3. Owen

Owen

"You are nothing without your Essence. Remember that as you fall into the void."

Owen jolted awake. His eyes found the wall of the hut, and he stared at it for a long time as he went over his dream. The same one as last time; of Rem holding the knife to Gilda's neck, about to kill her. Rem's words tumbled over and over in his mind, telling Gilda that she was nothing without her Essence. Owen knew it wasn't true. He had gotten to know Gilda as the kind, gentle, courageous woman that she was. She had been more than her Essence alone. But now she was gone, and there was nothing he could do to bring her back.

It should have been me .

Curling his fists in anger, Owen moved his arms and pushed himself up with a groan. Every muscle in his legs, arms, stomach, and back was sore.

He looked around for Colt, but found the room empty. His heart dropped, but when he felt the lemon and honey of Colt's energy right outside, he relaxed. He rubbed his face and got to his feet, then made his way to the doorway. Owen cut his eyes over to find the spear Colt had used yesterday sitting against the wall outside. Bringing up his left arm, he used his Essence to grab the spear and pulled it into his open palm. He closed his fingers around it, feeling the fibers running deep, down to the tiniest of insects crawling through the splinters and holes.

Feeling energy was so much a part of him now, it was as if the earth was alive, and as he turned his ear to it and listened deeply, he could hear it wailing. He glanced at the treetops, where the branches were bare of leaves and instead replaced with strange, fuzzy-looking brush that looked like giant green webs.

The emptiness of the Vale surrounded him, the silence sharpening the pain of his losses and failures. He'd put Brom and his men in Birchwood in danger, landing Brom in prison. He'd escaped Covehaven with guards left dead in his wake, only for Brom to go with him and be shot. And with Gilda, he'd spread the bonfire out to the tents and men of Harold's gang, killing many of them, only for Gilda to journey with him and die at the hands of a madman.

He had led his own companions right into a trap, on a path paved in blood.

When Colt came around the hut, holding his waterskin, he jumped slightly, then sighed and chuckled. "You scared me. I didn't know you were up."

"I haven't been up long," Owen responded.

Colt drew in and kissed his temple before gesturing to the door, and Owen went inside first, taking the waterskin and tipping it up for a drink.

His stomach was empty, and he still felt too sick to eat, but he managed a few pecans Colt gave him from the pouch on his belt. Owen looked down at the faint black residue on his palms from the fire he'd used yesterday to save Colt. After getting some sleep, he felt better rested and much stronger today. Perhaps enough to try and heal the wound in his chest .

"I noticed those smaller beasts don't like the wood," Colt told him as they sat against the wall and ate. "But those other things yesterday were different. They were bigger, looked blind, but they knew where I was. Guess they don't mind the trees."

"They felt different," Owen said, and when Colt glanced at him curiously, he went on, "Their energy. It didn't feel dark, like the shadow graugs. It felt gray, which is… neutral." He sighed and rubbed his tingling arm. "My wound hurts a lot. Yesterday, I talked with a spirit named Grutwyr. He taught me how to use my healing ability. Now that I'm feeling better, I can try it on this." He pushed his tunic back to look at the wound on his chest. The skin was swelling in places, and angry red streaks were starting to stretch out from the stitches. "I won't get out of here otherwise."

"You were able to heal yourself?" Colt's voice was full of excitement.

"Yes. Want to see?" When Colt gave a hesitant nod, Owen said, "Okay, I need you to take off my shirt for me. Then sit back while I figure this out."

Colt hesitated, but he did as Owen asked and helped him out of his shirt. Thankfully, he was able to ease out of the sleeves without much pain.

"You're sure about this?" Colt asked.

"Yes." Owen squeezed Colt's hand, then sat crossed-legged in the dirt. When the purple flame sparked in his left hand, Colt's eyes narrowed, as if he were unsure of what Owen was doing. Then Owen moved the fire to his wound and pressed a gentle hand against it.

His flame turned blue, and Owen hissed as it seemed to enter into his body, stinging the muscles and nerves of his chest and shoulder. The pain lasted only a few seconds, and then the flame swirled around his shoulder, arm, and chest, as if mending all the torn places on the outside. A cool sensation passed over him, and when the flame dissipated, Owen let out a breath and looked down, where only a scar remained on his skin.

When Owen lifted his right arm slowly, Colt blinked in amazement.

"You just… healed yourself." His brow perked up. "Just like that?"

Owen moved his arm in small circles and smiled through a wince. "It's not completely restored, but the pain is gone." He leaned back against the wall. "I feel drained now, like I could sleep until tomorrow. That's what Grutwyr told me would happen. That it would drain me, and depending on how much healing I do, I may have to rest more."

Colt scooted beside him. "That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen you do."

Their eyes connected, and Owen said, "I could try and heal you, if you have any injuries."

"No, I'm good." Colt put his hand up. "You should take it easy for a while before we leave this place, alright? Get some rest, then we'll see how you're feeling in an hour or two."

"Okay." Owen looked down and frowned.

"What's wrong?" Colt asked.

"I discovered this healing too late. I could have saved her…" His voice was steady, his eyes distant as he stared at something on the floor.

Colt squeezed Owen's hand. "Don't keep doing this to yourself. There's nothing any of us could have done. She was gone within seconds… We've both been through so much. Look at me, Owen—" When Owen peered up at him, Colt fixed him with his hazel eyes as he continued, "I haven't lost you, you haven't lost me. We will find Brom, and we'll get away from all of this. I promise."

As broken as Owen was, as maddening as this whole situation was, Owen hoped they would both get out of here alive. If only one of them made it, he wasn't sure if either of them would be able to find the strength to carry on alone.

Pushing his thoughts away, he glanced down at his new scar. The redness had gone away, but the skin was tight where his wound had been, and there was still a slight sting underneath. He wasn't sure what the knife had pierced inside his body. Agnes had told him the morning of Winter's Solstice that he was lucky it hadn't pierced his lung. She and his companions had marveled at how Owen was able to regain his energy so quickly.

It was baffling to him as well.

Perhaps it's my cursed blood. Or maybe I just heal faster overall.

Regardless, something stirred in Owen's bones at the mention of Brom, a will to right his wrongs. Their friend was still out there, possibly alive. Colt was right when he'd said they couldn't let him down. They had to find him. But they weren't the only two leaving this place. Owen knew Rem sought Mordren, and if Mordren was planning to leave the Vale and come into the land of the living with an army, as Grutwyr implied, then there was more here to think about than trying to find Brom.

The channels Meg mentioned, about wanting Owen to save the Vale, about someone needing to defeat Mordren, the whispers in the graveyard; all of it suddenly hit him.

"Colt…" he started, but fell silent under the weight of his discovery.

"What is it?" Colt craned his head to listen .

Owen drew in a big breath and said, "Grutwyr and Meg told me the channels of the dead were closed off by Mordren. Meg mentioned me saving the Vale, and when I saw some headstones earlier, I heard whispers of people telling me to save them, to open the channels."

"Channels?" Colt looked at him quizzically.

"It's like rivers where souls go after death. Either to the Firmament, where they live on, or into eternal slumber. Mordren closed them off long ago. Now I'm expected to somehow open them."

"Owen…" Colt let out a heavy sigh and leaned back. "It's not your responsibility to save this place."

"It's not about just saving this place, Colt. Grutwyr also told me that Mordren has been building an army for centuries to ravage the world. I know Rem came here for that reason. So, we have to find… a way to stop Mordren from coming into our world."

"No, no, no—" Colt got to his feet and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All we need to do is get out of here."

"And then what? I opened the Gate. Mordren must intend to go through it and wreak havoc in the living world."

"Owen, you've barely had time to use your Essence." Colt half-laughed, shaking his head. "What, about three months? And you think that's enough to go up against someone who's had centuries to perfect his own?"

Owen conceded with a nod, but said, "I can hone my skills."

Colt looked at Owen closely and raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "We have no idea what Mordren will do. Besides that, he's a god . How are you supposed to defeat a god? "

"Grutwyr called my blood divine. It's something the spirits of the Vale desire. If Mordren is a god, and I'm his kin, that means I hold the same power in my veins to destroy him."

"This isn't some faerie tale, Owen. How do you know these spirits aren't just lying to you?"

Owen drew in an angry breath and got to his feet. "It doesn't matter if they are. I opened that damn door, so I have to be the one to take care of whatever comes out of it. This is my responsibility!" Owen's voice was rising as he poured all of his heated frustration out on Colt.

"Then close the Gate instead." When Owen turned away and curled his fists in anger, Colt stepped toward him. "Owen… we'll find the dagger. It must still be on the outside, and you can just lock it. That's all."

"Colt, I can't keep running from this. I've hidden away from the Legion my whole life. I've run from Elian, from Rem, I've endured spirits talking to me, I've put everyone's lives in danger, and now this…" He shook his head. "I have to face him. I can't simply close the door and lock it, just for this to all happen again and place the burden on another Shadowborn out there."

Colt lowered his head to look at him. When Owen wouldn't meet his gaze, Colt took his cheeks in his hands, and Owen had no choice but to look upon his concerned face. "This god killed his own sister, a goddess. It took a swarm of Astrans to lock him up, and you want to face him?"

Owen frowned at Colt, his eyes thin slits, and said, "I'm done running. I'm done hiding. I won't run from this. Not anymore. I'm the scout, and the decisions rest with me. "

Colt raised an eyebrow. "We never agreed that you made all the decisions."

"This one is mine to make. "

At that, Colt blinked and moved away. He stood with his hands on his hips for a long moment, looking out the open door. Owen knew he was worried, not for the fate of the world, but for Owen. The man cared about him deeply, he could feel it in the way the honey flowed around him.

Finally, Colt relaxed and said, "I will support… whatever it is you feel you should do. But under one condition." He raised his finger.

Owen raised his chin, waiting for him to go on.

"I'll be helping you every step of the way."

A faint smile formed on Owen's lips. "Thank you. Now…" he sighed. "We just need to figure out how to kill a god."

After an hour, Owen felt rested enough to leave the hut. As Colt filled his waterskin at the well, Owen pulled the hood of his coat over his head. His arm still didn't feel fully restored, but most of his pain had gone, and now he would be able to better endure whatever lay before them.

"You're good to use your Essence?" Colt asked. When Owen nodded, he continued, "I hate you don't have your dagger. Remember when those spirits went into it?"

"I have a feeling it'll take more than a glowing piece of emberstone to ward the things in here away…" Owen clenched his teeth, feeling resentful toward a weapon . No, the blade itself hadn't ended Gilda's life, but Rem had still used it to kill her. For that, he never wanted to hold it again, but he knew it was the key to closing the Gate. If he managed to destroy Mordren, the portal would have to be locked again. He only hoped the blade was still near the Gate.

Then he thought of the riddle Grutwyr had mentioned.

"Grutwyr told me that Mordren made it so the spirits here can't tell me how to defeat him," Owen whispered. "He mentioned a riddle to help. ‘Seek the burning embers. They will shatter the heart and halt the three made whole.' I'm not sure what any of it means."

"Hmm…" Colt stared at the dirt, thinking. "Three made whole." Sighing, he said, "I'm not sure, Owen, but we'll figure it out. Now, which way leads out of here?"

"Um…" Owen thought for a moment before he said, "Grutwyr told me the Gate is on a cliff. We'll need to go back to the field first."

Colt raised an eyebrow. "A cliff?" When Owen nodded, Colt gestured out with his hand, "Alright, you want to lead the—"

A rumble shook the ground beneath them, cutting Colt off. Owen grabbed hold of the well to steady himself as he glanced around. The air suddenly felt heavy, as if something dark filled the spaces between the trees. He looked up at Colt, matching his wide-eyed expression. When part of the well gave way, Owen jumped back and watched as the stones fell down into the hole.

When the ground stilled, the Vale dimmed. The green hues of the trees slowly faded to a dull gray that made the area look as if the sun was setting, if there was a sun in this place. Owen's heart raced, and he blew out a few slow breaths to calm it.

Colt placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"It feels so heavy in here now. I can't explain it."

When Colt suddenly pulled him away, Owen looked up, startled, to find dozens of spirits drifting past them. Many appeared from within the trees or came up through the ground. Others came in groups, translucent figures with shrouded faces or those who looked similar to Meg. Some of them drifted without hesitation, while others tried to go back to where they came from.

"Where are they going?" Colt asked, trying to move out of their way.

"I don't know," Owen whispered.

"The dormant one is calling us."

They both looked back to find Meg, who was moving slowly toward the tree line. Owen gestured for Colt to follow along with her.

"What does he want with you?" Owen asked.

Meg looked straight ahead as she drifted. "Those of us in the forest were safe for so long. We hid from the monsters he created, and the dormant one left us alone. Now it is time for us to serve him. It is unavoidable." She turned her face to Owen. "He calls for us. We hear him in our minds."

Owen let out a breath and stood in front of her to stop her, but Meg drifted right through him, and the encounter left him feeling strange. When he caught Colt's grim expression, he knew.

"There's nothing we can do, Owen," Colt told him.

The heaviness of the air invaded his mind like a thick blanket soaked with water. It pressed down on him, crushing him. Shaking his head, Owen turned on his heel and searched for Meg, but she was already far ahead. He saw her turn and wave to him before she made her way out into the field beyond the trees.

"They're headed for the field." Owen trudged forward, picking up his pace as he followed the spirits, with Colt close on his heels. As they neared the edge of the forest, they stopped short and peered out at the field. When Owen looked up, his body tensed, and his heart dropped into his stomach .

Hovering several feet in the air were what must have been hundreds of dark spirits wearing cloaks of black or brown. Owen couldn't get a count of them, as they seemed to be everywhere, though spaced apart in the open, as if watching those who entered the field. They reminded Owen of the spirits who chased them on the road in Milarc, the ones who had dispersed into the dagger.

Owen's heart found an anxious rhythm as he took Colt's hand and led the way forward. He could sense his companion's fear, especially when they passed beneath one of the cloaked spirits. When he saw Colt raise his spear, Owen glanced over at him and shook his head.

They couldn't chance fighting or using Essence here. There were too many spirits, and interrupting one could end up catching the attention of them all. Instead, Owen kept a steady pace forward, hoping they were mixing in with the other spirits drifting out from the forest.

As they cleared the cloaked entities, something moved in Owen's peripheral vision. A tall spirit garbed in gray with bony hands and white eyes peered at them from behind a giant boulder. It emerged into the field just as another similar creature appeared.

Fear prickled Owen's senses. He knew what they were. He had seen the Wispmen drawings many times in Creatures of the North. At one point, Owen had been fascinated with reading about such a creature, but now these beings were here, real, watching them and coming closer. It was much different when they weren't safely tucked inside his imagination.

"What is it, Owen?" Colt whispered.

"They're like strange masses of energy," Owen replied. "I can feel it. Colt!" he shouted as one of the spirits moved closer .

It cut the distance between itself and Colt quickly, but Colt thrust his spear forward, puncturing it. Much to Owen's surprise, the figure stepped back, stunned.

Owen focused on the next Wispman coming his way. Heat flowed through his body and down his arm before fire erupted in his hand. He allowed his Dark Flame to swirl around the Wispman, and the being wailed as the fire consumed it.

"On your left!" Colt shouted.

Turning, Owen faced a tall mass of gray. He brought up his hands and blasted it to the ground with a powerful, unseen force. The creature writhed on the ground, cowering. Anger heated Owen's veins, and he looked upon the spirit with a hatred he'd felt when he'd nearly killed Quinnby Kingsland, and then again when he'd finished the man off. He stepped up to the spirit and glared at it. His fire burned brighter in his hand this time, the heat from it so intense that Colt drew away.

Something caught hold of Owen's heart, as if it clicked with him finally that his power was meant to be used in this manner. To defeat vile spirits like this. Holding up his left hand, a ball of violet fire erupted from Owen's palm. The flames engulfed the shadow on the ground, and it gave a high-pitched cry until it was nothing more than ash floating through the air.

Breathless, Owen turned to Colt, only to see another Wispman reaching out with long, thin fingers toward him from behind. Right as it touched Colt, he stumbled back and sank to his knees.

Owen shot the entity down with a ball of flame and helped Colt back to his feet. Seething, Owen held his right arm, which was still tender. "Did it weaken you?" When Colt nodded, Owen let out a heavy breath. "They're Wispmen. A single touch can make you weak. "

Colt peered around, panting. "Alright… another Creature of the North?"

"Yes," Owen rasped, wincing.

"You're overdoing it." Colt got to his feet. "Let me help."

"I'm fine."

Colt came closer. "You shouldn't use your fire again."

"I said I'm fine!" Huffing angrily, Owen brushed past him and continued on. What was wrong with him? He'd lashed out at Colt, and now he instantly regretted it. This place was making him feel frustrated with every step he took.

The sky continued to grow darker. Hadn't it been night only a few hours ago? But there was nowhere for them to rest in this wide field full of drifting spirits. They'd have to keep on. That's when Owen realized there was a drop-off in the distance, and beyond it, he could see the dark spires of a castle jutting up into the sky. He placed his hand on Colt's arm to slow his steps, and Colt glanced at him before following his stare.

As they came to the rise above the castle, Owen looked down to find a steep pathway leading to what appeared to be a postern gate. Fog drifted across the battlements, and dark clouds enriched with hues of maroon swirled in the sky.

"That's it," Owen whispered. "That's where Mordren is."

They crouched low and looked around cautiously, as if Mordren himself might appear at any moment. The spirits continued making their way to the castle from every direction. Some of them floated down the rocky slopes next to them, while others came from the direction beyond the castle.

"This is where Rem and I landed when we fell through the Gate." Owen fixed his eyes on the castle. "He told me I have a greater purpose, that he wants to be my mentor." He turned to look at Colt. "He has to be in there. "

"Alright, so we know Rem is insane," Colt pointed out, then said, "But you can't just go in there after Mordren."

"Even if it means ending him?" When Colt glanced away, Owen looked back at the castle, past the spires and to a cliff far in the distance. He narrowed his eyes, barely able to make out the familiar shape of the Gate in the distance.

He grabbed Colt's arm. "That's it, Colt! Look!"

Colt followed Owen's gaze. "I see it. That's our way out." He held out his hand, and Owen clasped it as they made their way down the slope.

Pebbles loosened beneath their boots as they went, making it harder to stay steady, and halfway down, Owen lost his balance and fell to one knee. Colt tried to help him up, but then he slipped. Both of them slid down the hill, finally stopping on level ground next to the ramparts. They rose quickly to their feet and stood quietly for a moment in the silence that followed their long, noisy descent.

A pile of rubble was stacked against the castle in an alcove next to the postern gate. Owen narrowed his eyes at it, noticing how low the wall was, and immediately began to climb.

"Owen, what are you doing?" Colt grabbed Owen by the back of his belt and jerked him back against himself, making Owen grunt.

Owen glared at him. "We need to see what's going on."

"No, we need to get to that Gate and get it closed." Colt gave him a stern look.

"Colt, we need to know what he's doing with all these spirits." When Owen moved forward, Colt let him go with a growl before picking his way up behind him .

When the rubble pile ended several feet from the top of the wall, Colt said, "I'm taller. I can jump up and pull you behind me."

Rather than argue with him, Owen let him do it his way. He'd already lashed out at him once. Colt scaled the wall with ease, grunting as his boots found the right places to climb. When he reached the top, he stilled for a moment and listened for any indication that they'd been seen. Then he straddled a low merlon between the battlements, hanging a leg down either side. He pointed to the leg nearest Owen. "Grab hold."

Owen jumped up and caught Colt's leg, then he used the wall to climb up with his feet. Once his shoulders were level with Colt's knees, Owen reached up to grasp Colt's hand. Colt easily tugged him to the top, where they fell ungracefully onto the deserted wall walk. They stayed low, peering into the castle bailey from the battlements.

Before them was a desolate courtyard. A pattern of stones embedded in the ground made up a strange-looking symbol that looked vaguely familiar. Weeds, water, and wind had weathered many of the stones, and several of the interior walls of the castle had collapsed. The castle was nothing more than a decrepit dwelling, and Owen was thankful it was in worse shape than it looked from the outside.

Perhaps from sitting here for centuries.

There were strange piles of something on the ground in various areas. Owen watched as the spirits stood within the courtyard around the lumpy piles. The sound of a door opened, and a tall, broad man with short black hair and dark eyes emerged into the open. He was garbed in black, with a tattered cloak billowing out behind him. Owen didn't need to feel the weight in his veins to know this was Mordren .

Behind him was Rem.

Owen ducked down further behind the wall, pulling Colt with him. They glanced at each other with wide eyes. When Owen heard a deep voice chanting strange words, he slowly looked back over the wall. Mordren lifted his arms; his dark, billowing sleeves hung below him. For a moment, Owen was reminded of the councilman Silas, whom Colt had killed after putting Owen through the Cleansing ritual in Covehaven.

But this man was no councilman. No, he was the Lord of the Unseen Vale, a god. He turned to Rem and held a small vial of something in his hand.

"You have done as I have asked," Mordren said, his words loud and bold, and Owen heard a familiarity in his deep voice. "You have freed me, but you have failed to bring me the Shadowborn. Still, there is time." He gave the vial to Rem. "Drink it all."

Rem seemed slightly hesitant, but he took the vial and downed whatever was inside. For a moment, Rem backed away, seeming out of sorts, as if he wasn't sure what was happening. Then the man stilled, taking a deep and slow breath before he reached out his hand. One of the piles in the courtyard was lifted abruptly and thrown so far, it hit the wall.

Owen held his breath. This man who had chased him throughout Avathon now held power . Just as Owen did himself.

Rem turned to Mordren and uttered something before bowing on one knee to him. The god of darkness grinned before he turned and spoke commands to the spirits in a tongue Owen had never heard. The spirits obeyed him by floating toward the piles around the courtyard.

That's when Owen realized what the piles were, and he stiffened .

They're bodies.

As soon as the spirits disappeared into what now looked like carcasses, the bodies suddenly moved and began sitting up. One by one, they got to their feet. Some of them were small, others big and muscular. But all of them looked like monsters, something out of a nightmare. They weren't people. They were something else. Something terrifying.

Colt grabbed Owen's arm and whispered, "We have to go!"

The ground suddenly rumbled, and Owen clung to Colt, hoping the wall of the castle wouldn't come crashing down. A crack split the ground in the courtyard, running all the way from Mordren to where Owen and Colt sat. A few seconds later, Owen looked out at the courtyard to see the god's hands reaching toward the ground, his fingers splayed out.

His heart beat ferociously. His breaths came out short and quick.

Mordren looked up in Owen's direction, and when their eyes met, the god smiled. And then that heaviness he'd been feeling since he'd come into the Vale threw open the doors of his mind, and a voice spoke to him loud and clear.

"Welcome, Shadowborn."