26. Owen

Owen

Owen's cell was damp and cold. There were no windows, only smooth stone walls that glittered in the light from a single candle on the floor. There were no furnishings except for the straw bed Owen lay on. He looked beside him at a wooden plate full of food. Where was he?

He groaned as he sat up, and he put a hand to his head. He vaguely remembered coming into this place, or rather being carried in. He'd put up a struggle at some point after leaving the fort with Mordren, his mind clearing enough for him to realize what had happened. But then his mind returned to that red haze again, where he wasn't himself. Where wicked thoughts swirled in his mind, and it felt as if he was walking in a nightmare, obeying Mordren's every command. Then he had dreamed awful things that felt so real, he was convinced they were until he woke up.

He swallowed hard, and that's when he felt the strange metal around his neck. He touched it with his fingers, cool and smooth, then looked down to find it glowing dimly. He gasped as he realized it was emberstone. He pulled at it to try and get it off. He could find no clasp or chain. Only a few places where some sort of metal casings were fused into the crystal. It wasn't heavy, but it wasn't comfortable, and it made him feel weak, as if the energy in his body was depleted .

Owen grasped a thick blanket over his legs and opened his mind to Colt's energy. He was surprised to find he couldn't sense anything at all, and he tried again and again, to no avail.

Outside the stone room, footsteps neared. Owen froze, gripping the blanket tightly around him as he waited. When the door opened, Mordren appeared, his body filling the entirety of the doorway. The god leaned down to step through, then closed the door behind him.

Owen went rigid and stared at him, craning his head back to meet his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Mordren asked, his voice deep. He looked upon Owen as if he was nothing more than an insect. When Owen said nothing, Mordren tilted his head. "After all the talks we've had, you're going silent on me?"

Owen swallowed hard. "What… talks?" His voice was hoarse. He wasn't sure why. Had he screamed at the man to let him go? Possibly.

"You mean you don't recognize me? Or should I put on a dark cloak and mask and make myself appear as the shadow man, as you so-called me?"

When Owen's eyes widened, Mordren seemed amused.

"This whole time…" Owen said, then he cleared his throat. "You—you spoke to me in Milarc. This whole time you knew… you followed me."

Mordren's eyes cut to him, and Owen grimaced. "Of all the Shadowborns I've come into contact with over the centuries, you took to me the most."

Owen looked away, and when he shifted on his left arm, he gasped at the pain in his wrist. He clasped it against his chest as pain surged through him, as the pieces all fit together in his mind. "You tricked me. You… told me the Hunters wouldn't pursue me in Vanhelm. But you meant for me to go there. To get me close to the Gate."

For a long moment, Mordren only stared at Owen from the shadows of the cold cell. But then the god took a step forward. Owen moved back, plastering himself against the wall as the god bent down before him. In the candlelight, Owen made out the sharp contours of his jaw and clean-shaven face. His eyes were strange, a mixture of red and amber hues shining in the dim light.

"Humans are incredibly flawed," Mordren said. "Take your arm, for instance." He cast his eyes down, and when he took Owen's left arm, Owen reared back, afraid of what he might do.

Mordren held Owen's wrist between his own calloused hands. He pressed lightly on it, and a blue flame appeared, swirling around him, soothing him. When it was gone, the pain in his wrist and arm was no more.

Mordren had healed him with his Dark Flame.

"When you used my dagger, I knew where to find you," Mordren said. "I've needed a Shadowborn for some time now. The spirits that linger outside my Vale offer me a pathway to the outside world. Even if I couldn't touch it in this physical form, at least I could use wandering souls to speak with you."

Owen leaned his head against the wall, but he didn't look away. He didn't dare remove his gaze from this dark god.

"You were so vulnerable, Owen." Mordren's eyes focused on him intently. "You needed me, and I needed you."

"You used me," Owen whispered.

"It wasn't in vain." Mordren smiled.

Owen's blood simmered at being used by this god. "What do you want with me? To help you destroy the world? "

Mordren laughed. "Nothing so mundane, little Shadowborn. I have something else in mind, something far more important."

"What do you want?"

"Since the moment I was breathed into existence, I wanted to belong." Something in Mordren's face hardened. "I wanted a family, to be part of something great." He stood and paced back and forth inside Owen's cell. "Instead, I was sent to watch over the dead. Alone. Forgotten. Taken for granted." He turned to face Owen and asked with a cruel smile, "I suppose you know a thing or two about being alone. Don't you?"

Owen swallowed against the emberstone collar around his neck.

Mordren leaned in close to Owen, making him stiffen and hold his breath. "It's emberstone. It prevents you from being able to use your Essence."

"How?"

"I had it shaped to go around your neck and forged together while you were… compliant."

"But the dagger has emberstone in it, and I was able to use it—"

"You were never under the spell of the dagger itself, were you?" Mordren sounded impatient. "No one ever used it against you. You were its wielder, on the other end. No better than a simple Core Wielder," he spat. "You never realized the power you held in that dagger. You never realized how you could weaken another Astran's power with it, or a Wielder's. Or that you were capable of…" Mordren's eyes widened with realization, and then he tilted his head and smiled. "Ah, but you do know. It's why you had that makeshift knife created. A weak attempt for a human to try and destroy a god. "

When Mordren moved away, Owen let out a breath and looked down. He thought back to all the times he'd wielded the dagger. It hadn't been many, but the one instance that came to mind was when he pulled the blade out and pointed it at Elian. Then, the Wielder's Core had flown right onto the tip of the metal. Then there were the Horwolves, undead wolves with Cores buried inside them, which he also destroyed with the dagger. The weapon had also absorbed the entities on the road to Covehaven. After he became adept at using his Essence, Owen had seldom used the dagger, but he recalled now that when he touched the blade with his fingers, he'd felt weak. Much like how he did now.

The emberstone was repelling his Essence somehow. He could feel his Essence stirring deep within him, but he couldn't let it out. It was no wonder that, when he touched the emberstone from the cave near Bridge's house, he'd felt weakened then, too. But any time he gripped the dagger by the hilt and used it, it hadn't affected him.

Mordren narrowed his eyes, as if he could see through all of Owen's thoughts and fears, then he frowned and got to his feet, his shadow falling over him. "I don't have time to watch over you. I have a whole city to prepare."

Owen's heart started. "Prepare for what?"

"You will know soon enough." Mordren walked to the door, and when he opened it, he looked back at Owen. "Your Essence is useless now, and you won't get far without it. No one will be coming for you. This citadel is an impenetrable fortress."

The citadel… I'm in the citadel! In Luthien!

"Should you step out of line, I can give you more of this." He held up a small clear vial with something red inside, and Owen narrowed his eyes on it. "Those who go into the red haze often crave more. I will be careful in administering this, but if you give me reason to, I will do so. Don't forget that you are my kin, Owen. You belong to me, and without me, you are nothing ."

Owen blinked at him, and tears collected in his eyes. Then the door slammed shut, and when it locked, Owen let out a ragged breath. When he closed his eyes, tears spilled down his cheeks. He'd been such a fool. The demon god himself had been on his shoulder throughout his journey, guiding him into this nightmare, and Owen had let it happen. He had trusted an unknown spirit and had unknowingly invited Mordren into his mind.

He cried silently at first, but soon the sobs choked him, and he muffled his angry screams with the blanket. His heart ached for Colt and Brom. He wished death would emerge into the room to take him to the Unseen Vale, letting him pass through to eternal darkness. He would choose slumbering in the darkness over absorbing the pain and loneliness he felt now.

"Colt," he whimpered. "Brom… Amias…"

The three people he loved most in the world were no longer with him. He no longer knew if they were alive, as he couldn't feel their life energy. The energy around him was nonexistent, as if he'd been cut off from the rest of the world, completely isolated in his tiny cell in the citadel. Even his hands tingled with a numbness that went all the way to his chest.

Colt and Brom had to be alive. He had seen part of the roof crashing down in the fort, and Owen had used his Essence to angle it so that it didn't crush Colt. He had to be alive. Owen knew it… But still, his body shook with worry that twisted his bowels and made him want to vomit. He leaned over on the floor, crying so hard, his nose clogged and his head ached more .

Alenar, help me…

But the god of life did not respond. He would never respond, as such a god was gone, and in place of him was something darker, something that would kill him, possibly others. And it was all his fault.

When the door unlocked again, Owen backed against the wall instinctively. What would Mordren do this time? Give him more of his blood to drink?

But it wasn't Mordren. Instead, when the door scraped open and light spilled into the room, Owen squinted. His heart dropped deep into his stomach, his eyes widening as he took in a familiar man. Tall, dark, and menacing, Rem stared at Owen from the doorway, his lips curving into a cruel smile.

"Hello, Owen."