3. Owen

When a voice screamed in Owen's dreams, it startled him awake, but he found himself unable to move, and for a moment, he thought he saw something dark above him, like a smudge passing through the air, screaming at him and pressing him down.

Then it disappeared, and he sat up with a gasp, his heart thumping wildly. Sweat matted his shirt to his chest, and he pulled at his collar as he looked around the house. Beside him, Colt was still asleep. On his other side, he found Brom and Gilda gone, as well as Clove.

Owen let out a breath as he thought of his dream again. He'd had nightmares before where he couldn't move, but he had never heard anything scream at him while such nightmares invaded his mind. There was a name for such a thing. In his folklore book, Creatures of the North, the Night Hag would visit someone in their dreams and sit on their chest. Owen wasn't sure if the entity existed or not, but Amias had told him many times that such a being was all in one's mind during sleep and nothing to be afraid of, so he told himself that's all it was.

The soft yellow light of dawn filtered through the window, and with it came a glow that reminded Owen of Emberton. Getting to his feet, Owen gazed out the murky window. Rather than seeing the town and the ocean in the distance, he saw only mountains. He rubbed the smooth surface of his shark tooth charm around his neck for comfort, as he usually did when thinking of his seaside home. When he saw smoke drifting outside, he craned his head to see Gilda and Brom cooking something over a fire.

Owen rocked back on his heels and glanced at Colt, who slept peacefully on his back, one arm over his stomach and the other up over his head. Owen outlined his lean arms and broad shoulders, his eyes traveling upward to his strong jaw full of dark hair, and up to the scar that ran across his left eyebrow. He imagined running his fingers through Colt's dark-blond hair, and his cheeks burned. His companion was handsome, and he always gave the energy and taste of lemon and honey, so strong that Owen sometimes became overpowered by it. At first, it was just the taste of lemon, but after they'd gotten close, the honey had seeped in.

He recounted first indulging in Colt's warmth back in Edgewater in Milarc. That night, they had cuddled close, and then the next day, they had disguised themselves to sneak out of the town. Owen recalled wearing a dress, acting as Colt's wife to blend in with others to escape from Elian's assistant, Rhielle. It felt like so long ago now, but it had only been a couple of weeks.

He was glad Gilda and Brom didn't question them cuddling so close.

They think we're close friends. They have no idea how we met. But it really shouldn't matter.

Colt's lips twitched in his sleep, and Owen's heart ached to kiss him again. It was more tempting since they were alone. To ward the longing away, Owen quietly changed his clothes, pulling on a pair of warm brown trousers and a white buttoned-up shirt, rolling up the sleeves to his elbows. Then he clamped the copper-colored clips of his suspenders to the waistband of his trousers and pulled on a faded brown vest.

With Colt still snoozing, Owen swiped a couple of green apples from his bag. Sitting crossed-legged on the pallet, he bit into one while he set the other in front of him. He focused on how the fruit curved around the bottom and imagined it resting in his palm. He pushed his Essence through his veins and lifted his arm. The apple rose from the floor and suspended in the air under his hold.

When it stayed in the air, spinning slowly, he turned his hand around and curled his fingers as if he was gripping it, then he swept his arm gently across his chest until the apple floated around the room.

He smiled, excited that he was able to move objects freely with his Essence now. Over a month ago, when he set out with Amias and Colt from Emberton, he'd hardly ever used his Essence for anything but sensing the energies of people and animals around him. Now, he used the forbidden power inside him to move things easily. He'd been shaky at first, awkward and a bit timid, but ever since the Cleansing ritual Elian had put him through, it felt as if something had unlocked the power within him, and he now understood it well enough to use it freely.

He found when he was angry, his Essence flowed out easier, but when he was calm as he was now, the power was easier to control. He could feel the surge of it through his veins, as a liquid he imagined looked golden.

When Colt stirred awake, Owen moved his hand so that the apple flew back into it, and he held it out to Colt as he sat up.

"Oh, thanks." Colt smiled sleepily. "Morning." He kissed Owen's cheek, and Owen smiled, savoring his affection.

As Colt drew out his pocket knife to slice the apple, the door opened, and Brom walked in with two bowls in his hands.

"Would you two rather eat apples, or this?" He handed them oatmeal, with what looked like brown sugar and honey sprinkled over the top.

"Where did you find brown sugar and honey?" Owen asked.

Brom raised his brows. "At the inn we left a couple days ago."

Owen took a slice of apple from Colt, dipped it in the oatmeal, and ate it. When the warm, sweet, gooey taste hit his tongue, Owen hummed with delight. "It's very good." He took up his spoon and took a big bite.

Colt lapped up a few bites with his spoon, then nodded. "Yeah, not bad. Nice to have our own personal cook along." He put his thumb up before taking in another big mouthful.

Brom beamed at them both, his grin spreading wide.

"Don't be surprised if he spends all his money on food and spices now," came Gilda's voice as she walked inside. "You're feeding more than yourselves talking that way."

"But you obviously liked it." Brom took her empty bowl. "I saw you scraping the sides of the bowl."

"Anything tastes good when you're starving." She scoffed at him, saying nothing more as she packed her things.

When they finished their breakfast, they made their way outside and continued their trek southeast, toward Ivormor.

"Has anyone seen Clove this morning?" Owen asked.

"Clove?" Brom squinted in the sun as he led them to a dirt road up ahead. "Is that what you're naming the dog?"

"I'm certain she's at least part wolf, but yes." Owen smiled.

"She woke me up whining to get out," Gilda broke in. "As soon as I opened the door, she bolted."

"Maybe she was just hungry," Owen guessed. He knew Clove would be able to find them again, but he still looked around for her as they traveled. With the wind calmer today, Owen's body warmed from the strenuous walk. "Think we can make it to Ivormor by afternoon?"

"Maybe noon," Brom said.

"Depends on how quickly you walk," Colt muttered. "No breaks and little rest, we can come to it in a couple hours."

"Well, now, I have to have my rest," Brom retorted. "And a break to eat."

"That seems to be all you do is eat."

Owen smirked. "Colt can't say anything. He's always eating something."

Colt peered at him and ruffled his hair, and Owen pushed him off playfully.

"Hm, well, if you all happen to run out of food from overeating before we reach Ivormor, don't expect to get any from me," Gilda said.

Brom came up beside her. "I wouldn't dare take food from a woman. I'd like to keep my manhood, thank you."

Gilda laughed. "I doubt you'd have much to lose."

Chuckling, Brom looked at her sidelong, his mouth curling into a smile. "And what would a ‘lady' as yourself know of my manhood?"

Gilda shrugged and glanced at him. "I've seen it before. Not much to look at. And by the way, don't call me lady."

Brom's brow wrinkled. "The fact you looked at all is flattering."

"When you're surrounded by men who walk around naked after a night of drinking, it's hard not to notice. I considered gouging my eyes out many times at Harold's camp."

When Owen and Colt broke out in laughter, Brom scowled at them.

Colt nudged Owen and said, "We should start tallying up who wins their arguments. I've got Gilda, you can keep up with Brom."

"Now that's not fair. He never wins against her." Owen nudged him with his elbow.

It took them three more hours to get to the main road that led straight into Ivormor, where a sign pointed to their destination. Wagons full of produce and carriages of people crowded the path. A unit of Rookhold guards rode by on horses, bearing the crest of a silver bear on their green chest plates. On the side of the road, a few stables and vendors were set up. In the distance, Ivormor stood tall and wide, its gray walls towering around the town.

They split up as they went in, Gilda going with Brom and Owen staying with Colt, feeling it best in case word had spread of their escape from Milarc. By the time they reached the town's square, gray clouds swept in, and it sprinkled lightly.

Thank Alenar we made it before it started raining too hard.

Ivormor was a bustling town full of all kinds of people, some of who were well-dressed, while others looked more like Owen's own group—dirty rogues with grubby faces and greasy hair. Owen kept his hood up and his scarf over his mouth to conceal himself as he walked.

The roofs of buildings jutted out on either side of the street, creating a canopy of shadows. The streets were downtrodden, and the cobblestones that made up the roads were broken in many places. The merchants looked no better, as many of them in the square looked unhappy to be there.

Down one of the streets, Owen noticed a small building with the words Ivormor Library, and something in his chest ignited with hope.

Perhaps I can find a map of Avathon in there. It would be good to have one, since I don't even know where Pitchvale is.

As they walked along, they passed beneath a balcony, where a group of women lounged in red gowns talking and twirling their hair. Two men leaned over the railing, both of them wearing loose, silky shirts, one of them flirting with a man on the ground. Green vines supporting huge red roses hung from the rails off the large stone building.

Owen cocked his head as he read the sign hanging above the door. "Crimson Petal."

"Want to visit?" Colt said with a wink.

"No!" Owen looked away, and Colt chuckled, nudging him in jest.

Owen had seen brothels in Milarc before, but there seemed to be so much activity around this one, even in the daytime. It was fascinating, and as they walked away, Owen found himself looking back at the building, his curiosity piquing.

The Copper Tooth Inn was nestled on a street to the right of the main square, not far from the brothel. Though it housed many rooms, there were few available. After meeting up with Gilda and Brom, they pooled their money between them and rented a room for one night to finally rest and restock their provisions. When they came upstairs to their lodging, they found it sizable enough, though the beds were scarce.

"Oh joy, two beds," Gilda muttered. "You three can take that one. I'll take the left."

They all looked at her.

"What?" she asked.

"If you think I'm sleeping with Brom, you can keep dreaming," Colt said, dropping his bag at the foot of the bed closest to the door.

"I've been known to expel a lot of wind through the night, if you catch my drift." Brom placed a hand on his stomach. "So there's no doubt I should sleep alone."

Colt popped his back. "Right, on second thought, maybe you and Gilda should sleep in the other. I'd love to see what she'd do if you stink up the sheets."

"I'd throw him out the window. That's after I'd bash his head in with one of his frying pans." Gilda sat on the other bed, claiming it.

"Ouch." Brom winced. "Passing wind is hardly an excuse to hurt someone."

"It is if you wake me up with it."

"Don't worry, Gilda," Owen said. "They can both sleep on the floor instead, and we'll just take the beds."

Gilda held her chin up. "The sensible one is right."

Colt rolled his shoulders. "Gods, it's good to not be carrying something. I could use a massage."

"You may find that sort of help at the brothel," Gilda stated, taking her clothes out of her bag.

"I meant a shoulder rub."

"I saw a library," Owen piped up, grinning. "I was hoping I could find a map of Avathon in there. Does anyone want to visit?"

Colt furrowed his brow as he looked at him. "A library?"

"Yes." Owen twiddled his thumbs. "Do you want to go?"

"Uh, right, of course. I'll go." Colt smiled and put his hand out for the door.

"While you both do that, Brom and I will look into restocking provisions." Gilda sniffed and crossed her arms.

"We will?" Brom asked. "Alright, I guess I'm going with her, then."

Ivormor's library was small, but it housed a copious collection of books. The owner had spilled its whole history when they arrived, saying he had built the place himself and had collected all the books on his travels over the span of decades. Shelves lined every wall and space in between the narrow aisles, while a few tables sat wedged against the furthest walls, leaving little room to walk. The windows filtered in the dreary afternoon light, and in the orange glow of several lanterns on the tables, dust floated around Owen and Colt as they walked. Stacks of books had been left on some of the tables, and there were even some situated neatly in the corners of the room.

Owen went for the section marked "fables and lore" and browsed through the titles in awe. He glanced at a book called Ghouls: A Guide and smirked, wondering if it would have been a useful book to read before encountering the ghoulish Geesh in the caves of Milarc. Others caught his eye, such as So You Want to Meet A Sea Nymph and Seelik Bastards and Rockmen, Treemen,and other Vermin.

Colt came up behind him, hands in his pockets, and smiled. "You're like a child at Winter's Solstice who's gotten hold of the festive treats."

Owen looked up from a book he was holding and asked, "Is that a problem?"

Colt shook his head. "No." He nodded at the book. "You gonna read that one?"

"Yes. This one." Owen looked up at another one titled Gods of Lore and stacked it on top. "And this one. As well as this." He plopped the rest of them into Colt's hands, and Colt grunted as he took them.

"Well, is that all?" Colt asked.

Owen smiled at him, then he made his way out of the aisle and to a small table in the corner.

"Right here?" Colt asked, coming up beside him with the books in his arms.

"Yes." Owen glanced at him. "Unless you want to sit on the fl—" He grunted as Colt maneuvered around him, rubbing against him and pushing him into the table as he moved past. Owen's eyes widened, his lips twitching at the brief feel of Colt against him. The moment was gone too soon.

"Sorry," Colt said, clearing his throat as he placed the books on the table, a trace of a smile on his lips.

Owen sat in one of the chairs beside him, and it creaked beneath his weight. Sighing, Owen propped his elbow on the table and hid his face with his hand, hoping Colt didn't notice his burning cheeks.

The sound of rain caught Owen's attention, and he cut his eyes up at the window as the raindrops slid down the pane. It was a good distraction and calmed him instantly.

"I love reading on rainy days," he said.

"Yeah?" Colt looked around. "It's quiet in here."

"Haven't you ever been to a library?"

Colt looked up for a moment, then shook his head. "Actually, I don't think I have."

"Oh, you poor soul."

"Hey, I grew up in gambling houses, alright?"

Owen's expression softened. "I understand."

"I've read books before. I'm just slow in doing so. I can't read as good as most folks." Colt shrugged. "I didn't pay much attention in school. I know letters, basic words. But give me a book like you're reading now with big words, and I give up before I get too far." He put his hand under the table and grabbed Owen's hand.

Owen looked up as he curled his fingers around Colt's. This man took every opportunity he could to touch him, even in front of the others. His appearance was rugged, with a full beard and unkempt hair that he'd tried to tame with his fingers that morning. His hazel eyes regarded him softly, and Owen was startled again at how handsome he was.

When thunder rumbled low, Owen stared out the windows, feeling peaceful. "Okay, well, let"s look through these books and see if we can find a map of Avathon that can help us get to Pitchvale."

If they were going to voyage the open road of Avathon, he wanted to have a good sense of the country. A Brief History of Avathon gave him information about the regions: Rookhold was where they were now, in the northernmost part of Avathon; Stonemor was the enormous region to the west; Calwick dominated the eastern part of the country; and Acren took up most of the middle. Vanhelm was the last region to the south, where rumor had it people lived only along the river that divided Acren from Vanhelm. It didn't take him long to find Ivormor on the northern part of the map, and then, finally, Pitchvale. It wasn't too far from Ivormor, perhaps a few days' walk.

This was good news.

The next book he looked over was The Battle at Thorn Hill, which told of the struggle between the Legion and the Alliance twenty-one years ago. The battle took place in the southern region of Acren, just south of Luthien. Alliance rebels clashed with Legion soldiers and Core Wielders, only to be beaten back. Owen winced as he looked down at the book and ran his thumb over a drawing of a Legion soldier running his sword through an Alliance member.

The Alliance was a rebel group that had been around for centuries. They took in Astrans and fought for their rights to live with their Essence, and in one day, they had been eradicated. Owen was sure some rebels remained, but after the battle, there hadn't been any mention of them.

Just shows how much control the Legion has. They"re too powerful.

He glanced over at Avathonian Folktales and opened it. From the way the language was written, it seemed ancient. The pages were frail, and some of the words had smudged and run together. The drawings, though beautiful, had smeared in places. It reminded him of his mother's folklore book, Creatures of the North. He knew every smudge and crease in that book by heart.

A few minutes went by in silence, with little more than the sound of turned pages and soft rain. Colt looked at the illustrations in another book, and somewhere, a clock ticked. When lightning flashed, Owen glanced up at the window. The dreary clouds reminded him of Emberton, where the sky was always gray and mist always hung in the air. He sorely missed his old coastal home and dreamed of it as he stared out the window, his chin propped against his hand.

Had none of this happened, if he hadn't been Astran, Owen wondered if Amias would have brought Colt to visit him eventually. Colt and Amias could have stayed the week, and Owen would have taken Colt fishing, perhaps shown him a few caves he and his best friend Hale had discovered. Then he imagined how it might have been to have Colt in his home with him, watching the sun set over the horizon of the ocean as they both sat on his porch, and then that night they would both lay down to sleep together…

His chest ached with longing and loss. This was what he wanted more than anything. To be able to spend time with Colt without worrying about the Legion catching them. He just wanted a normal life where he could fall asleep without someone keeping watch, to walk down the street without worrying he'd be noticed.

I am never going to have that with him, am I? Not as long as I'm in this cursed body that the Legion wants dead.

"What an ugly-looking thing this is," Colt said.

Owen looked over sleepily, happy to be broken away from his daydream, and focused on the book Colt had open. An image of a four-legged creature with red eyes gazed back at him. Its fur was matted, with bits of its ears missing, and its snout was longer than any animal he'd seen before.

He looked beneath the drawing and read the caption ‘The Shadow Graug.'

"Amazing," Owen said. Then he read, "The Shadow Graug has been seen in Vanhelm. It eats any sort of flesh, but nothing that has been dead for over a few hours." His brows popped up.

He looked at a few drawings of other strange creatures. Most of them were animal-like, but a few looked like thin, frail men with twigs for arms and legs. It made his heart rush with fear and excitement. Then the illustrations turned to more human creatures, who looked ordinary on the outside but could shift their human form into something else. Eventually, the subject matter came to the gods.

Owen picked out a segment about them and read, "Alenar, giver of life, is our ultimate creator. His children, Aleana and Mordren, are the light and shadow of this world, for Aleana brought love and grace to humans, but Morden drove hatred and madness into them."

A drawing of what the artist thought Alenar looked like sprang out from the page. He looked strong and fierce, with piercing blue eyes. His daughter, Aleana, had long dark hair and curious amber eyes. Her brother, Mordren, stood tall and dark with a vile-looking face beneath a demonic helm with horns rising from the steel. There was another picture of Aleana with a caption beneath the drawing that read ‘Aleana, daughter of Astran energy.' A page followed the drawing, talking briefly about her bestowing the gift of Essence to the human race.

When Colt scooted closer, Owen could smell the earthiness of him, but also something else that was so intoxicating, it made certain places in Owen stir with want. Was it perfume?

"What else does it say?" Colt asked.

Owen drew away from Colt and focused on the book again. "The other gods allowed her to bestow a gift to the human race. When she did, the first Astran was born. Aleana parted a fragment of her power to mankind. She is often spoken of as the peace bringer. Nothing we don't already know."

Colt propped his arm up on the back of Owen's chair and leaned over his shoulder, then he slid his finger beneath the corner of the page and slowly peeled it away to reveal another drawing. The etching of a dark hooded creature came into view. It stood sideways, looking over its shoulder, but there were no eyes. Only blackness within its hood. Smoke-like tendrils curled around its body, eerily similar to the entity that had appeared and spoken to Owen as they traveled through Milarc.

"This is it…" Owen whispered.

Colt glanced at him. "What?"

"This looks like the entity I've been seeing. The shadow man."

"Shadow man?" Colt's brows furrowed. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"Well, it looks like a hooded man in the shadows."

"This is what you've been seeing?"

Owen nodded, then he read the words beneath the drawing and froze. "Entities are spirits that slink around in old-world spaces. Most are usually not dangerous, but some can have malevolent motives."

"What does malevolent mean?" Colt asked.

"It's… when someone intends to do harm to someone else, with an evil intent." Owen met Colt's eyes, and his companion stared back for a moment, a sudden seriousness crossing his features.

"Is that what this thing wants to do to you?"

Smiling, Owen said, "I don't think so, Colt. When I was…" He lowered his voice before continuing, "When Elian had me in that dungeon, this entity showed up there and told me to fight for my life. It was what drove me to unleash my power, otherwise, I might have died before you got there."

"Then… this spirit is helping you?"

"Yes, I think so, but I still need to tread carefully. I'm not sure why it wants to help me at all. It hasn't shown itself to me in days, but I'll keep alert."

"Maybe you should start telling me when you see and hear it?"

Nodding, Owen said, "Yes, I will." Looking back down at the book, Owen flipped the pages until he came to the end, where it spoke in more detail about Mordren. As he read about the evil god with whom he shared blood ties, Owen's heart beat faster.

"The god of the Unseen Vale is malicious," he read aloud. "He wields the Dark Flame, a purple fire that can incinerate anything, given the energy." Owen paused, reflecting on this. Amias had told him about the Dark Flame in Milarc, speaking of it as if it were a thing Shadowborns could summon as well, and now he was curious if he could. Looking back at the book, he continued, "He craves souls for his own, and so he indulges in sacrifices made to him. Each soul he devours makes him stronger, and should he gather many souls, he could…"

Owen turned the page to read the rest, but the last page was missing.

"He could what?" Colt asked.

"That's it. The page is ripped out."

"That's odd. What's all this about souls and sacrifice?"

Sighing, Owen shook his head and rubbed a hand down his face, feeling tired now. "I don't know, but it's a little unsettling."

Clearing his throat, Colt slammed the book closed. "That's enough of that book anyways."

"Did it scare you?" Owen furrowed his brow.

"No," Colt said defensively. "Just… too much talk about evil and shadows. We found what we needed. Let's take the map of Avathon with us."

"You mean take the book?"

"Just the page. Here, rip it out." Colt picked up the book that had the map of Avathon and went to tear it out, but Owen placed his hand over the page.

"This is a library book," he whispered.

Colt's scarred eyebrow perked up. "The damn bookkeeper won't miss it. I guarantee you that."

Owen cut his eyes to the bookkeeper, who sat at a desk beyond the narrow shelves. "What if he checks the books every night and realizes it's gone?"

They both looked over as the bookkeeper sneezed into a handkerchief and blew his nose so hard he wobbled on his stool.

"Fine, I'll take it," Owen sighed, "but I don't like it."

Colt smiled. "And that's why I like you."