Trying to put Kaz’s plight out of his head and focus at the task at hand, Owen pawed through his satchel. His fingers closed around the familiar contours of his panpipes. With trembling fingers, he drew them out. The sounds of insects and evening frogs surrounded him, heralding the evening. This was the last night of his vision quest.

He knew he was supposed to wait for his element to come to him. That was the tradition, and it had worked for everyone that he knew. Then again, none of them was blind. It was a huge risk for him to play the pipes, for him to take any action at all. He had been warned about that. But he trusted his music more than he trusted tradition. And his father had taught him that the elements responded well to direct communication. It would be assumed that he had been chosen by Ch’usaj if he came back with no contact after this third, last quest. If there was ever a time to risk breaking with tradition, this was it. Besides, his music had never followed the rules anyway. Why should he start now?

        He put the instrument to his lips and blew, shaping the opening notes as a ritual call for guidance. Then he let the music flow, allowing the sweet, smoky notes of melody to wander over the scale. As often happened when he played, he began to hear other instruments, percussion and a flute as counterpoint. Together they formed a whole, a play of sound and silence that reached out and tugged gently on the world around him, inviting answers.

        And suddenly, there it was, something new stirring inside his chest. The music expanded from within him and continued expanding, flowing from a spring of infinite stillness in his center. The other instruments joining the pipes in his head faded out until it was just the melody, and a slow, deliberate building of knowledge.

        He knew discovery, curiosity, the joy of unfettered creation. He knew fear, then pain and betrayal. He knew sadness and loneliness, a longing to connect. He knew emptiness. Then he discovered anger and formed it into a lust for vengeance. But beneath it all still lurked the pain and confusion, the longing for acceptance and equality.

        As the melody faded, Owen realized that he knew his element. He didn’t know whether to laugh in relief that his ordeal was over, or cry, because he had been chosen by Ch’usaj, the only element that was universally discounted and feared.

        He leaned back against his tree, exhausted. There was a tingling, aching emptiness in his chest that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the rage that had coursed through him at the end of the song. He wondered if it was possible to deny an element, to go back for a second opinion.

        That is not possible, said a cold female voice from within his own head.

        Owen forgot to breathe for a few seconds. Ch’usaj? He thought.

        Yes, answered the voice. Owen was relieved that, this time, it did not come with the rage.

        Uh, hi, thought Owen.

        Hello Owen, said Void. At long last we meet. I fought my siblings long and hard for you.

        Why? Asked Owen, nonplussed.

        Because we could all tell you would be important. But I needed you the most. You, I think, will be my champion.

        Owen gulped. Your champion? What does that mean? I’m not -

        You are far more than you yet realize. I will tell you more later. Now, you must defend yourself.

        Defend myself against -?

        But the footsteps of the trackers answered his question. Before he could ask how he should defend himself, Void answered him.

        Play again. I will guide you.

        Utterly confused, Owen once more raised his pipes to his lips. What good would his music be against cruelty and violence? And then he felt a stirring from the same infinity that fueled the music. Guided by Void’s instruction, he teased out several threads of emptiness.

        The trackers were cresting the hill. Devlin growled as they drew closer. One of the men began to wonder at what Owen was doing, while another ordered him to put down his instrument, and began to stride towards him.

        Owen released the threads, willing them to touch the minds of his would-be attackers. He heard several thumps as they fell to the ground. Then silence.

        Void? Owen wondered. What did I just do to them?

        Nothing permanent, she replied, her voice brimming with satisfaction. They will be unconscious for several hours, then not remember the incident.

        Wow, thought Owen. Can most people do that?

        Void’s laughter chilled him. It was like an earthquake in a canyon. Very few can, she said. You are very special, Owen.

        Not entirely sure he liked this newfound power any more than his newfound element, Owen began packing his bag. There would be time to make sense of it all later. For now, at least his vision quest was over, and he could return home to his family.

Next Chapter: 7. Kaz - Revelations