Owen was an intelligent and diligent boy. His tutor instructed him in all the knowledge expected of an imperial heir, while a master-at-arms trained him in the handling of weapons. His father came several times a week to observe his lessons.

  Since he had been able to see his mother again, he no longer visited her dreams. Every day, he came to recount his discoveries, savoring these moments with her. She smiled, held him in her arms, and laughed with him. For the first time in months, everything seemed to have settled.

  Yet a lingering unease remained. Outside of these moments, Owen never smiled. He showed no emotion and took care never to upset his tutors or his father. Deep down, he knew he had to remain cautious. When he looked at his mother, a very different feeling seemed to dwell in her heart.

  Sometimes, when she saw him enter her room, she would startle or recoil. The last time he had tried to take her hand, she had abruptly pulled it away, as if the mere touch had frightened her. Something was wrong—he was certain of it.

  When he questioned her, she evaded the issue, pretending that all was well. Yet the dark circles beneath her eyes, and the moisture in them, betrayed the truth.

  In the nights that followed, Owen once again explored her dreams—not to show himself, but to understand what haunted her. She still suffered nightmares, some so vivid that they awoke her or prevented her from sleeping. They resembled those he had seen before: in each one, he saw a distorted image of his father—taller, stronger, crueler, and infinitely more terrifying.

  What could his father have done to her? He remembered that day, when he was still so small, when his father had deliberately harmed her. At the time, he had been unable to comprehend what was happening. If he had been older, could he have intervened?

  No. Even now, what could he do to protect her if it happened again? He felt powerless.

  Despite his precocious maturity, he did not fully grasp the depth of the harm she had endured. Since that fateful day, he had never witnessed his father lay a hand on her again. At least, not in his presence.

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  Perhaps that was the problem. Owen already visited her as often as he could, from sunrise to sunset, outside of his lessons. He stayed by her side as long as possible, but there was only so much he could do.

  How could he know? How could he help? He had to act. He had to become stronger… to protect her.

  His own power remained a mystery, even to him. For now, he could do nothing more. At night, he thought tirelessly, gradually emptying his mind. Until now, concentrating on someone had isolated him from the world. This time, he learned to amplify his sensations until he could perceive the presence of everyone outside his room, then throughout the palace, and even across multiple levels.

  He also trained to project his mind onto others, gradually extending his ability to enter their dreams. He could already reach into a person’s memory through physical contact.

  By the age of six, Owen had learned to combine his skills and read a person’s thoughts without touching them. He no longer needed to enter their dreams.

  ???

  That day, he visited his mother. Though she wore her familiar, everyday smile, she seemed increasingly exhausted. He sensed that the distance between them was growing, as if she feared him a little more with each visit. He did not know why, but this time he was determined to discover the reason.

  As she sat at the table, inviting him to sit beside her, he stood before her, locking his eyes on hers. She asked what was wrong and why he looked so serious. Her heart raced; she was afraid. Seeing that he did not answer, she fell silent, sensing that something significant was happening.

  A flood of images and memories crashed into Owen’s mind, but he held on. In his memory, he saw her living with her family, then the day the Emperor took her away. He saw her confronted by lies and truths, and losing consciousness that same evening. He saw her during her pregnancy, then his own birth. The rest he already knew.

  One passage intrigued him more than any other: after his return a few months earlier, he had seen his mother regain some happiness, despite the shadow that still lingered over her. He needed to understand its source… and he finally discovered it.

  Every evening, the Emperor visited her, and what Owen had been unaware of until now suddenly revealed itself. The man justified his abuses as a transaction of favors, giving her the answers she wanted—but only sparingly.

  Owen himself became a means of pressure against her if she dared to oppose him. The conclusion was unavoidable: his father was a monster.