19. Owen

Owen

Owen let out a heavy breath as he walked around the fort, letting the snow hit his face and cool him down to steady his racing heart. Colt loved him? After only a few months together, he'd concluded that? And here with the world turning into chaos, at Owen's own hands. Yet here this man was, declaring love…

And I just gave him the cold shoulder. I ruined the moment, and all for what?

He knew the reason why. Every time Owen told someone he loved them, that person died or left. His mother, Amias, Gilda… he wasn't worthy of their love. Loving him only carved a pathway to ruin, and for Owen, heartbreak. If he confessed to Colt that he loved him too, Colt's fate would be sealed with Owen's curse.

But how his heart had glowed when he'd heard those words. He had wanted to cry tears of joy, and yet he was so afraid of losing him. When he'd seen how hurt Colt had looked when he'd pulled away, a painful sensation had run through his chest and through his scar. The feeling was still there, so deep that Owen had to stop and take a breath to steady himself.

A few soldiers were preparing the fort for the night. Owen made his way up a few steps to a rock wall, and his heart stilled when he saw Elian standing there. He was about to turn and retreat when Elian saw him .

He reluctantly made his way over, sliding his hand along the cool stones, which were soothing after using his fire to spar. Below him, the fort was spread out in a square, with men bustling about, stockpiling arms or repairing walls. After all the turmoil they'd endured in the Unseen Vale and through Vanhelm, this fort was an unexpected refuge amid the hard edges of the outside world.

The rain fell lightly, and the breeze carried the earthy scent of damp soil mixed with the faint tang of metal from weapons. Owen stood next to Elian and listened to soldiers laughing in the distance and the sounds of sparring swords clashing.

When Elian cleared his throat, Owen stole a glance at him. The Wielder stood at ease, his short dark hair catching the snowflakes as they fell. Through his full beard, Owen made out the scar where Gilda had punctured his face with her steel knuckles.

Owen clenched his teeth and looked away, his thoughts swirling as the weight of one question filled his mind. He hadn't wanted to ask Brom, as he was afraid of the answer. That left the Wielder. He was afraid of what the man might say as well, and the unease coiled in his stomach, but he had to know.

"Who…" Owen started, picking a piece of the rock wall, "who buried Gilda's body?"

At first, Elian was quiet, and then he said, "While Brom was being taken care of by the Hunter, I dug the grave. There were shovels in the graveyard, left behind by the Legion unit that had been there before, by those who were killed by Rem's men."

The breeze blew against Owen's hair, and he strained his eyes as he tried to make sense of what the Wielder was saying. "You dug… her grave… "

"Yes." Elian looked down. "I'm sorry for what happened at the Gate, Owen. It never should have."

Owen could see that Elian was earnest.

"I'm still trying to… understand it." Owen shivered. "Just as I tried to understand Amias being captured."

"Amias was recovering well when I left Milarc. I had no choice but to abandon that mission."

Owen swallowed and curled his fists. "Sometimes, I can't help but wonder, if I had just let you kill me… could all of this have been prevented?"

"No."

He looked up sharply at Elian, and when he saw the man give a faint, almost painful-looking smile, he narrowed his eyes, waiting for him to go on.

"If it hadn't been you, it would have been someone else. Another Shadowborn who slipped through the cracks. You're right, I think… that the Legion chose wrong." Elian turned to face him. "If I had caught up to you sooner, before what happened at the graveyard, I don't think I could have killed you."

"Pity?" Owen leaned his elbow on the wall, finding this unbelievable.

Elian seemed to think deeply for a moment. "No, not pity…" He brought his Core out from his pouch, and Owen immediately stiffened. "I have come to realize, Owen, that this mechanism is nothing more than hypocrisy." He glanced at him from his lowered brow as he held the brass object in his palm. "The Legion has taken much from the Astran people. They don't—you don't—deserve any of this. No Astran does."

The Wielder's words stirred Owen's thoughts, making him think deeply. He'd certainly made many mistakes in his life. For the hundredth time, a pang of regret washed through him as he thought about not fighting against Rem and opening the Gate.

Owen looked down at the golden sphere as it glowed blue and sighed. "I've often wondered how it works, if an Astran's Essence goes into it, or a part of their soul. There's emberstone inside, isn't there?" When Elian nodded in confirmation, Owen went on, "Then why does it glow blue?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps colored glass is inside."

"That must be why I was able to grab hold of it using the dagger before. The dagger holds a strange power on its own, one that was able to destroy your Core."

Elian sighed and tucked the Core away. "It was a strange thing to see. It was the moment I knew there was more to you than meets the eye. The Core is mostly used to move things, as you do. The emberstone is a recent addition to the newer Core models. It helps sense Astrans, same as you can, but I gather you have a better grasp on those things than a Core does."

Hearing about the ways a Core could mimic his Essence put a bad taste in Owen's mouth, but he was curious about a few other things. "And what about the blue sparks?"

"Another added feature recently," Elian said. "The sun powers them in a way, charging them. Coupled with the Essence inside, it can create a spark. A bit like flint and steel… and a bit like your Dark Flame. It was designed with that in mind."

"But it can't read minds…" Owen stated more than asked.

Elian shook his head. "No. A Core is… nothing more than a piece of machinery. It can't think, can't speak. But there is much we can learn from its design, for the good of the people."

Owen clenched his fists. "Such as? "

"How to power electricity to those in poor districts, or in villages. Think of the things we could do with the electricity alone."

Owen looked sharply at him, his brow creasing angrily. "You mean you want to use Essence to do this?"

"No, Owen." Elian smiled faintly and looked down. "I would never suggest such a thing. I meant merely making use of steam mills. Luthien and Alacor both have them, and a few towns in Milarc and Avathon. They use coal to power machinery."

This was all over Owen's head. He didn't know much about machinery. The term was so new to him, just as firearms were. He knew about electric lights, but didn't know how they worked.

Owen never thought he'd be conversing so cordially with this man. While a piece of him was still furious and wary of Elian, he began to suspect the Wielder was truly repentant. He was Legion, and yet he was starting to see Owen's plight, his side of things. He wanted to tell him he was sorry for what happened in the woods with the men, but Owen had a feeling the Wielder already knew. There was no point in broaching that subject once again. If Elian wanted to talk about it, he would.

"Have you… looked any more at your father's journal?" he asked.

"Some," Owen replied. "There are a few rituals outlined in it, like the Cleansing, with a few symbols used, but not the actual ritual patterns. Then there are brief notes about something called the Soul Sacrament." He glanced at Elian, whose eyes had widened. "Do you know what that is?"

"It's a banned ritual by the Legion. Used to offer one's soul to a higher power, for whatever reason. Peculiar that your father mentioned it. It isn't spoken of in Wielder circles. "

A strange sense of dread fell over Owen as he pondered Elian's words. If even the Legion outlawed this ritual but saved the Cleansing for Astrans, then it must be too terrible for anyone to enact.

"Is there… another ritual?"

"Hmm…" Elian thought for a moment, hands clasped behind his back. "There is the Cleansing and then the Soul Sacrament, which I won't talk about. There has been another spoken of called the Transcendence Rite, but Wielders never learn of it. There isn't much recorded on it. I just know asking about it can get a Wielder permanently removed from the Legion."

Curious…

Three rituals. The Cleansing. The Soul Sacrament. The Transcendence Rite. What did they all mean?

"Which reminds me, I have something to give you," Elian said as he pulled out a small leather book from his inner coat pocket.

Owen's eyes widened. "You have my journal?" He snatched it from his hands and turned the pages. It really was his old journal, the one he thought he'd lost in Milarc. Every page was still intact, and he ran his fingers over the familiar ink.

"You left it in Covehaven. At the time, I was searching for you. I had to read through it for answers, so I apologize. But if it's any consolation, you write very well."

Owen inhaled a sharp breath of air and looked down. He hated that the man had read his journal, but he was glad to have it back. Though he wasn't sure what to make of the Wielder's compliment.

When Elian turned on his heel and walked away, Owen called out, "Wielder!"

Elian turned promptly and waited for him to go on.

Owen stared at him briefly before he said, "Thanks. "

The man gave him a hesitant nod before leaving.

After having gotten enough cold fresh air, Owen made his way back to their room. Colt was inside, already building up the fire in the hearth. Owen's heart beat wildly upon seeing him, and the strange, painful sensation crossed his chest again, stinging so deeply that he could feel the actual pang of heartbreak coming from them both.

"Guess who had my journal?" Owen said, making his way to the bed. He plopped the little book onto it and waited for Colt.

"The Wielder?" came his reply.

"Yes. He said he used it to try and find me at the time."

"I'm glad you have it back," Colt said.

"Yes…" Owen came up to him, feeling guilty for his outburst earlier. Getting fresh air had helped, and now he was ready to talk. The sadness swirled around Owen so strongly from his lover that he couldn't take it anymore, and finally he said, "I'm sorry I walked away earlier."

"Owen—"

"I just didn't know what to say. It isn't that I don't feel the same way, it's just… there's so much going on, and I—"

"Owen, you don't have to say anything." Colt gave a faint smile, and Owen stared at the deep browns and greens of his eyes.

"Yes, but…" Owen's shoulders slumped as he looked away, and he went quiet. As Colt returned to building the fire, the silence weighed heavily on him, and his frustration mounted.

"I'm afraid if I tell you how I feel, I'll lose you!" Owen burst out. "Just like I lost my mother, and Amias, and Gilda, because I'm cursed."

Colt turned from the hearth and blinked at him, then he took Owen's hands and smoothed his thumbs over each of his fingers. "You're not cursed. You never were. The Legion lied to you." He pulled Owen forward and pressed their foreheads together. "You have to live in the moment. I know that's hard to grasp. But right now, in this moment, we're both safe. I have you beside me, which is the only thing I want in this whole damn world. I can't explain it, or make sense of it. I just know that I'm… meant to be with you. And in this moment, right now, I have you, and that's what I'm gonna focus on. I know it's hard… but I want you to try and do the same. For yourself. Up here?" Colt tapped against his temple.

Owen nodded and hugged him. No one had ever come close to uttering such loving things, and Owen responded by squeezing him tighter in their embrace. "Thank you, Colt… for loving me."

When Colt kissed his neck, Owen let out a relieved laugh. Despite how he'd acted earlier, this man still accepted him, still loved him. The lemon of Colt's energy invaded him. It made his tongue water in a good way, as he loved the taste of lemon and its fragrance. Then the sweetness of honey swirled around him, intoxicating him.

"Always," Colt whispered.