There seemed to be a presence wrapped around Owen's torso like a cloud, or a serpent. Something between the two. It was invisible to Owen, perhaps even to his Perceive, or specifically to Owen. Perhaps it had been implanted when he was most vulnerable. But little tendrils from this hazy thing reached up to the letters above Owen's head, rearranging them and drawing out new ones, making statements that were not Owen's, yet became his.
"Power... I do," Owen said, and those tendrils struggled to place more letters down.
I need power to fight.
I have to beat this.
I'm not afraid, I'm frustrated.
Yo̷u ͘c̷a͟n͝'͜t w̢i͘n.
I can win.
I wo̷n͘'t ͝le͏t̴ yo̴u̶.
It was digging into Owen's head, pushing past scales and bone. Owen winced, like it was only a dull pain, but to Bahamut, it was a grotesque display. The world was getting darker. The box seemed to be absorbing the light around it, including Bahamut's own.
"Something's... here," Owen said as one of his eyes disappeared in the dark. Dumbly, he raised his hand and reached for the thing boring into his skull, but more tendrils latched onto it and tried to pull it down.
But he fought it. He grasped onto the thing and it hissed loudly. Cyan aether gushed from the wound, and now Owen had both hands grasping at it.
A low, hissing noise echoed from the box. The skies outside had turned a blotchy purple.