I remembered something Kalli had once mentioned—something to which I had paid little heed at the time, but which now seemed to carry weight. She had spoken of humanity and the malevolent creatures that fed upon us, how in the other half of this world they had come to feed from within us. Yet she had also alluded to a third category, one she left undeveloped: the kind to which the stag and the old man at the bridge belonged. And the woman of fire, it struck me, seemed to belong to that same order.

  All the while I watched her and listened to Petros speak, my mind worked feverishly, weaving connections in the quiet of my thoughts: “The men who served the stag were granted power, even though no such service appeared necessary to earn it. Therefore, perhaps the other beings of this third kind might likewise share their strength with us mortals—so that I might face the princes, their followers, and the rest of the lion’s descendants on more equal terms, or at least with markedly better odds. The chances of survival, of success, would rise dramatically.”

  The moment the woman of fire saw me step forward and interrupt, she flared. The flames of her hair and garments surged upward, nearly licking the ceiling. Only the delicate tips of her fingers and the contours of her face still faintly recalled her human shape. Fear seized me; I took a timid step backward, as though regretting my boldness or reconsidering it entirely. She advanced in turn, but Petros halted her, placing his body between us as a barrier.

  “No,” he said firmly, “do not touch him. We need him. He is the descendant—only through him can we leave this island, can I and our children escape this island.” Then, softer: “Calm yourself. Quell your flames. He does not know—he cannot know—what he is saying. He has not lived what we have lived, nor borne the consequences of what you endured.”

  The woman subsided, her intensity ebbing, though her gaze still pinned me with sullen fire.

  “So what I proposed is possible,” I pressed on. “Why do you refuse to let me use this power? I, too, am afraid—I tremble—even after all this training, I tremble at the thought of returning to that road, with the wolf lying in wait for any chance to tear me apart. How am I to face so many enemies when my only ally is hope?”

  The woman of fire looked to Petros and gave him a small nod, as though granting him permission to speak and silence my questions. It was clear I irritated her—most likely for the same reason everyone here despised the lion’s descendants: because of what we are, the worst of the worst.

  “I have no wish to go into details,” Petros said curtly, almost threateningly. “I am no storyteller. So listen to what we will do. Tomorrow Stas and I go fishing; the day is yours—free. In our family, Kalli has always been the one who loved to read. She knows these things better than any of us. I will ask her to sit with you and explain everything. For now, I ask you to go upstairs and grant me a few moments of quiet with my wife—whom I have not truly seen in many years. Are we agreed?”

  “Yes,” I answered with a single word, swallowing hard.

  “Then go. What are you waiting for?” This time he raised his voice.

  I had not realized I stood frozen for several seconds. At his shout I bolted up the stairs and shut myself in my room. I curled on the bed and reflected on how brazen I had been downstairs. Not long ago I would never have dared such a thing. I felt myself changing, acquiring courage. This world was making me something altogether different from what I had been—or perhaps revealing what I might have become all along. The worst strain of my ancestors still ran in my blood, yet perhaps there was something good as well. My father and mother had refused to sacrifice me to save themselves, and I was their child. Perhaps I was not so irredeemably wicked after all. Comforted by these thoughts, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

  The next morning I descended for breakfast and found Stas and Petros at the table, talking. Nothing grave, for when I approached they did not change the subject—only preparations for fishing. I sat down to eat, and Petros turned toward me.

  “I spoke with Kalli this morning. I told her to explain everything to you, to leave out no detail, and she agreed. She said to tell you that you know where she will be, so go and find her there. Oh—and one more thing. Stop asking about the curses on the other inhabitants. The only ones who can perceive them are those who live in this house, Eftis, and the heads of the council. No one else can sense them, no matter how plainly they unfold before their eyes.”

  I nodded obediently and continued eating. I avoided meeting his gaze, ashamed after the previous night’s events. Stas watched me with something like pity, though he said nothing in his father’s presence. He rose, cleared the plates, and the two of them departed for the harbor.

  Petros’s hands were covered in gloves, but the pain was evident. When I stepped outside, I glanced toward the harbor and saw the strain on his face as he pushed the boat into the water. I had never seen him struggle so. Once they had set out onto the lake with the others, I turned the opposite way and headed toward the cave.

  This time my steps were surer, quicker. I felt liberated, almost weightless. The moment he had told me the night before that I would speak with Kalli again, an unexpected joy had flooded me. Yet before I reached the cave, another surprise awaited. The wolf emerged from the water and brought his muzzle close to my body in threat. He opened his jaws, displaying his teeth. Thick saliva dripped from fangs sharp and bloodied, reminding me of the first night I beheld his terrifying form.

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  He no longer terrified me as he once had—I had grown somewhat accustomed to him—yet I did not know what would happen when our pact ended. He had never promised to honor Petros’s and Eftis’s plan; quite the contrary. He waited only for the right moment to destroy me.

  “Did I not tell you never to come near here again, eh?” the wolf growled.

  “Yes, but I did not come of my own accord. Kalli summoned me to speak with her. I took no such initiative myself.”

  “Listen carefully, young lion. I know she called you. I waited for you to arrive. But know this: if anything happens to Kalli or to Stas because of you, I will honor no agreement between us. I will hunt you wherever you go, even at the cost of my own life. I will respect her wish, and there I draw the red line. If you dare, step across it.”

  With those words he vanished once more beneath the lake’s surface. I closed my eyes briefly and drew two deep breaths. When I opened them again, I saw blue and white pairs of eyes watching me from the forest—watching more intently, or so it seemed. As I wondered whether danger truly lurked, Eftis’s voice rang out from above, atop the cliff.

  “Have you no business guarding the road and slaying newcomers? What are you doing here—come to watch a beggar struggle to survive?”

  They gave no answer, so he laughed and raised his middle finger toward them.

  “This for your trouble and your gift of immortality to me.”

  The eyes melted back into the darkness. I looked up; Eftis looked down at me.

  “Go where you must go. No one will trouble you while I remain upon the island.”

  He disappeared from sight, and I continued toward the cave. As I drew near, Kalli’s shadow flickered among the candles, whose unsteady light wavered not from wind but because some needed replacing. She still knelt before each skull, tending it, cleaning it, then moving to the next. All the while, a gentle melody flowed from her lips—neither joyful nor sorrowful, as though it existed only to fill the emptiness carved by loneliness and silence.

  I paused at the entrance, half-hidden, and watched her. Her cropped hair now framed her lovely face more sharply, and her slender, curved form was enough to make any young man of my age pause in admiration—even in desire. And I had desired her; I could not lie to myself. Yet the wolf’s words recalled me to reason. I took a few quiet steps—quiet as possible so as not to disturb her—but she soon noticed and turned her attention to me. She rose from the ground and approached.

  “I see what you learned was not enough,” she said. “You want more—still more to know. Do you not trust that I told you everything you needed? Why burden your mind with further information?”

  “Because I want to understand what surrounds me. So many strange things happen. Your father called them curses, and they frighten me. Most are horrifying, and unfortunately they repeat. And another thing: if something lodges in my mind, I cannot easily dislodge it until I uncover its truth or decide it no longer concerns me. Right now, I believe everything concerns me. The more I know, the greater my chances of surviving out there when I return to the road.”

  “Very well,” she said. “What more do you wish to learn beyond what you already know? You may ask me three questions. After my answers, I will accept no further inquiries. What you have learned is what you have learned. From then on, it will be your turn to serve us with your deeds. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Then begin.”

  “What are these beings—like the stag, the old man at the bridge, and the woman of fire I saw yesterday speaking with your father in your house?”

  “Is that your first question?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then sit down. I suspect what your other questions will be, and their answers are not brief.”

  We both settled on the ground, close enough to one another. I crossed my legs; she drew hers to the side.

  “We call such beings elementals. We do not know the extent of their power, nor how they sustain themselves, nor why they do not—or cannot—overthrow the lion from his throne. We do not know whether they wish us well or ill, nor what they desire from us. All we know is that their strength surpasses ours, that they are eternal in time—or live so long that to us they seem eternal—and that the only way a new one appears is by coupling with a human. Even then, it is not certain the child will belong to the human race or inherit corresponding powers.

  The mightiest of them appears to be the stag, for no other elemental opposed its decision to sunder the world in two, nor did any seem troubled by the ongoing slaughter of humankind. I cannot say with certainty whether this was weakness or indifference. Yet the command of the sun, the nourishment of the entire world with energy, and its ceaseless care—these seem powers few could withstand.

  The stag does not merely symbolize every good; it is every good. Across the thousands of years since the lion seized the throne, cracks have appeared in this world, and at times the creatures of darkness have reached out to return. But then the fireflies rise from the river and seal the fissures, for it seems their command is to protect and illuminate us. All the rest—the errors of human nature and lineage—we must resolve ourselves. That is my favorite interpretation, and thus I choose to see the world.

  Others choose differently, but how can I claim to know better than a being that does not think as I do, yet, even through the sin of my ancestors, chooses to care for me? The old man of the brodge—I do not know what powers he possesses, but he is evidently strong enough that no one can dislodge him from his place or violate his rules. He guards the entrance and exit of this side. Once the princes gathered to defeat him, but in vain. Had he not been amused by the entire affair, he might well have slain them on the spot. He could have killed them, yet he did not. He returned to his rock and reminded them of the rules of the game.

  The third elemental you saw is my mother. She came to the island when my father was still young, and he fell in love with her. Together they had me and Stas, but neither of us inherited powers from her side. Shortly afterward she departed the island, for the inhabitants began to lose their reason. The council convened and decided that henceforth no elemental would be permitted here. They banished her and left us in our father’s care. That is why he refused the leadership of the family. He plans to leave the island to live with her. He loves her more than himself—more, I think, than he loves us. He is prepared to do anything for her; he need only succeed before his body begins to betray him.

  Of other elementals we have only scattered fragments. Most records were burned by the previous council for some reason. In that council sat only the two elders—of the white and the blue. No one else knows what truly transpired then.

  Now for your second question,” she said, a faint smile appeared upon her lips.