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: Wendell wakes to three gnome scientists with a lot of questions…willing to do ANYthing to discover the answers.
Chapter 75
You are not a toy. You are not someone’s plaything. But if someone puts you under a microscope—don’t get offended. Use it as an opportunity to get a closer look at yourself, from another set of eyes…
Smoke swallowed the library in rolling waves of gray and black.
Chuck coughed hard, beard already damp as he dragged Lili toward the invisible door. With a sharp gesture, the outline of a knob shimmered into existence. He grabbed it…and recoiled with a sharp hiss, shaking his hand.
“The flames are in the hall!” he barked through a coughing fit. Grabbing a fistful of beard, he slapped it over his mouth and shoved Lili down by the shoulder. “Floor! Now! Get your mouth close to the floor…there’s still air!”
She didn’t argue. She dropped flat, pressing her face near the boards as smoke curled overhead like something alive.
Reaching into one of his sleeves, he pulled out a small battery fan and flipped the switch. The heavy smoke retreated from Lili’s face, but the air was already clawing at their lungs. Heat pressed against the metal door like a living thing.
With a sharp snap of his fingers, Chucks dragon staff leaped into his hand.
“Oy,” he snapped hoarsely. “Wake up.”
He rapped the carved dragon’s head against the nearby desk.
A wooden eye blinked. The little dragon stretched, the brown grain of wood rippling into green as it yawned. A gurgle bubbled up from its chest, followed by a sharp yap.
“I don’t care what you were dreaming about,” Chuck wheezed. “It’s time to work. There’s a fire. I need you to stop it.”
A pause. Then a protesting squawk.
Chuck glared at it. “I didn’t say you started it! I said stop it.” He hacked into his beard, his eyes watering. “And don’t give me that look. I know you’re fond of making fire. That does not mean you’re exempt from unmaking them.”
The tiny head leaned closer, crystal eyes unblinking.
Chuck sighed, dropping his beard. “No, you’re not made of flesh. Congratulations. I am. Which means I burn.” He rapped the staff against the glowing door. “Feel that? Of course you don’t. So kindly deal with the inferno before I melt into the furniture.”
The eyes blinked.
A curt squawk.
“I DON’T CARE IF IT STINKS!”
Chuck yanked an oven glove from his sleeve, grabbed the knob, and flung the door open just long enough to hurl the staff into the flames before slamming it shut again.
A minute passed.
Then another.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“You are not coming back in here,” Chuck shouted, “until the fire is gone!”
A pause.
A squawk.
Cher-squaw!
“Oh, don’t start,” Chuck wheezed. “I’ve seen what you eat. Don’t you dare complain now.”
The wizard finally collapsed beside Lili, offering her the end of his beard. She shook her head, her own eyes watering, but stared at him until he met her gaze.
“You are a very strange mägo,” she said between shallow breaths.
Chuck half-laughed into his beard. “That’s the rumor.”
The smoke thickened, stealing the last scraps of air. Even the small battery fan sputtered and died.
“I hope…” Lili choked, “…Morty and Deloris…fared better.”
Chuck nodded—then froze.
“Morty!” he gasped.
In an instant, he was on his feet, yanked off his hat and pulled out two firefighter masks and an axe. Passing one to Lili, he snapped his into place. Axe in hand, he grabbed the door. “Stand back!”
“One—two—”
He yanked it open.
Nothing happened.
No flames. Only smoke, curling and retreating.
Chuck stepped into the hall, eyes scanning left, then right. The warehouse was ruined. Charred walls. Melted crates. Pitted cement still smoldered beneath his boots.
He moved carefully toward the lab.
The doors hung crooked. Windows were shattered. Where the PROMIS had stood was nothing but ash.
And sprawled atop it—
“Uuuurp.”
The dragon staff lay bloated like an overripe melon, smoke leaking lazily from every opening.
Chuck laughed. “Well, look at you! I knew you had it in you.”
Glassy eyes wobbled.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Chuck warned, glancing at the open window. Grabbing the staff, he dashed to the window and shoved the dragon-end outside. “NOW let it out.”
The dragon did.
A torrent of fire arced into the open air, cascading downward like a waterfall of flame several feet wide. The great thing about the structure of Clockworks, especially the lower districts, is the way it builds in layers. The warehouse was up high enough; the flames vanished before they touched another building.
Chuck patted the dragon’s head. “Feel better?”
A final urp. The beast deflated.
“I don’t say this enough,” Chuck murmured, tapping its nose, “but I’m proud of you.”
The dragon snapped playfully.
“Sleep it off,” he smiled. “Dream of fat, fertile lizards.” And with a simple toss into the air, the staff vanished.
Lili stood watching through her mask. “Strange indeed.”
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Chuck spun around, hands thrown up in a defensive posture, one leg up ready to kick.
“I think that’s Morty,” Lili said, pointing at the wall.
“Oh, my. Yes. Thank you, dear.” With a wave of his hands, doors appeared in the brick. He yanked them open.
Morty stumbled out mid-swing with a wrench, tripped, and landed face-first in ash. His head lifted and scanned the room without even attempting to get up.
“They…burned my home,” he said hoarsely.
Chuck didn’t interrupt.
“They took my work. My books. Everything.” Morty clenched ash in his fists. “And torched it!”
Deloris coughed quietly.
Chuck lifted Morty’s up from the ash. “Do you have what you need?”
Morty glared. “What kind of—”
“In this room,” Chuck cut in. “Can you finish the PROMIS?”
Morty scanned the space. “…Yes.”
“Tools?”
“Yes.”
“Power?”
The lamp overhead still glowed.
Chuck smiled. “Then you still have everything that matters.”
Deloris caught on first. “They think you’re finished.”
“And that,” Chuck said, “is a gift.”
At first I thought I heard the ocean.
The heavy, booming rhythm of waves hitting shore…rolling up sand, dragging back out, leaving that thin white film of foam behind. The kind of sound that belonged to warmth.
Sun.
Salt air.
A body that wasn’t aching in every joint.
But if it was the ocean, why did I feel so cold?
My skin felt wrong…like the air itself was too clean.
My mind kept swimming, drifting away from shore, the sound shifting…changing from surf to something sharper.
Crackling.
Plastic.
“Yes…place the scalpels over there. Right there. Thank you.”
It was a female voice.
Calm. Flat.
Not kind…just professional.
More tearing. Packaging. The annoying rip of sealed wrappers being opened. There was beeping too…incessant, needle-stabbing beeping that pried into my skull until I flinched.
Where…am I?
My eyelids tried to open, but they felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each. I forced them anyway…just a crack. A sliver of light burned through.
Dax.
The thought hit like a punch. My mind vomited images of gnomes jumping on the elf, swinging batons, hands grabbing, boots stomping.
What did they do to Dax?
I tried to take a deep breath, but even that felt like dragging air through wet cloth. When I tensed, muscles strained against something heavy and unseen.
“Daaxx…” I muttered.
The word came out as barely more than breath.
“He’s waking up, Ms. Callous.”
Male voice, deeper, closer. Not Shrewd. Someone else.
“Move away from the bed. All of you…back. Now. Is the sedative working?”
“It seems to be.” A hand touched my face. One lid was pulled wide. A bright light stabbed my eye. “Pupils are dilated.”
“Good. We’re ready. The rest of you can leave now.”
Tha-Thump-Thump.
Tha-Thump-Thump.
Tha-Thump-Thump.
Tha-Thump-Thump.
My heart hammered so hard I could feel it pulsing in my throat. I tried to swallow…and regretted it instantly. My throat was a dry, split tunnel of pain.
“What have you done with…” I rasped, “my friend?”
The female voice answered from a few paces away, measured as if she were reading from a chart.
“He’s safe. For now.”
For now.
I squeezed his eyes shut, then reopened them slowly.
White walls. Not the same room as before. The last room had a mirror wall and a table and chairs, like a performance. This was different. Sterile. Crowded. Machines pressed in around me on metal arms. Lights hung overhead, bright and focused, bleaching everything.
Figures stood near me wearing masks, bringing with them the smell of alcohol wipes and metal.
I tried to lift his head.
The beeping increased immediately.
Grunting, jaw clenched, I forced my chin forward. Cold air washed over my naked torso.
Naked.
My stomach dropped.
Naked?
I looked down.
My chest was bare…strapped…wired. Sensors stuck to my skin.
Tubes. Tape.
It was too much. All of it. I let my head fall back onto the pillow with a thump—and in that moment, despite everything, I smiled.
The Ithari was still invisible.
Good.
I blinked hard, trying to force my mind into focus. It was like thinking through mud. Foggy. Slow. Heavy.
Tha-Thump-Thump.
Tha-Thump-Thump.
Tha-Thump-Thump.
No mirror wall this time. But there were cameras—two I could see, mounted high in the corners, on metal arms. Tiny red lights blinked beneath them.
Watching.
Recording.
These gnomes weren’t the ones in control.
Shrewd, Upshot, Callous.
That realization floated up like driftwood. The tools were too prepared. The room was too staged. Someone else was behind this…someone who wanted evidence. Documentation. A record.
And next to the bed…trays of instruments.
Odd-looking tools.
Tha-Thump-Thump.
Tha-Thump-Thump.
Tha-Thump-Thump.
None of which looked like they belonged to healing.
“Can you hear me, Mr. Dipmier?” Ms. Callous finally asked.
She stepped up carefully, as if I might explode.
“May I call you Wendell?”
I worked saliva onto my tongue…but my mouth felt like paper. Finally, I could swallow once, painfully. “I can…hear you.”
“Good. Good.” Her black hair was pulled tight into a severe bun. The only skin I could see was pale where her mask didn’t cover, and her eyes—black as ink—watched me with a hungry sort of patience. “I’m going to conduct some experiments while Mr. Shrewd continues his questions. You’ll feel a variety of sensations.”
She patted my forearm with a gloved hand like I was a child about to get a shot.
“Feel free to cry out at any time if you have the urge. I assure you…you won’t hinder my work in the least.”
Oh. Crap.
“Isn’t there some kind of ‘ON’ switch to that rock in our chest?” Doubt shrieked. “We’re lying here like fish, and that female has a knife!”
She moved around toward my head.
“Not good, Wendell. Dude, come ON! She’s going to hurt us!!”
“And to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, I’m going to add a little motivation for you to keep still.”
A thin band…less than the width of my pinky…was laid across my throat and clipped to the bed.
That’s when I felt a sharp, prickling pressure.
“Did she…just put SPIKES around our throat?!?” Doubt gasped.
The spikes weren’t deep enough to kill…but they were deep enough to make swallowing a torture. My neck muscles rolled against the points and instantly felt the pain.
I hissed.
It took some effort, still feeling groggy, but I lowered my chin just enough to create a tiny gap between strap and skin.
Ms. Callous’s eyes crinkled. I could tell she was smiling under the mask.
“You see? Wonderful device. Already you’ve aligned your head and you are holding still. Well done.”
She leaned closer, voice soft.
“You won’t feel the spikes much…unless you push against them.”
Overhead hung large bags of cloudy fluid. Tubes snaked down, merged, and fed into my arms through a junction taped to my skin.
My arms felt…cold. Deep in my veins.
I flexed a hand.
Open. Close. A fist.
Then I tried my arm.
Nothing.
Straps cinched my wrists and upper biceps to the table.
My legs were bound too—both ankles and knees. Luckily, I still had pants on, but it didn’t matter. I felt exposed anyway. Helpless. Pinned and displayed like a specimen.
Tha-Thump-Thump
Tha-Thump-Thump
My chest rose and fell faster. This was bad. Panic climbed, and the machines responded…beeping faster…louder.
“Keep calm, Wendell,” Ms. Callous murmured as if she were soothing an animal. She lifted the syringe into view.
A small vial of green liquid clicked onto the end.
She drew it up.
“You can start your questioning, Mr. Shrewd.”
She set the vial down, inserted the needle into the IV junction, and pushed the green fluid in.
Shrewd stepped into view on the opposite side of the bed.
He wore a mask too now.
But I still recognized the posture. The smugness. The way he took up space as if he owned it.
In his hand was a small remote.
“Good morning, Mr. Dipmier.” Shrewd’s voice was almost cheerful, like we were meeting for coffee. “As you can see, we needed to take more precautions with you after that stunt last night.”
He leaned in slightly.
“You’re definitely a lot stronger than you look.”
He tugged a small monitor into view and adjusted it so I could see without turning my head.
“Ms. Callous has quite a talent when it comes to chemicals…but she rarely has enough subjects to test her creations upon.”
He tapped the monitor as if he were presenting a lecture.
“So we thought we’d put you to good use…while you watched the live show.”
Then he pointed to the cameras blinking in the corners.
“And fortunately, we will record everything for posterity’s sake. Mustn’t waste opportunities to learn, now should we?”
Tha-Thump-Thump
Tha-Thump-Thump
Tha-Thump-Thump
Shrewd clicked the remote.
The monitor showed another room—white walls, chains attached.
And hanging from those chains…
Dax.
My stomach flipped so hard I thought I was going to vomit.
The elf wasn’t moving.
Blood crusted his face, shoulders, chest. The Trench pilot suit had been cut back, tied around his waist to expose his ribs and belly and arms.
There was no way to tell whether he was breathing.
Shrewd’s masked grin was visible even through cloth and shadow.
“Seeing as you have a disturbingly close connection to your bodyguard…we’ve decided to try something different.”
Click.
The monitor zoomed closer.
“The rules of this game are very simple,” Shrewd said, voice almost delighted. “You tell me the truth, the whole truth, Mr. Dipmier…”
He paused, letting me feel the hook.
“…or your friend suffers.”
My throat worked against the spikes.
I couldn’t swallow.
I couldn’t look away.
All I could do was close my eyes, but that felt like a betrayal to Dax.
“Mr. Upshot is very gifted at inflicting and prolonging one’s pain,” Shrewd continued. “So he will be attending to your little friend.”
As if on cue, a bucket of water splashed Dax.
The elf coughed.
A wheeze.
A thin, wrecked sound came through the speaker.
Mr. Upshot stepped into view and waved cheerfully at the camera.
My hands clenched against straps I couldn’t break.
My breath shook.
When I tried to speak—the spikes bit into my throat.
…but I choked the words out, anyway.
“Don’t.”
Shrewd tilted his head. Even through the mask, Wendell could hear the smile. “Oh, but we already are.”
On the other side of the city, Motherboard paced in his office like a storm in a suit. Occasionally stepping out of camera view, he’d return as if movement alone could grind solutions into existence.
“Nat and Shamas are still being held and questioned at the Centurion Citadel,” he said, voice tight. “They rounded up everyone suspected of being involved. Your pit crew, some of the other Trench pilots, executives from W.E.T. INC…”
He exhaled hard.
“Even Bellows and the Brothers Trench.”
Chuck kicked the chair away from the desk with more force than necessary. It skidded and clattered onto a shelf. “Those mechanics don’t know anything!”
“The Centurions already determined that, Morphiophelius.” Motherboard rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Cryo64 got a few clips from the security cameras…investigators roughing them up. Tumbler was beaten pretty badly. That one fought back after the first blow.” He shrugged grimly. “Centurions don’t take kindly to resistance. The rest simply crumbled and answered anything asked of them.”
Deloris’s mouth tightened. “And they released them?”
“After one session of questioning, most of them walked.” Motherboard’s eyes hardened. “Because they truly didn’t know anything.”
Deloris leaned forward. “But Nat and Shamas?”
“They still have them.” Motherboard sat down, shoulders dropping an inch. “Since they worked closest with the pilots, the assumption is they possess intimate knowledge about who Wendell and Dax really are.”
He paused.
“The authorities are terrified now. They think there might be others in the city…masquerading as citizens.”
Chuck scowled, beard bristling. “The bodyguard doesn’t know anything either.”
“Maybe not,” Motherboard said carefully, “but he’s a clever one. And someone’s wanted him on a leash for a long time. This gave the Government Faction an excuse.”
He tapped the desk with a finger.
“Though they can’t prove anything, they’re using false accusations and exceptionally high bail to keep Nat and Shamas in prison.”
Chuck’s fingers drummed against his lip, thinking. The problem wasn’t the facts. It was the machinery of control. You didn’t need proof when you owned the cage and key.
Lili watched Chuck flip his hat off and begin rummaging through it.
Items flew.
Clash. Clatter. Shatter.
Binoculars. Spoons. Books. A football. A Christmas snow globe. Walkie talkies. A harmonica. A ukulele. A rubber chicken.
“What are you looking for?” Lili asked, incredulous despite the tension.
“Don’t worry about me,” Chuck muttered without looking up. “Just get changed. Something nice.”
“Our clothes were burned in the fire.”
Chuck froze mid-rummage.
He looked up as if someone had just slapped him with reality.
“Ooo, that’s right.”
He tossed his hat onto the desk and flopped back into a chair, suddenly deflated.
“Bugger.”
Morty sat rigidly on the edge of the room, soot still embedded in his beard. He said nothing. But his silence had teeth.
“We’ll need you in the field, Deloris,” Motherboard said. His face enlarged briefly as he adjusted the camera. “I’m sorry to say this…but you’ll also have to distance yourself from Morty.”
“Now wait just a—” Morty started, anger flaring.
Motherboard lifted both hands quickly. “There’s no other way. The authorities are looking for you, Mr. Teedlebaum. They believe you’re a traitor, wanted for questioning. Any connection to you is suspect.”
He looked directly at Deloris.
“Especially your wife. We need to create a new narrative the Government Faction will believe.”
Morty scoffed. “How do you plan on doing that? We’re already divorced.”
Motherboard’s grin flicked on, foxlike. “Do you have any original notes left for the PROMIS device? Written by hand, perhaps?”
Morty blinked, suspicious. “Of course I do. Most of my best thinking is done out of the lab. I keep journals.”
“Perfect.” Motherboard leaned forward slightly. “If you recopy your notes and give the originals to Deloris…”
“What for?” Morty frowned.
Deloris laughed softly, catching on. “To turn on you, sweetheart.”
Morty’s jaw dropped.
“If I show up with what looks like valuable PROMIS notes,” Deloris continued, “and turn them in…they might believe I’ve turned on you. That I’m cooperating.”
Morty folded his arms, sulking. “I’m surrounded by crazy people.”
“Mr. Teedlebaum,” Motherboard said, voice shifting into something heavier, something leader like, “the city is ripe and ready to implode. With all the panic and news, President Stump hasn’t made a single address about this national situation. Something’s amiss.”
He spoke slowly, each word nailed into place.
“The government system no longer works. Leadership is corrupt. They care about control, not citizens. And the people…” he exhaled, “…the people are asleep.”
He glanced off-camera, his expression worried.
“Generational damage. The kind you don’t notice until it’s normal. The average citizen doesn’t protest because they’ve become acclimatized to insanity.”
He turned back to the camera, eyes sharpened.
“This is our opportunity. And believe it or not…Wendell’s exposure might be the catalyst we’ve been waiting for.”
Morty’s arms dropped, the fight draining out of him in a sudden, ugly wave.
“And you have to have Deloris to do this.”
“Yes.”
“You have no one else?”
“Not with her talents.”
Without another word, Morty walked past Deloris and disappeared through the hole in the wall.
Deloris watched him go, throat tight.
“Deloris,” Motherboard said quietly, “I’m sorry.”
Chuck slid into the seat in front of the laptop, both hands braced on the desk like he was holding himself down.
“If you’ve been able to break in and find the other kids…where are Wendell and Dax being kept?”
Motherboard adjusted the mirrored glasses on his exceptionally large nose. “I’m sorry to say…I don’t know.”
Chuck’s head snapped up. “What do you mean you don’t know? Aren’t you wired into government systems? Don’t you use that sneaky, creepy, blue-faced specter to gather information? Can’t he crawl up the wires or peek in windows or—”
Motherboard bit his lip, barely containing a laugh. “We are looking diligently. It is our priority.”
Chuck nodded once, hard. “Then I have a favor to ask.”
“Name it.”
Chuck shot Lili a side glance that carried far too much meaning for how casual he tried to sound.
“How good are you at forging identity papers?”
Sweat gathered in the corner sockets of my eyes.
Unable to turn my head without shredding the flesh of my throat, I squeezed my eyes shut and let the liquid run down my cheekbones and into my ears.
“Don’t stop now, Mr. Dipmier,” Shrewd encouraged brightly. “You’re doing so well!”
He moved the monitor closer.
All I could hear was Dax whimpering through the small speakers. The elf coughed again, body spasming weakly. Blood and sweat and phlegm dripped off his chin.
“Your little friend only has two unbroken ribs left,” Shrewd chided, mock-sad. “Where is your mercy? Do you want us to hurt him?”
“No!” I cried, choking down a sob that burned my throat raw.
“Then tell me what I want to know!”
Had I made a bad call? There were so many innocent gnomes who would suffer unimaginable things if I told the truth. But my lies were literally killing Dax.
Tha-Thump-Thump
Tha-Thump-Thump
Tha-Thump-Thump
Tha-Thump-Thump
Hang on, Dax. Hang on.
But why? There was no exit. No rescue. No way out of these straps. No way to fight three sadists with a room full of machines and cameras and a razor collar.
This couldn’t be the end.
But the monitor didn’t lie. Dax was paying for every second I resisted.
So I made the best choice I could.
Submission without admission.
Make them think I cracked…without giving the real story.
As Shrewd looked again at his clipboard, I let myself whimper. Let myself sound broken. Let them smell victory.
“So you invaded our city on your own?” Shrewd asked.
“Infiltrated,” I rasped. “Not invaded.” I forced a broken little breath that might pass for a laugh. “It’s just me.”
“You decided to infiltrate Clockworks City and steal our technology…”
“No.” I swallowed painfully. “I came here to learn about you. To study you.”
He tried to smile. It came out as a grimace.
“Unlike other humans…gnomes don’t irritate me unless they’re sticking sharp objects into my skin.”
Ms. Callous laughed and jabbed another needle gleefully into my arm.
Pain pulsed through my veins like fire, but I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a scream.
All this had cost me. It had cost Dax far more.
But the story was shifting. I could feel it.
Shrewd was wandering away from the truth…toward something plausible…toward a lone human idiot.
That’s what they wanted to believe, anyway.
Still, each time Dax cried out, my mind tried to justify it.
Dax would do the same. To protect Alhannah.
Wouldn’t he?
My mind clung to that thought like a lifeline.
Without warning, Shrewd pushed down on the razor strap at my throat. Spikes bit. Flesh tore. Blood trickled down under my chin, pooling at my collarbone. “And Morty Teedlebaum had absolutely nothing to do with your plan?”
That’s when I laughed. As much as it hurt, they needed to see what I wanted them to see, so I laughed through the pain. “I used magic.” My voice cracked. “Charmed him from the moment he opened the door. He didn’t have a chance.”
“Magic?” Shrewd scoffed. “HAH! There’s no such thing.”
I blinked.
He doesn’t believe in magic?
That was…new.
Had I assumed too much about this world? I’d been surrounded by mages and creatures and impossible things since arriving on Elämä. But here, in this city of gears and wires…
Technology had replaced wonder.
Without blinking, I stared at Shrewd, letting the gnome’s certainty become a weakness.
Shrewd’s lips curled. “Magic is nothing more than folklore. Children’s stories.”
My voice was calm now, quieter, steadier.
“This great city that bars the world from getting in…has also kept the truth from you, Shrewd.”
Ms. Callous fumbled with the needle and nicked my skin. I flinched instinctively.
She grabbed gauze, pressed it, then froze.
The blood had stopped.
She stared at the small cut as if it had insulted her.
“Mr. Shrewd…”
“What is it?”
“I…” Her voice faltered. She glanced at Shrewd, then down at me again. She snapped the choker open and wiped the gauze across my neck.
I smiled.
Tha-Thump-Thump
Here it comes.
Tha-Thump-Thump
The cloth soaked up blood.
And revealed…clean skin.
No cut.
No torn flesh.
Nothing.
Her mask slipped as she inhaled sharply. She yanked it down and gaped at me like she was seeing an animal walk upright.
“How can this be?” she whispered. “What are you?”
I turned to her and just…smiled.
Mr. Shrewd’s brows furrowed. “Ms. Callous…”
“Are you not paying attention?” She snapped, pointing at my throat. Frustration flared into obsession.
She snatched up a scalpel and leaned over my chest.
Tha-Thump-Thump
Tha-Thump-Thump
Tha-Thump-Thump
“Watch.”
She made a small raking motion.
Tink.
The sound was wrong.
Metal on stone.
Ms. Callous stared at the scalpel. Tested it against her glove.
The razor sliced through the rubber effortlessly.
She backed away from me.
Confusion cracked her face.
Tha-Thump-Thump
Tha-Thump-Thump
Tha-Thump-Thump
“It would be appreciated,” Shrewd said stiffly, “if you would share your discoveries, Ms. Callous, as I seem to be falling behind in your calculations.”
“He’s not human,” she murmured. Her eyes widened. “He can’t be.”
Shrewd looked from her back to me, baffled.
I just smiled.
This was my opening.
“He heals himself as you cut into him,” she said quietly. “Watch.”
Ms. Callous didn’t hesitate.
With a sudden, violent motion, she drove the scalpel toward my chest.
TINK!
A flash of light exploded from my chest.
Ms. Callous flew across the room as if she’d been hit by a wagon. She struck the far wall, bounced, and dropped—unconscious before she hit the floor.
The scalpel shattered like glass.
Fragments slid off my chest and clinked against the sterile tile.
Mr. Shrewd stumbled backward, eyes wide. His voice trembled. “W-who are you?”
My smile faded into something colder, steadier.
It was now or never.
“I’m the Gnolaum,” I said matter-of-fact.
Shrewd snarled, suddenly angry. “Yes, yes—I know your pilot name.” He gripped the side of the bed, shaking it. “BUT WHO ARE YOU REALLY!?”
Checkmate.
I dropped my voice to a whisper. “You know me, Mr. Shrewd. Every gnome in this city knows me.”
I let the words sink in.
“You simply forgot.”
With that, I lifted my head as far as the spikes would allow and whispered, “Silmä inakmään.”
In the center of my bare chest, the Ithari appeared. A brilliant rainbow spilled across the walls, reflecting off metal and glass, painting every sterile surface with living color. It made the overhead lights look like weak imitations of daylight.
Mr. Shrewd fell back, knocking the monitor aside. Panic finally cracked him open. “T-this is impossible,” he stammered. “You can’t be real. You can’t be!”
“But I am real,” I said.
That’s when I looked at the cameras, staring straight into the blinking red lights, into whatever eyes were hiding behind them.
“When the Champion stands for the Gentre, the Assembly must stand with them—or be measured and found false.” - Oaths of the Assembly 6:1”
And in that moment, the room stopped being an interrogation chamber.
It became a witness stand.
My voice carried as truth, finally remembering it had teeth.
“I am the Gnolaum.”
