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: After losing everything in the arena, Wendell confronted Philburt Bellows—only to uncover the gnome’s hidden life of sacrifice and deception.
Chapter 68
Sometimes the Universe knocks you down on purpose. It’s a reminder to stop, look around…and notice the blessings you already have.
I wrung out the rag and laid it gently across Alhannah’s forehead. Her hands twitched on top of the blanket, every breath ragged and uneven.
Watching her struggle felt like standing beside someone underwater—close enough to see the panic but powerless to help. Her eyelids fluttered, brows twitching with flashes of pain that faded almost as soon as they came.
At least her color had started to come back. That was something.
What are you dreaming about, little one?
I brushed a few stray hairs from her cheek. This time, thank the stars, they didn’t come loose in my fingers. She still had bald patches along the sides of her head, but the back was completely smooth now. This whole situation didn’t make sense. She’d been fine one day and collapsed the next. Alhannah was all movement, all fire, never still long enough to be sick.
What happened?
I rested my hand on hers, careful not to wake her. We hadn’t known each other long…a few months…but she felt like the sister I’d actually wanted. Not like my real sister’s back home: bossy, selfish, and always ready to tell me how stupid I was.
No, Alhannah had this way of making me feel like I mattered. Like being myself was enough.
She grounded Chuck and Dax too.
The three of us might’ve torn each other apart long ago without her keeping the peace.
You need to get better, Alhannah, I thought, the lump in my throat making it hard to swallow. We all need you.
I need you.
Across the bed, Höbin slept slumped in a chair, snoring softly through his tangled mustache. The ends fluttered with each exhale like tiny silver flags. He looked wrecked—old and worn down. Chuck had told me Höbin hadn’t left her side since they brought her here. His left hand, the one missing the mechanical brace, rested on his chest. His cybernetic foot was off too…both prosthetics sat neatly on the windowsill behind him like obedient pets.
A wrinkled hand touched my shoulder.
Chuck.
He pressed a finger to his lips and nodded toward the door. I followed him out, careful to pull it shut behind us without a sound.
“She looks like she’s doing better,” I whispered.
Chuck sighed, stroking his mustache. His face looked as tired as I felt. “With all my soul, I wish she were.”
I stared at the door. “What’s wrong with her?”
He frowned, eyebrows dipping low. “That’s just it, son—I don’t have a clue. Höbin doesn’t either. She’s one of the healthiest children I’ve ever known, but she’s showing the advanced effects of multiple illnesses all at once. All…feeding off one another. And without the normal symptoms.” He shook his head. “We’ve tried every natural remedy known to us…and Höbin knows more than I do. But nothing worked…until…”
“Until?” I asked.
“Until we fed her.”
I blinked. “That’s it? She just needed some food?”
Chuck slid his hat back and scratched his forehead. “Well, yes…but also no.”
“You realize that doesn’t make any sense, right?”
He gave me a look. “We found she’s literally starving, son. That’s why she’s so weak. We just can’t figure out why. Höbin tried feeding her normal meals—her favorites. Blended them up so she could drink them. But she couldn’t keep anything down.”
I winced. “Blended meat? That’s…yeah, no thanks.”
Chuck ignored me and took my elbow, steering me down the hall.
“This isn’t the only thing frustrating me, son,” Chuck grumbled as we walked. His face scrunched up as if he’d bitten something sour. “This is the second blasted mystery since we got to Clockworks that I can’t put my finger on. Which is not only uncommon…it’s downright tickin’ me off.”
He led the way toward the kitchen. “The last thing I need, when everyone already thinks I’m senile, is to actually become senile.”
“So, what do we do?” I asked, stopping short and pulling my arm free. Voices and the rattle of dishes drifted from the kitchen ahead. “The TNT crew and Shamas still don’t know who we really are, and I think we should keep it that way. Probably smart not to let anyone know Höbin’s here, either. Just to be safe.”
Chuck nodded, then froze halfway through the gesture. His eyes studied my face long enough to make my skin crawl. “For now,” he said slowly, “we’ll see what Höbin’s little concoction does for her. He managed to get some rare magical components from Inimitable Essentials.” He shivered, like even saying the name made his back ache. “Dodie McGlynn’s running a tab for him…poor fool…and I helped him make what you might call a hyperactive nourishing formula.” He sighed and tried to grin. “So… we’ll see if it works.”
Before I could answer, he gripped my arm again—this time like he meant it. “Best we stay positive in front of the others,” he said, his tone sharpening. “Especially the monkey. We all love Alhannah, but Dax’s… particularly fond of that child. If he thought she could…”
He stopped.
“Could what?” I asked.
Chuck waved the question away. “Let’s just smile and hope for the best, shall we?”
My heart sank.
That kind of answer never meant anything good.
But Chuck had already squared his shoulders, pasting on the kind of grin only years of performance could teach. He strode into the kitchen, all charm and swagger. “So what’s for dinner?” he bellowed, clapping his hands together like a man ready to banish bad news with noise.
“Mind if I join you?”
I stopped mid–brussels-sprout poke and looked up. Lili stood at the edge of the table, clutching her plate like it might fly away.
“If that’s alright,” she added softly. “You look like you’re deep in thought.”
“More like deep in stress,” I admitted, sitting up a little straighter.
The rest of the room was alive in its usual, ridiculous way. Freak and Socket were tangled together on the couch watching You’ve Got Nails, Telly and Tumbler argued over a board game, and Dax snored loud enough to rattle the utensils. It was chaos wrapped in comfort.
Home,…in a weird kind of way.
Which made it stranger that Lili chose to sit here.
There were plenty of open spots. Plenty of people she could’ve sat near. But after over two months in Clockworks…after two months of me trying and failing to get her attention…this was the moment she picked.
You’d think being “the hero” would come with perks, I told myself.
Turns out it just makes rejection sound more poetic.
She must’ve read my expression. “You’re wondering why I want to sit here.”
“It crossed my mind.”
Without waiting for permission, she slid into the chair beside me. “You’re the only human here,” she said, slicing into her food with precise, delicate motions.
I snorted. “There’s Chuck. You spend half your time with him.”
She shook her head, mouth full. “Mm-mm. He’s a mägo. Doesn’t count.”
I jabbed my fork into the nearest chunk of… whatever it was. “Well, I’m the hero with a fist-sized diamond stuck in his chest for the next thousand years.” I realized too late I was talking loud enough for the couch crew to hear, so I leaned in and lowered my voice. “What would you call that?”
She looked at me for a long second, eyes calm and unreadable. “I’d say you’re stuck.”
Then she went back to cutting her food—tiny, graceful movements, like this was a royal banquet instead of a mismatched kitchen table. No questions. No small talk. Just the sound of knife and fork meeting plate.
The silence gnawed at me. She had a perfect posture that made me feel clumsy just being near her. Something about her composure—too calm, too untouchable—made my skin itch.
What is it with you? I thought. Is it the way you sit there, like nothing can touch you? Like you’re better than the rest of us?
I gritted my teeth.
Pompous.
Arrogant…
“Why are you even here?” I finally blurted. The words slipped out before I could stop them. My tone was sharper than I had intended.
“The mägo brought me,” she said simply, without even looking up. “It’s not like I had a choice.”
I huffed a laugh. “You’re saying Chuck kidnapped you?”
She froze. Knife and fork down, hands folded neatly in front of her. When she lifted her gaze, her eyes were steady. “I’m not saying it. I’m telling you.”
“That’s stupid.”
“If you think the truth is stupid.”
I bit my tongue so hard it hurt. She had this way of making me feel like a kid being scolded without ever raising her voice. The day had already been heavy, and I didn’t have the energy to spar with anyone, especially her.
“You know,” I said finally, “Dax could probably take you home if you wanted to go. I could ask him.”
For the first time, something shifted in her expression. Her lips parted slightly, softening, but she lowered her gaze. “Thank you. No.”
“You… don’t want to go home?”
She hesitated. “That’s not what I said.”
“Then get out of here,” I said, more frustrated than angry. “Run off if you hate it so much. No reason to stay surrounded by all this dark magic.” I chuckled at my own sarcasm…but her face fell, and the sound died in my throat. “Sorry,” I muttered.
She shook her head. “No. You are right. All of this…” She gestured around the room, then toward the TV where a gnome was explaining the proper way to mount a bathroom cabinet. “All of this makes me most uncomfortable. I am no longer terrified, but I am not at ease. Nothing here feels familiar. Even the smells and sounds seem unnatural to me.”
“Then why not leave?” I asked gently. “Really—Dax would take you.”
“No.” She cut me off fast. “It’s not possible right now.”
“But—”
She forced a smile, polite and thin. “I… want to be close to Alhannah.”
That stopped me cold.
“She’s the one person who helped me adjust here,” Lili continued softly. “She was kind to me in Til-Thorin. I would be ungrateful to leave her now…not while she’s so ill.”
“Oh,” I said quietly, guilt creeping in. “Well… that’s different. I…”
“Hey, Dax!” Freak jabbed the recliner with his foot, and the elf jolted awake.
“What—what’s happening?” Dax blinked, rubbing his eyes.
“Looks like you’re movin’ up in the world, pal!” Freak grinned and pointed to the TV. “They’re moving the finals to the new arena. Just look at that place…”
I turned to the screen and gasped.
The cameras swept across a massive glass-topped dome gleaming in the fading light. Around the rim, towering statues of S.L.A.G.s held flaming torches aloft—giant steel guardians frozen mid-salute. Beyond the structure stretched a mountain range jagged as a saw, and past that, the ocean shimmered gold with the setting sun. The whole thing glittered like a gigantic Ithari set into the world itself.
“They finished it?” Dax muttered, sitting up straighter.
Socket snatched the remote and cranked the volume. “The new Trench Arena, baby.”
The broadcast blared through the room:
“...completed just in time for the finals! Originally intended as a planetarium, the Solar Dome was purchased during Trench Wars’ second season and converted by Bellows Construction into the new home of the sport. With open skies, record seating capacity, and cutting-edge tech, the biggest names in the game will meet here next week for the final match: Turnpike, Armored Ensemble, and Beatdown! Trinity versus Steel and Stone’s grappling sensation! Two million tickets sold out, folks…and not even this anchorgnome could find one…”
Socket muted the TV, bouncing in her seat. “You hear that? We’re finally gonna get our name out there. Wipe our slate clean as a baby’s backside!”
Dax let his head drop back against the chair. “If I can win,” he grumbled. He turned toward me at the table. “This didn’t exactly turn out the way we planned, did it, kid?”
I glanced at Lili, then stood to take my dishes to the sink. “Does it ever?” I rinsed the plate and smirked over my shoulder. “But hey, Mr. Finalist—I’ve got no doubt you’ll pull this off. Steel and Stone all the way.”
“That’s right!” Freak bellowed, trying to sit up but prevented by his belly. Socket gave him a shove, launching him upright. “You’ve still got the best pit crew in the league. We’ve got a couple of new toys to strap to your rig, so don’t count us out!”
Tumbler puffed on his pipe like a locomotive. “We’ll kick the butt-grease outta those S.L.A.G.s!”
Telly, ever the cheat, swapped a few of his game pieces while the old gnome wasn’t looking. Everyone cracked up.
“Well, there you go, Dax,” I said, laughing with them. “How can you lose with backup like this?”
Dax didn’t answer right away. He was still staring at the frozen image of the arena on the screen. “Two against one ain’t great odds,” he muttered, standing and stretching until his spine popped. “Even if the pilot’s as cool as me.”
Socket lobbed a pillow at his head.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
We all froze.
“I’ll get it,” I said, but Dax was already on his feet.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
“Alright!” Dax shouted. “We’re coming!”
I undid the latch and swung the door open…only to have Shamas shove past me, panting hard, sweat glistening on his forehead.
“Where is she?” he barked, eyes wild. He looked straight at me, nearly vibrating with panic. “Where is she!?”
Before I could speak, Dax stepped in front of me like a wall. “Let’s try that again,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “only this time, use a tone that doesn’t get your nose broken.” He cracked his knuckles for emphasis.
Shamas blinked a few times, the manic edge melting from his expression. “Sorry,” he muttered. Then softer, “Sorry, Wendell. I heard about Red only just an hour ago. Been racing across the city ever since.” His eyes darted toward the hall that led to the sleeping quarters. “I came as fast as I could.”
I brushed past Dax and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Shamas. Let’s talk in the kitchen.”
He nodded, breath still shaky, and followed me in silence.
Dax yanked a couple of chairs away from the table. “Have a seat, kid.”
Shamas shrugged off his jacket and sat down. “Thanks.” He gave Lili a polite nod, which she returned with her usual calm indifference.
Before I could say anything, Freak got to his feet. “We’ll be off then,” he said, hoisting Socket up under one arm. Telly helped Tumbler wobble upright. “We’ve got time to prep Turnpike for the fight. Probably a good idea to keep it quiet around here anyway—for Alhannah’s sake.”
“Appreciate that, Boss,” Dax said, shaking his hand. “She needs her rest.”
“Boss,” Freak grinned at Socket. “I like that title.”
Tumbler snorted as they headed for the door. “I ain’t callin’ you boss. Twit, sure. Bossy, all the time.” He glared at Telly, who couldn’t stop grinning. “I swear I had you on the ropes that time. Startin’ to hate that blasted game.”
“It’s just like Trench Wars, Tumbler,” Telly teased, patting him on the back. “It’s all about timing and strategy.”
Freak rolled his eyes. “Heard that before.”
Lili pushed her chair back quietly. “I’ll give you some privacy.”
I reached out before I could think better of it and touched her arm. “You… don’t have to go.”
She looked at me. Not my face, but my hand. Just stared until I pulled it back. “I have work to do anyway,” she said coolly.
I watched her braid sway down her back as she walked away. When she disappeared through the doorway, I was still staring at the empty space she’d left behind.
“Everything alright?” Shamas asked gently. Dax drummed his fingers on the tabletop.
“What?” I blinked and turned back. “Oh—yeah, fine. Just fine.” Even to my ears, it sounded weak.
Dax leaned back, crossing his arms. “You don’t have to worry about Alhannah, kid. She’s in good hands. The best, actually.”
Shamas didn’t look convinced. “I’ll believe that when I see her up and yelling again.”
“I talked with Chuck earlier,” I said. “He thinks she’s been starving herself.”
“Starving herself?” Shamas frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Alhannah at all.”
“I know. My guess is it’s the stress. She’s been trying to hold everything together since the start. From what I’ve seen, she’s used to taking care of herself—not a whole crew. Add the training, the constant danger, the attempts on my life…” I shrugged. “It’s a lot.”
Shamas sighed. “I don’t think my fighting with her helped either.” He glanced at Dax, who hadn’t said a word, just kept staring at him with that unreadable elf expression. Shamas looked down, scratching at a mark on the table. “You might not know this, but Red and I grew up together. Best friends. We used to take on bullies, run the playground like little warlords. Collected milk money to ‘protect’ the smaller kids.” He chuckled softly. “We liked to fight. Guess the gifts were just perks. But she was always there for me—especially after my parents died.”
I looked at Dax. Still no reaction. The elf was a statue.
Shamas kept going. “Both my parents worked for Red’s mother. And being an only child, well… she’s the closest thing I have to a sister.”
He shifted in his seat, rubbing his palms together. He meant every word. That kind of loyalty wasn’t just talk—it was raw, the kind that came from shared history.
I smiled and knocked my knuckles against the table. “I know what you mean.”
Shamas looked up at Dax. “She’s going to be okay, right?”
Dax finally exhaled and nodded. “That’s what Chuck says…”
Before he could finish, a voice cut through the air.
“Is there any more ice, boys?” Höbin stumbled into the kitchen, half-dressed and looking like he hadn’t slept in a week. “Her fever’s gone, but she seems to feel better on the cooler side…Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
He froze mid-step, squinting. His mustache twitched upward like two white snakes coiling toward his ears.
“Shamas? …Why, you little tyke—is that you?”
Shamas stood immediately, straightening his posture. “Hello, Mr. Luckyfeller,” he said with the kind of respect that didn’t need to be forced.
The old gnome hobbled forward with that familiar half-limp, half-waddle and wrapped Shamas in a surprisingly fierce hug. “My oh my, you’ve grown! You make my one good eye tear up, seeing you here!” He stepped back, beaming so wide I thought his mustache might fly off. “All grown up—and quite the strapping gnome!”
Shamas straightened, looking awkwardly proud. “Thank you, sir. But I thought… well…” He glanced over at me and Dax, clearly unsure how much to say.
“That I’d been given the boot?” Höbin said, saving him from the stammer. “Disowned by a malicious government and cast out into the cold, cruel world to die as a traitor and vagabond?”
Shamas swallowed. “Uh, well… yes, sir.”
Höbin threw his head back and laughed loud enough to shake the ice trays. “Couldn’t be happier!” He tapped the side of his nose. “Came in the back door, boy. Best not to mention it to anyone, or things might get… sticky, eh?”
Shamas smirked. “Not a peep. But for what it’s worth, sir, I hope you use that back door more often. It’s good to see you again.”
“Likewise, RH,” Höbin said warmly, clapping him on the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need ice for my little girl.”
He shuffled to the freezer and clattered around until a full tray emptied into a plastic bag. Just as he was about to leave, he caught Shamas watching him with a worried look. Höbin jabbed a finger into his chest. “She’s going to be fine; don’t you worry. Best care in Clockworks—she’s got me and the wisest man I know.”
Shamas blinked. “You mean Chuck?”
“I mean gnome,” Höbin corrected quickly, laughing under his breath. “Been spending too much time with humans.” He rolled his eyes at me and Dax, slapped his forehead, and limped out of the kitchen, muttering about melted ice.
When the sound of his boots faded, I turned back to Shamas. “So you don’t have to worry about Alhannah. I’m guessing you’ll be taking over guard and transport during the finals?”
“That’s the plan.”
Dax stretched and stood. “Then let’s call it a night. We’ll get everything organized in the next couple of days.”
Shamas hesitated, then sank back into his chair. “Actually… Alhannah’s not the only reason I’m here.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a worn notepad. “When she thought you were dead, Wendell, she sent me digging—to find out who threw you into the furnace, and who was behind it.” He flipped through the pages, eyes scanning lines of notes. Then he looked up at me. “You’ve got to be the luckiest gnome alive to have survived that fall.”
I tried to smile, but it came out crooked. “Yeah… lucky.”
Dax leaned forward, rubbing his palms together like a gambler waiting for the dice to roll. “So—did you finally get enough to trace it back to the Trinity scum?”
Shamas shook his head. “No.”
I frowned. “No?”
He flipped another page, his voice lowering. “It wasn’t Trinity who kidnapped you. In fact…” He met my eyes, dead serious. “They didn’t have anything to do with it.”
