Soul Mate Quest Journal 4th Entry

July 28
There is so much to tell, and I can barely think straight. Owen Snow-Clover is not as he seems. That fire that lit the sky? That was his village. It had been attacked by bandits and few villagers were alive. I found a young woman, clutching a small boy child to her. They were both alive.
“You smell like Owen’s magic. Have you seen him? He’s been missing for the last 6 months.” The woman stared at me hopefully. Her eyes were silver, glowing in the night, like Owen’s.
“Are you his wife?” I asked.
“No. His sister. When my daughter drowned six months ago, Owen refused to believe she was dead. He convinced himself she’d been abducted. Even after he saw her body, he still refused to accept the truth.”
I took a deep breath, and then fluffed my wings. “That explains a lot. He killed a bunch of warriors with ice magic a couple nights ago and cast a sleep spell on me. I’m sorry for your losses-both of your daughter-and your village. What would you like me to do about Owen?”
She looked me straight in the eyes, measuring me like her brother had. This time though, I was not found wanting. “Save him. Stop him. Please.” She begged.
I agreed to help Owen. I mean, that was the whole reason I came to the human world. I launched myself into the air, and began my search for Owen again. I could have helped the survivors, but I’m sure I would just be in the way.
Wouldn’t you know I’d find Owen in another camp of warriors? These men smelled of death and fire. They must have been the bandits. Owen was in the center of the camp, tied up again.
This time though, I just watched. I finally had realized that he was captured as a way to infiltrate their camp and lower their guard. That sparkly sleep spell encased the whole camp, and would have knocked me out again, except that I felt my amulet and medallion burning my skin. Easily breaking his bonds, Owen cast the ice death spell over the entire camp. Again, I was saved. Of all the things I expected him to do, laughing maniacally and howling to the stars were not on the list. He hadn’t looked for a little girl. He’d cast the death spell indiscriminately. Somehow, he’d lost his reason and his sense of purpose. How was I supposed to save him? He’s a walking death trap!
“Ah, Cathleen the Winged One. I’m surprised to see you survived the spell I just cast. What ARE you? Seriously, you should be dead.”
I grit my teeth and stalked up to him. “Yes, I SHOULD be dead-no thanks to you!” I smacked him with all my pent up rage and frustration. I know he’s crazy, but he DESERVED it! He’d killed countless people to escape the reality of his niece’s death. He’d probably kill more, unless I could somehow stop him.
He glared at me with those beautiful green eyes, and snarled incoherently. I could sense his power gathering, and knew he was going to try another spell on me. I did the only reasonable thing a person in my position could do. I kicked him in the groin, and it worked like a charm. Stolen Light had explained to me at a very young age that if a man was trying to harm me, to kick him there. It would dispel gathering magic or incapacitate him long enough for me to get away. Thank you brother. I think you saved me.
After he’d finished whimpering and swearing, he stood and looked at me. It was NOT a friendly look, but then, most men wouldn’t be happy after what I’d done to him.
“You do know your niece is dead, don’t you, Owen?” I asked softly.
A look of confusion flitted across his face before being replaced by malice.
“You LIE! I just haven’t found her yet!”
“If you knew she wasn’t here, why did you kill everybody?”
“I don’t need to justify my actions to YOU, feathered freak. Now leave me alone. I’ll find Sandra if I keep looking. I just know it!”
Now Owen is taller and bigger than me, but I’m pretty strong for a female of my kind. Stolen Light had seen to that. I grabbed Owen by his shirt collar, and shook him. “She. Is. Dead. I saw your sister, and she told me. Stop all this senseless killing or I’ll...”
“Or you’ll? What Cathleen? Cast a spell on me? Kill me?” he sneered. I am really not very fond of him, so I guess it’s ok that I yanked the slender gold chain from his neck and tossed him to the side. A little bruising might do him some good.
Now, I don’t know a lot about the human world, but a black crystal surrounded by blood stones spells dark magic to me. I felt it pulsing in my hand, testing my magic. Trying to control me.
“Give it back!” Owen growled as he launched himself at me. I evaded him and flew up to the top of the nearest tree.
Rummaging through my pack, I found a purifying potion Aria had packed for me. I stuck the necklace into the jar and sealed the lid. Owen was yelling at me and trying to cut down my tree. I hid the jar in my bags and jumped out of the tree. I kind of accidentally on purpose knocked Owen over when I landed. He tried to stab me with a dagger, so I had to kick him again. Oh well. Guess he won’t be having children any time soon.
“Owen Snow-Clover, you need to stop killing people. Go back to your family. You still have a nephew. Doesn’t that matter to you?”
“No. It doesn’t. Nothing and no one matters. All I care about is the thrill of the next kill. Don’t stand in my way, freak.”
I dislike being called a freak. So…I sort of punched him in the throat. He gasped and coughed and made sounds of pain. “Stop calling me a freak, or I’ll do it again.” I warned him. “Since you show no signs of remorse or restraint, I’m going to do something horrible to you.”
He laughed. At me. His disbelief caused my temper to flair to new heights. “You? I bet you can’t even light a candle with your magic.”
I hated him in that moment. The simple binding spell I’d intended to use fled my mind and was replaced by something by something much more powerful. Something spell singers used rarely, because of the psychological trauma it induces.
“You mock me now, but your emotions I’ll share. I’ll rebuild your heart with no restraint. I’ll destroy your darkness with a light so pure, you cannot escape.” I sang the spell at him, meeting his eyes the whole time. Whether I rue this or not, I had bound us to each other. Now whatever he felt, I felt, and what I felt, he felt. Given the strength of our anger and his darkened heart, I threw up. It was awful.
Two things I did not tell him: That we could not be more than a quarter of a mile apart, and that in less than a month I’d have to lift the spell. For all he knew, it was permanent. I took grim satisfaction in the fact that he was also sick, and the sheer panic on his face. I know there is much more to tell, but I need to sleep. I continually fear Owen deciding to try and kill me in my sleep-or worse-steal my journal.