Owen was burning.

  He stood in a black void, surrounded by faceless, glowing people made of fire. He’d had this dream enough to the point it was almost normal to him. Despite the ghosts’ lack of facial features he could feel their gazes on him. A physical heat that seared his flesh as they shambled towards him. The pain was intense but he couldn’t get away. Everywhere he turned there were more burning figures, more faceless monsters reaching for him. Their steps never brought them closer to him, and the heat from their eyeless gazes only ever caused him pain, never injury. Fire couldn’t kill him, and neither could these. So he stood surrounded by a sea of flaming bodies, burning until he could wake up.

  Knock! knock!

  The sound pulled Owen into reality. He stared up at the dark ceiling and let himself just exist. His muscles were tense, and his lungs heaved in cool air like they were dying of thirst. He slowed down his breaths until they were controlled and measured. Each one brought him a little closer to being fully awake.

  Knock! Knock!

  The door sounded again. Pushing aside the memory of the burning figures, Owen pushed himself to a sitting position. Doing his best to keep the shaking out of his voice. “Who is it?”

  “It's Zaid”

  The familiar voice jolted Owen fully awake and he leapt to his feet. “Just a second!” he called. He pulled a change of clothes from the chest by the foot of his bed and pulled them on quickly before going to open the door.

  A gust of cool spring air rushed through the open door, making Owen shiver. Zaid stood at attention in his black and white inquisitor uniform. His apprentice cloak draped over his left shoulder in exactly the same position it always was, displaying the white four pointed star on a black field. Zaid stepped back and raised his hand to block his face, blinking in surprised from the heat that washed over him from the inside of Owen’s stone hut-like room.

  “Sorry about that,” Owen grimaced, he hadn’t noticed the heat building. But that was part of the reason he lived so far from the main fortress.

  Zaid returned to his stance, clasping his hands behind him. “We’re being sent out,” He said

  “Sent out?” Owen perked up, “When?”

  “This afternoon, Jeran is getting the details now.” Zaid turned and started marching away, “You’re to report to the training hall as soon as possible for assessment.”

  Assessment, Owen’s stomach flipped. “Thank you” He called before pulling back into his room and leaning against the wall.

  They were being sent out, that meant he’d get to leave the fortress grounds. Excitement cautiously rose in his chest. He’d get to leave blackreach and actually see the outside world for the first time in weeks. The first time hadn’t gone well, this meant that High Inquisitor Saharim was noticing his improvements.

  “Assessment.” He said, feeling the twist in his gut. “I can handle assessment.” Zaid was long gone, having walked back towards the main fortress complex. No one was around for Owen to convince. He shook himself and pushed off the wall. They said as soon as possible, so he’d go now. Breakfast could wait.

  ***

  “Show us your level of control, aberrant.”

  At Inquisitor Feras’ command Owen tapped into the Anger. This part was never hard. The Anger was a living, breathing thing. Always waiting until he reached for it. It was like a pool of sensation inside him, all he had to do was reach inside and touch it.

  Heat rushed into Owen’s body, causing the skin around his chest and neck to glow bright enough to show through his cotton training shirt. Owen’s muscles tensed as The Anger filled him. He became hyperaware of everything in the room. Inquisitor Feras standing in front of him looking bored. Two other inquisitors standing farther back, holding training swords. The light cast by the morning sun through windows set high above them. The large white sparring circle he was standing in. The doors to this training hall positioned behind his examiners. Everything hit him in a rush of sense and clarity. His vision wasn’t better, it was just more somehow. He noticed things he wouldn’t normally see. The careful posture of the inquisitors, the way the ground felt through his shoes, the lazy way Inquisitor Feras stared at him. The Anger brought these details into sharp focus, and it spoke treasonous things to him.

  Don’t you hate this?

  You could escape, they can’t stop you.

  Doesn’t it hurt?

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  They aren’t even paying attention!

  Is this really necessary?

  They don’t even care.

  Why are you letting them do this?

  Owen pushed out a slow, steady breath, asserting control over his thoughts, forcing them to slow and then stop. His muscles relaxed, and the glow in his chest dimmed. The Anger wasn’t his, it was something external. A parasite bound to his soul. But he wouldn’t let it control him.

  He focused on controlling his breathing and directed the energy in his body outward. A dozen tendrils of red-orange light ghosted soundlessly through the back of his shirt and rose into the air. Each tendril ended in a hand that pulsed with firelight that warped the air. He’d never summoned so many at once before, a silent personal victory. Owen drew energy away from the burning hands, extinguishing the flames. Then he pressed them all against the wooden floor of the training hall. Nothing caught fire, Owen forced himself not to leap with excitement, instead looking to inquisitor Feras.

  Feras nodded at him, a sign of approval. “How do you feel?”

  “In control.” Owen said, letting a small smile creep out.

  Feras nodded again, “let's see you prove it then.”

  Owen retracted the arms, they slipped back into him without a sound, though the glow inside his chest was still visible. Owen checked his position in the center of the circle and squared his legs. This was the hard part. He nodded at Inquisitor Feras.

  “One!” He shouted

  One of the examiners charged and swung his wooden training sword. Owen dove just in time to hear it whistle over him before he rolled back to his feet and spun. His opponent’s stance was relaxed. The training sword in a one-handed grip.

  Owen blasted glowing hands erupting from his back and down into the ground. The force launched him towards his opponent. The man stepped to the side and struck casually. The sword caught Owen in the shoulder as he rocketed forward. The blow rolled him in midair, Pain blossoming from his shoulder. Followed by heat around the point of contact. He crashed near the edge of the ring and groaned. The Anger had no patience for weakness. Owen rolled to his feet and winced as the heat on his shoulder increased it became molten. In a few moments the glow and the heat was gone. As was whatever minor injury he’d just taken.

  Owen ran towards the inquisitor. When the man lunged at him Owen brought a glowing hand around to parry the strike. Redirecting it and dodging behind him.

  Why not just fight back?

  Owen shook his head and focused. Parrying another strike before Inquisitor Feras’ voice cut in.

  “Stop.”

  Owen and his opponent froze and stepped back to their starting positions. Owen drew the red tendrils back into himself, and reset his stance. He was more alert now, bouncing on the balls of his feet while his eyes darted between the inquisitors standing in front of him. His body wanted to move, The Anger wanted to fight, but he was still in control.

  After a moment of rest Feras barked “Two!”

  Owen stopped bouncing and spun his head between the two inquisitors on either side of Feras. They stalked in opposite directions around the circle, one man and one woman whose names Owen couldn’t remember, each holding a training sword. The woman attacked first. Owen reacted by summoning a group of burning hands and shoving them towards her. Her eyes widened and she broke off her attack, dodging to the side. Owen’s face split in a grin, that worked! Crack! The consequence of Owen’s loss of focus was another blast of pain from his back. The other inquisitor was already dancing back out of reach when Owen swung one of the burning tendrils at him instinctively.

  Owen pivoted, trying and failing to keep his eyes on both of them at the same time. His back burned. His pulse hammered. And his emotions strained against his control. He held his hands out wardingly out to either side of him, while the red tendrils were raised above his head. They were extensions of himself. Limbs he could create and dismiss at will. But the two circling Inquisitors split his focus too many ways. He tried to steady his breathing when the male inquisitor lunged forward, aiming a heavy swing at Owen’s chest.

  Owen barely managed to bring one of the tendrils down to block. He saw the female inquisitor lunge from the corner of his eye and he panicked, slamming the rest of the burning arms down towards her. Hoping she’d dodge back.

  Instead, she flipped her cloak up and over her body. White lines of light burst across the fabric. Owen’s hands crashed into it and bounced off the now solid surface. She pushed the glowing arms up and with a graceful spin she slashed the black cloak through the red tendrils, severing them.

  Pain lanced through Owen and he yelped. The severed tendrils faded into nothing. Leaving an ache in his back though no wound had been caused. This distraction nearly got him struck a second time by the male inquisitor. He backed away, the white of the circle boundary close behind him. The two inquisitors stalked forward, practice swords ready.

  Why don’t I fight back?

  Owen growled, summoning more hands behind himself.

  “Enough.”

  Owen blinked, the two inquisitors were walking back to Feras’ side. He shook his head and dismissed the hands before moving back to the center of the ring. He felt hot, and The Anger pulsed in him with a physical presence. He hated this test, hated the casual way the examiners treated this. He wanted to be done.

  He closed his eyes and took three measured breaths. He would complete this test. He was in control.

  “Are you ready?” Feras asked.

  No. Owen nodded, “Yes”

  One Feras picked up a training sword, “Three.”