Despite the priest's warnings, the crowd was split. Some were lost in thought, while others began to murmur. Even Roman, known for opposing nearly everything, remained silent.
Edmund continued, "The dagger only reveals its true color under the moonlight. At midnight, everyone gathers here so that we may see it together. If it glows blue, my prediction is correct, and we must leave."
Mr. Miles, a cautious watchmaker with little voice or courage, spoke up, his voice trembling as he voiced the fears of many: "Where would we go? We have nowhere else. Every town fears the legend of the Ozhem wizard!"
And indeed, he was right. Leaving their home could never be an option for those who had spent their entire lives in this small paradise. Abandoning this place would clearly indicate the ominous events they had tried so hard to escape. They would be cast out wherever they went lest their misfortune curse them, too.
Mrs. Nature added, "If it's true, the wizard will never rest until he finds his lover. And until then, he'll kill anyone who stands in his way."
Her voice trembled with fear. Edmund, clearly displeased, replied, "We'll decide what to do once we know the truth. But we can't let an innocent die."
Edmund's cold hands were clammy with sweat as he shifted his cane from one hand to the other, hoping the breeze might cool him. The fear of what the townsfolk might do once the truth was out weighed heavily on him. The people of Ozhem might seem kind and harmless, but even a cat sharpens its claws if its young are threatened. He couldn't bear the thought of discord and division among them or allow an innocent youth to lose his life.
The priest quickly turned toward his home to avoid further arguments, and the crowd began to disperse. However, murmurs about the wizard continued to ripple through them. One man Will didn't recognize muttered as if to himself, "If it's true, we'll just have to hand him over! I don't see what all this fuss is about."
Judging by his belt, Will guessed the man was from the Bamboo Forest. They always carried knives, large and small, never knowing when they might stumble upon a good hunt or face the Sunless people.
Before he disappeared into the crowd, another voice challenged him, "Even if it were your own child, would you give them up?"
The man ignored him, and the crowd continued their discussions.
The townspeople were divided into four groups: the first were those who doubted the truth of the matter entirely, dismissing the priest's warnings as nonsense. The second group was ready to flee, even if they knew no corner of the world would welcome them. The third, the largest group, believed the victim should be handed over, regardless of who it was. They were likely confident the victim wouldn't be among their loved ones—after all, who could so easily surrender someone dear to them?
The fourth group, the smallest, agreed with Edmund and believed in his story. They were adamant that the victim, whoever it might be, should not be handed over.
What puzzled Will was why his parents were absent from the gathering when everyone else had shown up to hear such important news. He recalled that Adrien had come to their house early that morning, insisting his order be delivered by four. As Will searched the crowd for Adrien, he found that he had vanished, slipping away while Will had been distracted by the crowd's reactions.
Mounting Leo, he returned home, stabling the horse before entering through the back door. Before confronting his parents, he paused to listen.
Julian cracked his thick knuckles. "Edmund was distraught last night. He's sure that there's bad news on the way. Right now, he's talking to the others about it."
Catherine dried her wet hands on her apron. "The Ultras family already sacrificed one of their own. Do you really think it could happen to us again?"
Her voice trembled, and Will was taken aback by the certainty with which his parents spoke, realizing they never doubted the truth of this legend. He recalled the family tree and the mention of Antony Ultras, one of his ancestors, buried in Grace Cemetery five centuries ago. He'd always assumed it was just another old tale laced with fear and imagination, stories spun for amusement.
Julian replied, "I don't think there's any order to it."
Catherine gripped his shoulder with worry. "If there's even a chance Will's at risk, we need to leave. Now."
Julian glanced at the saddlebags he'd prepared. "The horses are ready."
A chill ran through Will as his heart skipped a beat. There were other youths in Ozhem nearing twenty-two—Adrian was one, and Caleb and Johansson. They were away traveling. But his concern grew upon hearing he belonged to a family that had once given a sacrifice. If this curse followed a family line like a disease, then Will was the likeliest candidate. No other cousins had reached twenty-two except those living in the Fires Mountains.
He could no longer remain hidden, his mind filled with a flurry of dark thoughts. "I'm here," he announced, stepping forward.
When Will appears before them, Julian admires his son's beauty more intensely than ever, a deep pressure building within him. It feels like that day at Shining River when he had dived under the water to retrieve a shell, going down so far he thought his body might come apart. Just as he was sure it was over—that he was about to drown—he thought of Will, waiting in the boat, those marble-like eyes fixed on the turbulent waves, hoping for his return. "If I'm gone, who will be a father to him? He's too young to lose me."
These thoughts had rushed through his fading mind, pushing him into one last effort. Slashing away the tangled weeds from his legs with a rusted dagger, he managed to pull himself to the surface. When he saw his boy's face break into a broad smile, he raised the shell he'd retrieved, and Will squealed with joy. Back then, he had fought for Will's life. Now, he knew he'd do it again—no matter what.
"Will, go pack what you need. We're leaving tonight."
William lacks the strength to resist. His eyes are filled with apprehension and questions, doubts he's unsure his father can answer. This surprises Julian and Catherine, but it doesn't take long for them to realize Will has overheard something. The troubled look on his face tells them he knows more than enough, so they spare themselves the trouble of asking him any questions. It may be better this way. If they were to take him with them without an explanation, things would surely be much more complicated.
Even if fear wasn't a factor, Will, like anyone else, didn't want to die young or become the sacrifice to a wizard's love. So he simply went to his room.
Will was a jeweler who carved beautiful gemstones or crafted glass objects from ordinary crystals and sold them. He had learned the craft from his father, following in the footsteps of his ancestors.
Tonight, though, Will feels a strange dread. He'd rather stay here until the morning to understand the truth behind the tale, but time isn't on his side. According to the legend of Ozhem's wizard, a group of mysterious figures will blow the horns on the first day of the eleventh month when the wizard remains alone in the castle. As everyone hides away in their cottages, they place a stone coffin in the town square, the name of the chosen victim etched onto it. By the fifth day, the wizard will awaken, and the victim must be laid within the coffin and carried to the Mors Castle, left in the blood-stained garden. And as terrifying as it sounds, today is the thirtieth of the tenth month.
Will gathers his carving tools, placing them carefully in a satchel slung over his shoulder, and grabs a change of clothes. Clothes are easy to replace, but his tools are precious and delicate, complex to recreate. As he steps out of the room, he nods with a quiet determination.
"I'm ready."