Wendee's Gambit

High above the plateau, perched on a narrow ledge overlooking the group’s campfire, stood Wendee—a figure so slight and small she looked like a shadow of the mountain itself. Barely taller than a child, her thin frame was wrapped in a cloak that seemed too large for her. The hood covered most of her face, leaving only her piercing green eyes visible, glowing faintly in the gloom.

Despite her diminutive size, there was an air of command about her that made the shadows around her ripple like they obeyed her will. In her hands, she clutched a long, gnarled staff that seemed too big for her, the wood dark and twisted, pulsing with a crimson glow.

“They move faster than expected,” she said, her voice high-pitched yet dripping with venom. It carried an unsettling authority, echoing across the cliffside like a whispered threat.

From the darkness behind her emerged a skeletal creature, its elongated limbs and glowing red eyes towering over Wendee’s tiny form. Despite its size, the creature moved with deference, bowing low before her.

“They carry the stone,” it rasped, its voice crackling like dry leaves. “Its power shields them and guides them.”

Wendee tilted her head, a dark smile curling her lips. “The stone,” she said softly, her grip tightening on the staff. “And the scroll piece. Such fragile little things in the hands of such fragile little mortals.”

The skeletal creature shifted uneasily, its glowing eyes flicking toward the campfire below. “Shall we attack, Mistress?”

“No,” Wendee replied sharply, her small stature doing nothing to diminish the weight of her command. She turned, her oversized cloak swirling around her. “Let them think they’ve won this round. Let them feel safe, as if their journey isn’t already doomed.”

The creature hesitated. “They grow stronger. The stone—”

“The stone,” Wendee interrupted, her voice rising to a sharp, childlike pitch, “is a tool. A fool’s hope. They think it protects them, but it binds them as surely as chains.” Her smile widened, and she took a step closer to the edge of the cliff, her small figure silhouetted against the stormy sky. “And I will be the one to break those chains.”

The creature bowed again, its skeletal form dissolving back into the shadows.

Wendee raised her staff, the crimson glow spreading like tendrils of light through the cracks in the rocks around her. The mountain itself seemed to groan in response, a low, shuddering sound that reverberated through the air.

“Let them run to the Shardspire,” Wendee murmured, her voice dripping with malice. “Let them think they are clever, that they have a chance. And when they stand on its threshold, I will be there to greet them.”

Her laugh was soft, almost playful, but it sent a chill through the air. The clouds above seemed to darken, as if her laughter had sapped the light from the sky.

“Soon,” she whispered, her small frame rigid with purpose. “Very soon.”

Down on the plateau, Annabeth adjusted her pack and glanced back at the campfire, now just a smoldering pile of ash. Something about the morning felt off—the air was heavier, the horizon darker than it should have been.

“You okay?” Emmalyn asked, her sword slung across her back as she stomped out the last embers of the fire.

Annabeth hesitated. “I don’t know. It feels like... we’re being watched.”

Kyran, who had been sharpening his dagger nearby, stood and surveyed the cliffs above them. “You’re not wrong. The mountain’s restless. Something’s stirring.”

“Something or someone?” Annie asked, leaning casually against her satchel. Despite her relaxed posture, her eyes scanned the surroundings with keen alertness.

Annabeth frowned, her fingers brushing against the glowing stone in her pocket. “I dreamed of fire last night. Fire and a... presence. Small, but—” She shook her head. “But powerful.”

“Great,” Emmalyn muttered, tightening her grip on her sword. “So now we’re fighting evil hobbits? This just keeps getting better.”

Annie chuckled, though it was hollow. “If they’re small, they’ll be harder to hit.”

“Focus,” Kyran said sharply, his eyes still fixed on the cliffs. “Whatever it is, it wants us to keep moving. And I’m guessing it wants us to make mistakes.”

Annabeth nodded, her unease growing. “Then we don’t give it what it wants. We stay sharp, and we don’t let our guard down.”

As they began their trek toward the distant peak of the Shardspire, none of them noticed the small figure perched high above, watching their every step with glowing green eyes.

Wendee’s smile returned as she whispered to herself, “Run as fast as you like, little ones. I’ll still be there when you fall.”