Without knowing how or even if it would help, Owen threw his arms around Kaz. As he did so, he sang his hope, his desire to help, to stop her pain. And, to his surprise, the void inside of him opened to swallow the lightning coming off of her. 

He knelt by her side, singing into her hair, and rocking slightly. He held on to her and to the music with every scrap of concentration he had left, dimly aware that if he let go of either of them, the void would overwhelm him the way the lightning was currently overwhelming Kaz. He was certain that meant oblivion. He had to keep singing if either of them were to survive this. 

A new presence arrived in his consciousness. It was familiar, though Owen was too focused on keeping the song going to figure out why. The presence reached out. At first Owen flinched away from it, but quickly realized that it was not intent on harming either of them. Maybe it could help. 

Another voice joined his song. At first it seemed to be singing with him, following his improvisation, but he gradually became aware that it was bringing in familiar elements. He recognized it as a song to ritually honor the elements and bring them into harmony, usually used in elaborate and formal ceremonies. He knew the song, and joined in, hoping that in doing so they could calm both void and lightning. 

As he sang, he gradually became aware that he knew the other voice. It was Orlando, with the resonance in his voice that he only heard when his father performed the deepest rites. Owen also began to feel the ache of his body as he supported Kaz’s shuddering weight. The sense of both Chukulla and Ch’usaj began to fade as Owen and Orlando sang. By the time they reached the final notes of the ritual song, both elements had ebbed completely. Kaz sighed and went limp in Owen’s exhausted embrace, nearly knocking him backwards. 

“Easy,” said Orlando. “Let me help you. We need to lie her down.” 

Owen felt Orlando gently lifting Kaz’s weight, and he released her with a reluctance he didn’t fully understand. 

The sauna’s door flap rustled. “Orlando, do you still need the kitchen poker?” It was Maria. Owen wondered dully what Orlando would have used the poker for. 

“No, dear,” Orlando called out to her. “But, if you don’t mind, could you boil some water for tea? Lavender and chamomile should do the trick.” 

“Of course,” said Maria, and then her footsteps pattered away back to the house. 

“What was that? What just happened?” Owen asked his father. 

“I believe,” said Orlando quietly. “That we just witnessed the birth of a mage. Possibly two.” 

“Will she be alright?”

“I don’t know yet. I must check with Chukulla to ensure the ritual was complete.” 

“And if it wasn’t?” 

“Then she may be trapped in a dream state, which would be much more difficult to remedy.” 

Owen took that in. Kaz’s fingers had fallen next to his. He took her hand. “I hope not,” he said.

“Me too,” said Orlando. 

“Is there anything I can do?” asked Owen. 

“Just drink the tea when your mother gets back. And rest if you can. You’ve been through a lot. This will only take a moment.” 

Too exhausted to crawl back to his robe, Owen lay down right where he was. He could hear Orlando murmuring on the other side of Kaz. We’ve just witnessed the birth of a mage. Possibly two. Did that mean that Owen was a mage as well? It would certainly fit with the incident on the mountain. But then, why wouldn’t Ch’usaj have mentioned something that important? Could a shaman do what Owen had just done? Had there ever been a shaman chosen by Ch’usaj? Owen had never heard of one, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. Either way, Owen certainly had some sort of power. And whether Shaman or Mage, he would need to learn to use it. 

Owen sighed, feeling like his head had been hollowed out and filled with unspun alpaca wool. He knew he had hundreds of questions, but right now he was so tired that he couldn’t even formulate one.

Next Chapter: 19: Kaz - Aftermath