31. Owen

Morning of Winter's Solstice in Vanhelm was the sunniest Owen had seen since coming into the region. He sat in the grass, sketching the goats behind the house, while Colt chopped wood nearby. Gilda carried a basket of eggs from the chicken coop, and goats bleated around Brom, who attempted to milk one of the females. Every time he pulled on one of the teats, one of the younger ones would come up and nudge him on the arm.

"Hey, now," Brom said. "Keep down."

Owen laughed. "And how do you expect to have your own café one day, Brom, if you can't even manage a pail of milk?"

Brom cocked his head up at him. "Farm work is hardly something to relate to running a café. Or perhaps Gilda can run the farm that will supply my café? That would work."

Gilda's face soured as if she'd just gotten hold of a rotten stench. "No, my dear, I'll be the one fighting off Legion monsters from our lands. Perhaps Owen and Colt can be your farmers."

Owen stifled a laugh with his hand. "I have no problem running a farm. Colt can get you some wild game, right, Colt?"

Colt glanced up and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Sure, we'll all chip in." He grunted as he swung the axe down on the log, then panted. "But I want a forty percent cut."

"Forty percent?" Brom shook his head as he managed to properly milk the goat. "Goodness, you seem to all have a plan already set in motion for my café."

"We're all dreaming big." Gilda held her chin high, but when she looked at Owen, she winked before going inside the house. From the beginning of their journey, Gilda and Brom had always seemed to clash, but lately their jabs felt more like friendly affections.

Owen smiled after Gilda and then looked at Colt swinging at another log with the axe. He was working hard in order to help Bridge and Agnes out, as thank you for all they had done for them. Owen felt useless, but Agnes insisted he relax and heal while they all prepared supper for Winter's Solstice.

He scanned the crest of the hill where the graveyard was and found Nel walking with a bow in her hand. When Owen reached out to sense her energy, he found the scent of fresh rain. She seemed every bit fit and able to watch over the graveyard. Owen envied her courage, as she seemed fearless.

When the door of the house opened and Bridge came out, Owen straightened his back and put down his journal.

"Morning." Bridge smiled at him.

"Same to you," Owen said.

"Your friends have been working hard."

Owen stood to his feet and brushed off his trousers. "I'd like to help with something too, if I can."

Bridge grinned and looked down. "Oh, no, you must concentrate on healing. I'm glad to see you out. It's unusually warm today. But since you have some free time, there's something I'd like to show you."

Owen glanced at his busy companions before nodding, and he followed Bridge as the man made his way down to the beach. They passed the hot spring cave and continued until they came to another cave opening nearby.

As Owen stepped inside, following Bridge down a dimly lit tunnel, he was briefly reminded of the feral Geesh in the caves in Milarc, and stopped short.

Bridge paused and turned to him. "What's wrong?"

Owen twiddled his thumbs. "It's just… the last time I stepped foot in a cave like this, I got attacked by deranged creatures who wanted to maul me."

A laugh echoed down the tunnel. "You don't have to worry about that here. I assure you, there are no deranged creatures. I want to show you something a few tunnels ahead, if you're up to it. We can take breaks if you need to. It's not very far, but I feel it's important."

"Alright." Owen was reluctant, but he went anyway.

Bridge went slowly, perhaps mindful of Owen's healing.

Owen narrowed his eyes as he saw shelves dug out of the walls, some holding bowls and cups, some of them broken on the floor. "Did someone live here before?"

"Back when we were a bigger group, we used this cave to hide."

"What group?"

"Well, you see…" Bridge stopped to let him catch his breath. "At one time, there were many people who lived in this cave. We called ourselves the Alliance."

Owen's mouth dropped, and he took a step back. "You were part of the Alliance?" When Bridge nodded, he raised his brows. "Where are they now?"

"Some of us branched off into smaller groups. Most fled to Arcmere. A few are in Blackhurst. This cave was inhabited by us for a long time. It was our resting place for nearly a hundred years, and has seen many people—many Astrans—come and go."

"Amazing." Owen ran his hand over an old plate, rubbing the dust between his fingers. "In Milarc, we had to go through some tunnels to get into Avathon. We discovered what looked like a library. Gilda thought it might have been an Alliance hideout."

Bridge looked back and smiled. "The Alliance were always underground dwellers. Before the Battle at Thorn Hill, we recruited out this way. Over twenty years ago we had thousands of members, and then in just a few short weeks, they were all taken."

Owen recalled hearing and reading about the Battle at Thorn Hill, where Alliance members lost their lives fighting for the freedom of Astrans near Luthien. "So, you fought in the battle?"

Bridge nodded. "I was twenty-nine, a blacksmith for the Alliance, and I forged many weapons. But the Legion was prepared. We had several traitors in our midst. Many Astrans were controlled by Wielders' Cores and taken in for Cleansings. The rest of us came back here from the battle, and eventually drifted away from old ties and friends. Whoever was left of us had to move out of the caves, as they've been tampered with by humans. They're vulnerable to floods and quakes. But these lands are difficult to farm. The rest of everyone departed and searched elsewhere for places to live."

"And only you remained."

Bridge nodded, his face falling. Then he turned and looked at Owen, a glint of anticipation in his eyes. "There are some hidden gems in this world that need to be seen. One lies down this way." Taking a small lantern from his belt, he lit the wick, and the tunnel brightened with an orange glow. Ahead of them, steps led downward.

"Down there?"

"Yes. It's not strenuous. It's an easy path down. The walk will be good for you."

"Alright." Knowing the way ahead was safe, Owen's heart leaped with excitement for what lay ahead.

Taking in a deep breath, he followed behind Bridge, careful of his injury as he stepped down a set of stone stairs. When the path narrowed, he slipped his way through a crevice between the rocks, wiggling through until it widened into a small opening. Here, the ground dipped low and curved around a corner.

"Watch your step here," Bridge said quietly.

With his left hand, Owen clung to the wall as the rock beneath his newly inherited boots became wet. Stalactites hung low from the ceiling, dripping water into puddles that reflected their lantern light. Careful of the wet floor, he held onto grooves in the side of the rock wall, where water sat still in shallow alcoves. He ran his hand through the pools as he walked, amazed at such beauty.

When they came into a small room, Bridge turned around to look at him, then extinguished the lantern. For a moment, Owen was startled by the darkness, but his eyes quickly adjusted as he realized a soft glow was emanating from several rocks, or crystals, on the floor.

Owen's eyes widened as he took in the luminance of golden light from around the room. It was dim, glowing like embers, but enough to see Bridge's outline. "Amazing," he whispered reverently.

"Emberstone," Bridge said. "They react to the Essence you hold."

Owen blinked at him, then looked down as he saw a light on his belt. Releasing his dagger from the sheath, he found it beaming yellow along with the stones.

Bridge's eyes widened, his mouth twitching as he came forward. "I wondered, when I saw your blade, if it had the same properties as the stones."

"Why is it lighting up?" he asked, his eyes catching the gold flecks.

"May I?" Bridge asked, holding out his hands.

Owen gave him the blade with ease.

Bridge turned it over in his hand, and a look of grief fell over his face. "Yes, this particular blade itself is embedded with emberstone. Emberstone is mostly found in deep caves. You just have to know where to look. The earth glows with a power as well, one that non-Astrans can't see." Bridge handed the dagger back. "How did you come across this?"

Owen rubbed his thumb over the blade. "My uncle, Amias. He helped me out of Milarc, but he worked for the Legion to hide me. He told me the blade belonged to my father."

"You're very lucky to possess it. It's a rare element, and it's hard to detect because they look like normal rocks."

"But the dagger doesn't always glow like this. It has glowed before, when I pushed my Essence into it. But never like this."

"No, the emberstone in the blade isn't in its raw form. Naturally formed crystals of emberstone glow, but once they are ground and reformed into an object, they require Essence to glow. In this case, it will also glow when it's around its family of crystals. It's said to be called the ‘god element.'" Bridge turned his face toward the glowing stones, his eyes glossing over. "Sometimes Agnes likes to come and sit in this room. So did another I was once close to, but he passed nearly twenty-three years ago."

"He was part of the Alliance?"

"Yes." Bridge smiled. "You remind me of him. I wasn't sure at first, but looking at you now, I know."

Owen's face contorted in confusion. "Know what?"

"That you're Jensen's son."

A gasp escaped Owen's throat, his heart feeling as though it may stop beating at the name. "Jensen," he got out, and blinked. "My…"

"Your father." Bridge smiled sadly. "I wondered, after he was captured, and Emilia fled with her brother, if she was with child. Agnes had seen the signs of motherhood in her."

"You knew my father?" Owen's eyes widened. "And mother?"

Bridge nodded. "Your father was part of the Alliance, and when he met Emilia, he brought her around, but she never joined us. She only loved your father. He was a good man. You have his kind face."

Pain ripped across Owen's chest, and he frowned at the thought that this man had known his father, but he never had. "What can you tell me about him?"

Smiling, Bridge said, "Perhaps tonight we can discuss it, over the Solstice feast we'll be preparing." He smiled broadly.

Excitement flooded him, but also defeat, as Owen was ready to know about his father at that very moment. However, he didn't want to be rude, as Bridge and Agnes had saved his life, and he owed them patience, at least.

"That sounds wonderful," he said. His eyes lingered on the lights for a moment, and then it came to Owen that he still didn't have a charm for Colt's Winter's Solstice gift.

Glancing at Bridge, he asked, "Would it be possible for me to carve a small piece from one of these crystals?" When Bridge looked at him quizzically, Owen went on, "I have a necklace for Colt, but no charm. I could use a crystal instead. I think he would like it."

Bridge cocked his head, looking surprised at first, then he smiled warmly. "Well, I don't see why not. If you want to wait here, I'll go get my forging tools. I'm sure I have something we can chisel a piece off with."

As he left, Owen glanced at the glowing crystals. He felt a little dizzy, no doubt from walking so far. The emberstone glowed around him warmly like dim stars, and he drank in the sight of the golden crystals. They were beautiful, and when he touched one, he shivered. Feeling suddenly fatigued, he sat on a rock nearby as he waited for Bridge. The pain of his wound came to him suddenly, and he craved more of Agnes's herbs.

Perhaps they could hide and live in this cave, like his father had. The thought seemed good for only a moment, though, as Owen knew that Rem and Elian would eventually catch up to them. It was only a matter of time. And when the Hunters or Wielders got their hands on him? He would turn himself over to keep his companions safe, despite Colt's arguments.

When a shadow moved in the corner of his eye, Owen held his breath as he looked over, but then relaxed when he saw the hooded shadow man appear near the crystals.

"You were right, Shadow Man," Owen told the spirit, addressing him for the first time. "We needed to come here."

"Shadow Man?"

Owen laughed softly. "I don't know what else to call you."

The spirit stared at him for the longest time, the space beyond its hood dark, and the wisps of black that flowed around it curling up before disappearing.

"You are special, Owen Green. I would like to know you more."

Owen made a sour face. "There's nothing special about me. I just want to live free, without the Legion or Hunters trying to run after me. But…" He looked down at his hands as shame overcame him. He thought of each person who had suffered because of his existence. "I know I can't keep running."

"You have to make that choice, Owen. I have guided you where you need to be, where I intended you to always come… I've waited for the day I would lead you to it…"

Owen narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

The spirit stared at him for a long time before it finally faded, leaving Owen with no answers and a heavy pit deep in his stomach. He got up and moved to where the shadow man had been, but it was gone, leaving only a trace of cold behind that made Owen shiver.

He was suddenly unsure of this spirit.