved more than anything else. When asked, Kyliene simply stated, “You’ll always be better at and more loyal to something you love, won’t you?” Nana had been raising Kyliene to take her place.

The woman had been raising Kyliene and her brother, Caleb, since their parents died.

Twice Wendell stopped, asking questions about the building of the city. He was intrigued by the seemingly simple structure, how they supported and enhanced the beauty of the nature around them. Everything in harmony.

Wendell wasn’t surprised to find that each building had a unique history of its own. One of the great halls was constructed in trade between Sir Barrow, a famous Iskäri painter, and Galep Bombul, head of the Dwarf Masons. Galep had commissioned Sir Barrow to paint his not-so-lovely, shrewish wife Hindel in a desirable, captivating light. When she beheld the finished painting, she was overwhelmed with adoring gratitude to her husband. The wealthy mason in turn, insisted on building a mansion as a monument to Barrow’s genius.

Wendell asked about the elaborate benches equally spaced throughout the city. One wouldn’t usually ask about benches, but these were made of white stone, virtually glowing along the pathway. Kyliene grinned and told him about Merchant Tip.

Generations ago an off-world merchant, who was only known as ‘Tip’, was so fat he could hardly walk—yet insisted on delivering his goods to his fellow citizens personally. Unable to support his own weight for long, he had benches constructed along his delivery routes. The entire city eventually adopted the ‘tip’ measurement as the proper distance between benches.

As they meandered out of the city, they passed tiered platforms of growing crops.

Wendell skidded to a halt, completely fascinated by what looked at first to be a lot like a cement parking garage. Huge slabs of stone, supported by pillars and strategically placed arches, which held lush gardens and grain crops. Large rotating wheels lifted buckets of water up to the higher levels. From there the water trickled along grooves cut in the stone, dripping out into the soil.

As excess water drained from the soil, the mineral enriched moisture dripped through tiny holes in the stone slabs, running along etched grooves to the side walls, where it was collected and redistributed to the next level of growth. This process repeated through the whole of the structure, providing moisture and concentrated nourishment to the plants without wasting any water.

Seeing Wendell’s excitement, Kyliene shared the story of Caleb, a young man whom her brother was named after.

Pondering the flow of the great waterfalls and watering system of the orchards, Caleb sought to improve the farming of his community. By creating reinforced tiered fields, the young Iskäri tripled the crop growth by capturing the mineral runoff from one field to another, feeding the crops below through the unique irrigation drip system. As Wendell listened, he marveled at the clever nature of the Iskäri.

Stopping abruptly, Kyliene tugged on Wendell’s arm. She glanced back in the direction of the Keep and then looked up at Wendell with a big grin. “Can you keep a secret?” she said in a low tone.

After glancing conspiratorially from side to side, Wendell nodded.

She leaned in close as she whispered, “Caleb, my little brother, he’s a page to the High Elder.” She paused to look around before continuing. “Well, he’s been sent on a secret errand outside the valley! I think that the Gnolaum…is coming.” She grabbed his shirt sleeve tightly in both fists. “The GNOLAUM. Isn’t that exciting!?” Kyliene bounced on the balls of her feet. “We’ve waited hundreds of years for the Hero of the Gem to return!”

No-lum? What’s…and his heart sunk. She’s talking about…me! What? Does everyone know about this stuff around here? Oh crap. Wendell tried to look appropriately excited by raising his eyebrows over widened eyes and smiling really big, then nodded his head again. He secretly wished he could share that same excitement as Kyliene lapsed into an enthralled silence.

The cobblestone street narrowed as they reached the end of the city, where buildings stopped and rows of trees began. A twinkling orchard lay before them, and a succulent, sweet, fragrance beckoned like an intimate friend to come closer.

Kyliene squeezed Wendell’s arm again, bringing a fresh flutter of butterflies to his stomach and pulled him into the orchard. “Come on!” she beamed.

Gnarly, white trunks bore branches heavy with clusters of small silver fruit and radiant green leaves. Wendell watched and listened to the chatter and laughing of young people who were busy working throughout the orchard, dragging wood boxes, carts and baskets from tree to tree.

“Nana, I’m back!” Kyliene called out in her singing way. The only grown-up he could see was a little white-haired woman with a cane, sitting on a bench along the main path. Kyliene smiled brightly as they made their way to the bench.

Kyliene knelt beside her, taking an old wrinkled hand and placing it against her cheek. The Grandmother wiggled her gnarled thumb against the soft flesh and smiled. “I was starting to worry. You took longer than usual, Kyliene and that’s saying a great deal!”

Looking up at Wendell through those long lashes, she leaned closer to her grandmother’s ear and whispered, “I was distracted.” Kyliene reached out for Wendell’s hand. When he hesitated, she reached out, grabbed him and pulled him near with a nod of her head, placing his hand within her grandmother’s. “This is Wendell, Nana. He’s offered to help us today.”

Nana laughed knowingly “Did you now?” and patted Wendell’s hand gingerly. Without waiting for a response she added, “Then be about the field, the day’s waning.”

“Yes, Nana,” Kyliene smirked. Taking Wendell’s hand from Nana’s, she squeezed it tight, motioning him to follow.

“What…am I going to be doing?” Wendell asked, puzzled.

Kyliene slid closer to him, wrapped both arms around one of his and smiled up at him. “You’re going to spend the rest of the day with me. That is, if you don’t mind.” Her head suddenly popped upright. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t even ask you if you had plans…or if you were waiting for someone else….,” she frowned, “or if that someone else was a girl.” Letting go of his arm, “Ungh! Kyliene, you idiot! You’ve gotten in the way of another girl…”

Wendell opened his mouth in a gasp, “No—wait…”

“Here I am, jumping in where I don’t belong and she’s probably back there, in the market, wondering where you’ve gone!” Shifting in front of Wendell, she pleaded, “Forgive me, please! You’ve been SO kind and wonderful—walking with me, listening to my rants and jabbering, being so polite while your girlfriend is left, stranded on her own…”

“But I don’t have a…”

Tears welled up in her eyes, which seemed to amplify how adorable she really was, “I should have been more thoughtful.” Gazing into his eyes, “I should have asked before assuming you were free to spend time with a stranger like me. I…”

“Kyliene!” Wendell jumped in, his smile wide with glee. “I’m not waiting for anyone.”

She paused, stunned.

She blinked once.

“But…your girlfriend, back at the market…”

He chuckled, “doesn’t exist.”

Kyliene frowned, “Wendell, that’s not a very nice thing to say about her.”

“No, no! She doesn’t exist, because I wasn’t waiting for anyone…I was alone when we met. I’ve been wandering through the market all by myself.”

Kyliene’s eyes popped open wide, “Oh!” She sniffed and wiped her forming tears away. “So, I wasn’t being rude?”

Grinning still, “Nope.”

“Annnnd, would you like to spend the day helping me in the orchards?” she asked sheepishly.

He nodded. “I really would.”

Kyliene leaned in a bit closer and whispered, “Is there a girl waiting OUTside the market, somewhere…anywhere…for you?”

Laughing, “Nope.”

She gave a big, open sigh and wrapped her arms around his once more, “Ohhhh good.”

Wendell beamed. Youuuuu said it! *Sigh*…this has turned out to be the best day ever.

Kyliene introduced him to some of the other youth workers who eagerly welcomed his help without a single comment about skin color. The girls waved and smiled politely, while the boys grunted with nods, grateful for more help. A few rolled their eyes, noticing Kyliene’s smitten countenance.

While she gathered a few baskets to place under a tall tree, Wendell stared at the other boys across the path rapidly filling crates. He worried.

Okay, this looks simple enough, but the truth was, Wendell had always been awkward when it came to coordination. He didn’t know of any other teen who could trip themselves using a rake or considered games like volleyball or badminton as an elaborate ritual of self humiliation. The thought of trying to help now, in front of all the other teens…and most especially in front of Kyliene, seems daunting.

He signed inwardly. But I already said I would. Can’t back out now…

Reaching up to a low hanging branch and pulled at one of the small, round silver fruits.

It wouldn’t come free.

Come on, Wendell. She’s watching you!

He yanked harder, shaking so hard the leaves started to off the branch, but nothing else. You have GOT to be kidding me! Here I am trying to be Mr. Cool and I get the mutant fruit tree to make me look like a fool?

Kyliene stood there, watching patiently, one eyebrow raised.

Wendell scratched his head and glanced between the pretty girl and the annoyingly tough fruit. “I’ve never, uh…” Swallowing his pride, he decided to try the humble approach. “I’ve never done this before. How do you get them off the tree?”

Kyliene smiled slyly. “With magic.”

Wendell perked up with curiosity. “Magic? Seriously?”

She nodded soberly. “Absolutely. It’s a magic every steward before me has used and everyone who labors with us must master.” She drew closer, lowering her voice to a near whisper, “Are you willing to abide by what you’ll be taught?”

“I am,” he soberly replied, clearing his throat.

“And do you promise to show other stewards of the grove in the proper use of this magic, should you be called upon?” she added.

“Yes. Absolutely,” Wendell grinned. Wow! I’m going to learn magic!! Heck, yeah!

“Then I shall teach you the ancient lore of silveen harvesting.” Biting her bottom lip, Kyliene held up a small blade with a wooden handle. “This is called a knife. If you draw it across the stem of the fruit, it magically drops into your hand.”

She held it out to him, handle first.

Wendell rolled his eyes and sighed, “So THAT’S how they do it around here, huh?”

Kyliene winked up at him and they both laughed.

Wendell was grateful for the gentle teasing that dispelled his discomfort.

As the day grew, he found the sweet scent of the ripened silveen like adrenaline in his veins. He worked hard and was surprised at how easy his hands seemed to work for the first time in his life. The blade moved swiftly and with precision, from fruit to fruit, without worry or hinderance. In fact, Wendell discovered he enjoyed harvesting. The simple work among good company and good conversation.

At noon, the crew stopped and had lunch together, seated in a wide circle under the shade of the silveen trees. Nana provided sandwiches and chilled water, while desert was made of what was picked from the grove.

The taste of the silveen was something between a grape and a very juicy pomegranate. The skin was like a hard membrane, yet once bitten through, gave way easily to further bites. Even the black seeds at the center tasted good to Wendell, like salted pecans.

“So, Wendell,” started Tyra, a young girl with tight frizzy hair and big, piercing blue eyes, “did you come to visit with the merchants?”

The other kids looked at him expectantly.

Uhhh. What do I say? Am I supposed to keep this…why I’m here….a secret? The High Elder hadn’t said anything about keeping secrets. In fact, he’d done the exact opposite—wanting Wendell to explore and mix with the people. The thought suddenly occurred to him that perhaps that was the plan: get him to mix with the people in the hopes of convincing him to stay.

Wendell smiled and then gave a short nod, “Something like that.” Better not get myself trapped into a corner here. Don’t want to lie to anyone…but I sure don’t want people thinking that I’m staying here!

He looked over at Kyliene…and found her staring at him again.

She fluttered her eyelashes.

Sighhhhh. Then again…

Wendell caught on quickly, uncharacteristically adept to the steady rhythm of moving from tree to tree. Before long, he was quickly filling box after box, sliding them to the path to be picked up by the next crew.

“Looks like we have a cutter among us!” cried one of the younger boys.

“We’ll see about that!” replied another, picking up his pace.

“Now don’t go cutting yourself, Bram,” Kyliene chimed, “just because you want to be the fastest.”

“But I AM the fastest,” Bram chided back, picking up speed, as all the kids laughed.

It became a contest. The younger boys egged on Wendell the newcomer, racing from tree to tree on the other side of the path. The packers paused and started chanting Wendell’s name as Bram kept pace, then lurched ahead, only to be outmatched once more.

All the while Kyliene, sitting in the middle of the lane of trees, described the events to her Nana, as the old woman laughed.

Pushing himself faster and faster, Wendell decided not to use the ladders provided and simply jump from tree to tree. Placing the knife in his mouth, Wendell grabbed a limb and prepared to lunge.

“Wendell, I wouldn’t…,” Kyliene started to say, but it was too late. Wendell was suddenly airborne…

…and then not.

Underestimating the jump, he caught hold of the next tree with a single hand. The momentum of his body pulled down, the knife flipping from Wendell’s lips with an, “Oh no,” and the anchor to the tree flung him onto his backside, across the bench below.

Landing squarely against his forearm, Wendell cried out as bones snapped.

“WENDELL!” Kyliene cried aloud and the cheering stopped. Dashing to his side, she grabbed hold of Wendell arm to help him up.

“OW! Ow, ow, ow!” he yelped, “Arms hurt. Landed on it wrong, blast it.”

“Bring him here, child,” Nana called out. “Let’s have a look.”

Wendell sat still, bitting his lip as the blind woman gently inspected the bones with experienced fingers.

“You, my dear boy, are a reckless harvester!” she scolded him openly.

Wendell’s head drooped forward, feeling the weight of his stupidity in trying to impress.

Nana leaned forward with a smirk on her face and added, “You should practice a bit more before trying to fly like a squirrel! HAHA!”

Wendell chuckled…then flinched.

“Feels like you have a cracked bone. Not quite broken, but if jarred enough, you’ll certainly finish the job. It needs to be protected. Kyliene, fetch me some pruned branches for a splint.”

The young Iskari did as she was told and before long, Wendell’s forearm was securely wrapped with a couple of Nana’s handkerchiefs.

“That should do it, for now.”

“Thank you,” Wendell replied. Then looking over the the concerned youth standing about, he grinned. “Looks like Bram is DEFINITELY the fastest!”

The older boys whooped and hollered, bouncing the exhausted worker on their collective shoulders. Wendell cheered with them, chanting Bram’s name.

When Kyliene shot Wendell a questioning look, he simply winked.

Sweat rolling down his brow, Wendell realized he wanted to do this every day. I’m…actually good at this! Come to work, be with good friends, have a simple meal, work hard to accomplish something everyone around you appreciates? What could be better?

It sounded like heaven to Wendell.

But I don’t belong here, nagged the thought. Yet no one had questioned him. Not a single person he’d met all day had shunned him from their presence or treated him with anything less than utter kindness and generosity.

Once the fruit was gathered, half the youth went off with their carts to deliver the harvest throughout the city, while the other half cleaned the tools and packed them away.

They take care of each other here. I…could be happy here. Safe…here. Something tugged at his heart, which he didn’t altogether fight. I’m supposed to be with these people…to protect them. That was the point. He was being asked to give up his own life, to serve these people. People he didn’t know. To fight on their behalf.

He wasn’t even sure it was his fight. Wendell was still having a hard time believing he was actually the hero the High Elder kept talking about.

Pshaw! Yeah, not like I can see me wearing chain mail armor, waving a sword around or standing on a field of battle. Swinging. Hacking. Stabbing.

A wave of nausea hit his stomach.

Oh yeah…they got the wrong guy.

But what if he was wrong? What if he was, in fact, the hero the people had been waiting for? Wouldn’t he be turning his back on his responsibilities?

To make matters even more confusing, in less than an hour, the pain in his arm had completely vanished. Moments after Nana had braced the wound, his entire arm had flooded with a deep, comforting warmth, washing the pain away.

Even now, Wendell could not only wiggle his fingers, but make a tight fist and even bend his wrist without the least amount of pain!

Is this what it is to be the hero? That the Ithari will heal me, even when I do something…stupid?

Yes.

“Where are you staying, Wendell?” asked Kyliene, breaking his mode of thought. She stacked another empty box into the supply cart.

“Uh…I’m supposed to meet the High Elder at the Prime Gate at even.” Why did I say that? He felt goofy using the High Elder’s words. Did she notice?

“Oh. Good,” she replied, her eyes smiling back at him, “Then you have time to walk me and Nana home.” She paused, “That is…if you don’t mind?”

A strange, almost annoying goober laugh ran up Wendell throat and escaped before he could stop it.

What was THAT?

He slapped a hand over his mouth with a ‘WHAP!’…eyes wide with embarrassment, his face turned beet red.

Kyliene giggled and grabbed his hand, slipping her fingers between his. She tugged softly. “Come on.”

With Kyliene on one arm and Nana on the other, the three strolled back towards the market. It was near the end of the day and the shops were closing down. Display carts had been removed and only a few merchants remained outside, most were sweeping the cobblestone street.

Suggestively, Kyliene asked with an impish grin, “So, you’re new around here and you’re meeting the High Elder?”

Wendell bit his bottom lip, not sure what to say.

“Mind your own business, young lady,” Nana interrupted. “Besides, its my turn.” She grinned up at him and Wendell could see where Kyliene got here smiling eyes and spunk from. Pleased by the attention, he exaggeratedly turned his complete focus to Nana. The grandmother, this time, did most of the talking.

“We have a wonderful history, the Iskari people. We are still grateful for the gift of Erimuri.” There was an unmistakable reverence in her tone.

“Erimuri?”

“The streets you now walk upon, Wendell, though more commonly called Sanctuary by other races. There has not been a time where our influence was not felt by the world below, through continent or community, by example or through precept. I think…it’s not so much what we do, Wendell, but who we are that endures…that in the end, makes the difference.”

Nana continued, but Wendell’s mind was soon pulled from the old woman’s voice as he gazed ahead.

The shape of the valley and the gentle slope of the city streets allowed him to see the small black claws of the Prime Gate poking up above the tree line. In the distance, the large white rainbow of a bridge that lead back to the Keep arched high above the park. Yet the biggest distraction of all stood boldly above the ground…the shimmering castle of white stone floating upon the mist of the waterfalls, reflecting the dimming light of the crystals overhead.

The large castle which earlier looked to be born out of the very stone it rested upon, now hovered gracefully without foundation.

“Stunning, isn’t it?” whispered Kyliene.

“Erimuri in the ancient tongue means desert flower,” chimed Nana, feeling Wendell’s pace slow. “It became a great haven for our people. There are fifteen valleys, each one named for the fifteen cycles which make up our year. This valley is called Tamku. Each of the elders preside over a valley as their stewardship. The High Elder is the Head Steward of all Sanctuary, and steward of Tamku.” Nodding toward the castle, “The Keep of Tamku was always my favorite.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he whispered.

They waited patiently until Wendell was ready to move on and then Kyliene guided them down a side road.

Their home was beautifully situated, facing the lake and trees around the park for a great view, as well as conveniently located next to the market, practically on Wendell’s way. The home stood out from the others with its bold red door adorned with violet-blue and white Bellflowers, the window beds bursting with rosy-pink Geraniums.

Wendell smiled at this boisterous display of Kyliene’s cheery disposition. As she took the full basket into the house Wendell helped Nana up the small steps.

The old woman took his hand, tenderly kissed it at the door and held it tight.

“You are a good boy,” she said gently. “I haven’t heard my granddaughter laugh this much since her parents passed. For that, my dear, you have my deepest gratitude.”

For just a moment Wendell was confused to see a blue hand upon a white hand. He had become so comfortable that he’d forgotten the Iskari were blue and he was not. It seemed strange to him that in a place where he was so obviously the outsider, he felt more ‘normal’ in a day here than he had his whole life at home.

Wendell didn’t know what to say, so he simply leaned down and gave the old woman a gentle hug.

“Awww,” Kyliene cooed in her trilling way.

The old woman waved her hand over her head in submission, “I’m leaving, I’m leaving. Goodnight, Wendell, my dear boy! You come see us again soon, yes? Come back to return my handkerchiefs.” Then she hobbled past her granddaughter and into the house.

Wendell’s heart began to pound as Kyliene leaned in the doorway with that smile. For a moment the two just watched each other shyly, stringing out the moments.

Kyliene brushed the black hair from her face, tucking it over her ear. Even the small flecks of dirt from the days labors looked lovely on her.

“I have to go,” he said, hating to hear that phrase come from his own lips. “I’m supposed to meet the High Elder by sundown.” He frowned, “That’s…even, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Her soft hand slid into his, intwining their fingers. She stared at the woven colors of flesh for the longest moment, a smile crawling across her face. “Then I better make sure you don’t get lost.”

They didn’t walk so much as stroll along, saying very little.

Wendell had never felt this way before.

Heck, he didn’t even know he could feel the way he did…which was amazing, loved and very eager to walk Kyliene back to her house, just so he could spend more time with her.

She’s perfect.

In every way he could think of, Kyliene was a perfect person. For the first time in his life, Wendell felt…whole. Yes, she was lovely and no, the blue skin didn’t matter at all. In fact, the color made her amazing green eyes and black hair stand out even more. There was something about her very nature. Her words, the way she moved, her kindness, intelligence, her sense of humor…all of it rolled into one package.

She’s perfect. He couldn’t help but grin. I’m going to like staying here for the next month.

But then what? The thought hit him like a fist to the gut. Wendell hadn’t thought that far.

“Wendell?” she whispered, “What’s wrong?”

Flustered, he forced a sudden smile to his face. “Oh nothing. Everything’s wonderful.” He turned slightly away, as if glancing off in the distance.

I’ve been so caught up in the here and now, I never considered what it’s going to feel like to leave once the month is over.

To say that he would miss Kyliene was…inadequate.

Oh come on…you just met her today! You can’t possibly… but all it took was a single glance and he knew.

Maybe staying here is the right decision after all.

The crystals were dimming but not so much so that Wendell couldn’t see the annoyingly large smile on the High Elder’s face as they approached the ramp. Embarrassed, Wendell slowly let go of Kyliene’s hand.

The High Elder stepped forward, put an arm around her and squeezed, leaning his cheek tenderly against her forehead. “Hello, Kyliene. I’m glad to see young Wendell has made friends with one of our more responsible youth. And how is Moira this evening?”

“Nana is very well. It was a fruitful day,” she smirked, her eyes drifting back to Wendell.

The Elder chuckled at the pun and placed a hand on Wendell’s shoulder. “Please let her know that Caleb should be home within the hour. If you’ll excuse us, my dear, Wendell and I have an appointment to keep.”

“Of course. Goodbye, Wendell.” Her smile was bright, but the expression was questioning. “Will I see you again?”

Wendell looked to the High Elder for an answer to Kyliene’s question…but the Elder simply shrugged his shoulders.

“Count on it,” Wendell replied with a smile.

Then Wendell allowed the High Elder to lead him up the path toward the bridge.