Chapter 5: Proof

You can’t die here Owen.

The hand squeezing his shoulder was the only thing that felt real. The fires outside made the world look hellish. People were screaming, running around and shouting things Owen couldn’t hear. His father towered over him, silhouetted against the burning, screaming, hellworld that was closing in on them.

“You can’t die here Owen. Do you understand?” The grip tightened, it might have been an attempt at comfort. “I need you to be strong until this is over.”

“I-” Suddenly Owen was on the brink of tears. He couldn’t see Father’s face through the flickering shadows but he knew something was wrong. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” Father’s voice was sharp, like he got when Owen was skipping chores. The pressure on his shoulder vanished and father stood up, pulling his hand away.

“Get out of here- you need to leave, now!”

Owen stumbled away, his body obeying automatically. Leave? Why? Where should he go? He turned and ran, details of his surroundings blurring until he reached the outside. A nearby hill gave Owen a better view of the building he’d just escaped. A section was completely engulfed in flames, smoke billowing upwards in a great black tower. Owen watched the smoke rise towards a black cloud that hung over the entire scene, lit from below by the fires.

Hot tears tracked down Owen’s face. He wasn’t supposed to cry, he was too old for crying. A shadow slithered by him, a large serpentine shape made of blackness with eyes that burned a deep red in a head that rippled like smoke. It slid in a large circle around him, coiling up until he could no longer see the fires, or the smoke. Just a deep blackness and a pair of glowing red eyes. This was not part of the memory.

“What is this?”

He wasn’t sure if he asked the question or thought it. The snake held his gaze, weighing him. Then his own voice responded.

Home

The dream ended.

                                                                                       ***

Owen woke in the bed of the inquisition wagon. His head held some echoes of pain but otherwise he felt remarkably fine. Which meant he’d been out for several hours at least. He sat up to see an unfamiliar face seated lazily next to him.

The boy’s uniform marked him as an inquisition apprentice. His skin was the ever common light-tan which meant he was probably from either the central or western provinces of the empire. Though he had the bright blue eyes of someone from the north. Those eyes were focused on him with an unusual intensity when he woke.

“Heya!”

Owen sat up and put a hand to his head, “Huh?”

The apprentice, whose name Owen didn’t know, grinned at him. “I said, heya. Ancient custom called ‘greeting’, or don’t you remember those?” The boy's eyes twinkled as he spoke, he seemed to be having fun.

Owen paused for a moment, unsure of how to respond. “I do…” He said, “Sorry, guess I’m just a little out of it.”

The apprentice nodded “Yeah you were out for a while. But most people in your place would be out permanently so, I guess you’ve got that going for ya.”

Owen grimaced, “What happened? Last thing I remember was Jeran starting a siphon.”

The apprentice sat up straighter, excitement practically glowing off him. “He was pretty awesome right? I’ve heard the rumors but he was seriously incredible. Did all that just with cloak techniques!”

He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I’m not totally sure what happened at the end, but he knocked you pretty good after shouting for us to get away. I assume it’s related to your condition?”

Owen blinked at the question. He’d asked so… plainly. He fumbled for a response before a voice called back from the front.

“Ethan,” Inquisitor Victor was glaring at them from his place beside Jeran in the driver seat. “The nature of the aberration is classified.”

The apprentice, Ethan, rolled his eyes. “All due respect sir, I am your apprentice. Which means I have the right to any information pertinent to my duty of assisting you.”

Victor's glare soured but he turned back towards the road. Ethan winked at Owen’s stunned expression. “If you know the rulebook well enough, you can basically do whatever you want. Plus-” He raised his voice, tossing the words at his Master’s back. “I’ve got eight months left before taking oaths. He can’t punish me without a really good reason.”

“Insibordination ought to be a good one.” Inquisitor Victor Grumbled back.

“Nope,” Ethan replied cheerfully, “I checked. Twice”

A snort drew Owen’s attention to where Zedra was sitting against one side of the covered wagon, trying to pretend she was coughing when Victor glared back at her. She’d taken off her uniform coat and cloak, exposing a simple white shirt with short sleeves that exposed her arms to the cool air.

Her skin was a deep brown that marked her as from the southwestern province. Her shirt was cut off at the bottom, and Owen saw a white bandage had been wrapped around her stomach. She winced while she stifled her laugh.

“Ethan if you keep antagonizing him he’ll eventually find a way to bust you down.” She said, wiping her eyes.

“He’d never,” Ethan said, “Too late to request a transfer, and he’d never volunteer to be more stuck with me.”

Zaid, who was sitting against the other wall, chimed in. “It’s unbecoming of an apprentice to antagonize their instructor”

Ethan heaved out a long sigh, “Zaid, do you realize how impressive it is that you’ve the siphon at such a young age?”

Zaid’s expression became confused. “Huh?”

“I’ve never met anyone more capable of sucking the fun out of a room.” Ethan rubbed his face, “You need to lighten up, like a lot.”

Zaid looked down at his sword, and actually blushed. “We have to take things seriously,” He muttered, “We’re monster hunters.”

Ethan frowned back at, “They tell us that every day as initiates, it’s exhausting.You should help him loosen up.”

Owen was having trouble keeping up with what was happening. “Sorry but, what is happening right now?”

Ethan raised an eyebrow, “I’m suggesting you take your partner to get a drink or four”

Owen shook his head, suddenly feeling very exposed. “No not that, just- what are you doing?”

Ethan’s eyebrow stayed raised, “Making conversation?”

“Being annoying?” Zedra offered.

“Talking to me,” Owen answered. Looking nervously to where Jeran and Victor were sitting together. “I don’t know, I just don’t think I’ve had anyone talk this much.”

Ethan’s grin returned, though it was tempered with something Owen couldn’t pin down. It was a soft, open expression. “Well that’s because they keep the interesting people away from you. I promise if there weren’t like seven layers of security you’d definitely be used to this.”

“No, you’re right. Ethan talks to much.” Zedra was digging through her pack, “You should be glad they keep his type away. The peace and quiet sounds nice.”

The two bickered back and forth for a short while until Owen finalled interjected, “Aren’t you scared of me?” The words tasted sour, “Or… mad about what I let happen to Zedra?”

Ethan turned, his face softening as he regarded Owen. His ever-present smile was warm, “We’re monster hunters.” He said, “Everything is scary. So in a way, nothing really is.”

He thumbed towards Zedra who was reading through a bundle of newspapers she’d pulled from her bag. “As far as Inquisitor clumsy over there, yeah I guess I’m a little upset, but more with her performance than-”

The bundle of papers thwacked into the side of Ethan’s head. “Give it a read,” Zedra said thinly, “A lot of high profile criminal arrests in the last few weeks. Might have had something to do with the assassination.”

Ethan, not missing a beat, snatched up the papers and started flipping through them. “Juicy,” He said, “What about the Princess’ coronation? Is that still happening tomorrow night? Who’s on the guest list?”

Owen watched them bicker, a smile almost forming when Zedra threatened to kick Ethan off the wagon. He turned to watch the scenery and saw a small field of the flowers he’d recognized on the way out. They were pretty. Growing in clumps of three stalks to a root, petals a buttery yellow that made him think of summer. The distinct feeling that he knew those flowers thrummed in him, and he had the urge to pick some. He glanced sideways at Ethan and Zedra.

“We were in the capital for years.” Ethan said, “And I’ve never heard of Princess Celestine, there is no way they don’t declare a regency.”

“And why’s that?” Zedra demanded, “Just because you didn’t know she existed you think she can’t handle the job?”

“ No, I think she can’t handle the job because she’s nineteen.” Ethan shot back, crossing his arms.

“You’re nineteen!"

“Exactly!” Ethan said, a little louder than was probably necessary. “And I wouldn’t trust myself with the entire empire, especially not so soon after surviving an assassination attempt!”

Ethan and Zedra were debating politics, Victor and Jeran sat facing forward in the driver seat and Zaid was polishing his boots. No one was looking at him. Owen looked back at the passing flowers, they were only a few feet away from the cart, well within his range.

He picked up a blanket and wrapped it around himself under the pretext of the autumn chill, then as gently as he could, he sparked his powers. A jolt of energy surged into him, larger than he’d intended. He ducked his head under the blanket. The glow wasn’t shining through his clothes, he was safe. Raising his head to look natural he summoned a hand and extended it from his back and over the lip of the wagon. He kept his eyes forward while trying to grope his way along the ground with his powers. He’d never done this before, he could feel contact but that was about it. He couldn’t tell how far he’d reached or what he was touching. He stole a glance over his shoulder and saw the glowing tendril had reached a clump of the flowers, fingers splayed as it felt around blindly. He grabbed a handful and retracted the arm. Dismissing it and releasing the energy in his body.

He slipped the flowers under his blanket and just held them against his chest. It had been stupid to pick them of course, but holding them close like this felt right somehow. The memory of his father’s voice resurfaced and he felt his eyes stinging. The dream, memory, whatever it was had been awful. But it also meant he’d had a father, a home, a family. It was the first real proof he had of being human. That horrible memory, and the familiarity of these little yellow flowers.

Owen sniffed, shaking his head against a sudden surge of emotions. He still didn’t know who he’d been, but at least now he knew he wasn’t just a monster.