31. The Final Peace

I am the host of Ithari… no, I AM THE HERO… and I CAN COMMAND FIRE!

When the Gem awakens to call a Hero, the world is ill prepared...and its fate is placed in the hands of a 17 year old boy, named Wendell. 

Some will say this is nothing but a tale of fiction.
Let them think as they may. 

After all...I can't fix stupid.

Previously: As the siege of Til-Thorin intensified, Wendell grappled with the burgeoning, unpredictable nature of his powers. In the heat of battle, a foreboding vision revealed the grim future awaiting them, propelling Wendell to seek a way to change the looming fate..

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There is no such thing as an end to life. It merely takes on another form or travels to another plane of existence.
You cannot undo what is meant to last forever.

I sprinted through the Great Hall, leaping over benches and crashing into tables in a frenzy.

I’m coming! I shouted in my mind. Hang on, I’m almost there!!

I rounded the corner into the kitchen and slammed into a wooden crate lying in the middle of the floor. My thin body flipped over it, hitting the stone hard. Alhannah nearly ran into me as I jumped up, angrily kicking the obstacle out of the way.

“What is that smell?!” she squeaked, slapping a hand over her mouth. I turned my head into the crook of my elbow, gagging.

The kitchen was a mess from the quake. Pots and pans scattered everywhere, a table overturned.

I gasped as I saw smoke rising from the cook’s body. The fat man was halfway out of the hearth, legs still burning in the fire, his head crushed under an overturned table.

How could something like that happen—

“Wendell,” Alhannah whispered, tugging on my hand. She pointed. “Look.”

Four young women in servant attire lay frozen on the ground, faces contorted in fear. Their skin was pale as snow… and they had no eyes, no tongues.

I dry heaved. My mind raced with flashes from my dreams.