The child made no move to leave Kalli’s arms. It did not wish to be left alone again among enemies—and I call them enemies because not one member of the council regarded it with kindness, not even Eftis.

  Only after Kalli’s repeated gentle coaxing did the child finally allow itself to be persuaded. It slipped from her embrace and stepped toward the center of the square. A ripple of unease passed through everyone present. The two elders had already withdrawn a few paces from the very middle, though they remained within the circle.

  “Come then,” said the elder dressed in blue. “Prove to us that you are different, that your words carry any weight at all. In a few moments the child will revert to its former state, and none of us will be safe any longer.”

  I rose without hesitation, approached with steady purpose. The child looked terrified. Its shadow had already begun to flicker and stir, as though waking from a long, uneasy slumber.

  As I drew near I offered it a soft smile, the same one I had used so many times to reassure it that I would keep the promise I had made. When I was close enough I dropped to one knee, laid a hand gently on the crown of its head and murmured:

  “Now it is your turn to show that you are strong, that you can keep your word.”

  “I can’t give you just a part of the shadow and not the whole of it,” the child whispered. “I’m afraid of the people around me. I think they want to hurt me. That’s how it feels.”

  Its small hands clutched the hem of its shirt and tugged downward; its face flushed crimson and remained fixed on the ground, refusing to meet my eyes.

  “No,” I told it quietly. “A little is not enough. We cannot risk it escaping again. But do not be afraid—it will never truly leave your side. The moment it senses real danger near you, or the moment you grow old enough and strong enough to hold control yourself, it will return to you of its own accord. Please, do me this kindness so we can seal the agreement and stop putting lives in peril.”

  The child stretched out both arms and grasped my hands. Still it would not look up. A black liquid began to flow from its palms onto mine. It pierced my skin, seeped into my flesh. The pain was fierce—sharp enough to twist my features—but nothing I had not already endured, especially during those brutal sessions with Petros.

  When it was finished I stood and addressed them all:

  “Now this child has no means to harm you. Every scrap of malice inside it I have taken into myself, and I can contain it where it belongs. More than that—I can wield it to complete my mission and set you free from the prison in which you are held.”

  Power coursed through my veins like dark wine. From my fingertips black droplets sprang forth; with a thought I shaped them into a coiling guardian of smoke that hovered protectively above my head.

  “The monster that once hunted you, the monster that killed me—it now answers to me.”

  I willed the wet mass to move again. It swirled around my body, swelled until it encircled the entire council. Terror flashed openly across their faces, yet none of them fled their places.

  Eftis gave a nervous, lopsided smile—as though he had stumbled upon an unexpectedly perfect outcome without lifting a finger, as though fresh paths had suddenly opened in his schemes. He rose, still smiling, and said:

  “Bravo, bravo. Now even if they wanted to be rid of you, they cannot. You have become more terrifying than the curse itself.”

  “You are not my master,” I answered. “Whatever I do, I do for the sake of these people who cared for me when you cast me helpless onto the road. I saw the fear in your own eyes when the shadow surrounded you. Do not pretend to be brave. You understand perfectly well that you are no longer in command—neither of me nor of this conversation.”

  “Little lion,” Eftis replied, “if elemental power alone were enough to topple princes so easily, none of us would be standing here. I am genuinely astonished by the strength you have just received—one of the most remarkable I have ever witnessed—but you still cannot stand before me and threaten me.”

  The thoughts moved through my mind with calm swiftness; I allowed no silence to stretch between us.

  “I am needed. The inhabitants need me. The monsters in the forest need me. The elementals need me. If I choose to threaten you, I will. I serve no one except those who gave me shelter, to whom I return kindness, and the deer that transformed me. Beyond that I follow only my own desire—so long as it does not clash with my obligations and my promises.”

  “Ha ha ha ha!” Eftis laughed. “The matter grows even more interesting. Yet however much I might wish to watch you return to the road and bring this whole circus to an end, I would not hesitate to kill you here and now. You see, the end of the world is the only uncertain future for me—not the preservation of what we have. Even if I remained alone, I would continue to exist and find ways to amuse myself.”

  “You lie, and everyone here knows it—as do you. In your confusion you made one mistake. You agreed never to set foot on the island again, in exchange for permission to let me finish my training and for the two elders to sacrifice their lives. And I, in turn, pledge my own life should I ever betray the kindness of the island’s people or the sacrifice of those two old men. Your choices are few. Even if you could kill me this instant, you will not—because you are weary, because you are bored of skulking forever in shadows. It would be wise, therefore, to begin treating with respect the man who is about to risk his life to cover your own inadequacy.”

  He said nothing more, though fury burned plainly in his gaze. In another moment he might have struck me down. Yet he was right: even now the princes held far greater power than I. Even at the end of my training I would remain incomplete before them, I already knew that, it was an obvious matter.

  The two elders approached. After they had examined the child, they embraced it with tears in their eyes. Later I learned that the council kept secret records of everyone who had become a curse—at least of those they could identify with certainty.

  Then the elder in white came to me, while the elder in blue went to Eftis. Both drove their knives into their own hearts. Blood poured onto the earth and traced a circle around our feet. After that I remember little. My mind clouded. When awareness returned I was in my bed again, three days later, according to Stas.

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  Some time passed before I could stand once more and resume training. Kalli no longer visited the cave so often; it seemed even the elementals that haunted the island’s edges had withdrawn. Eftis, too, had vanished—though he may simply have disguised himself once more and watched us from the shadows.

  Yet life on the island continued. The two families that had lost council members were succeeded by their designated heirs: one a tall man of about fifty with white hair and pale eyes, the other a stocky man of thirty-five or so, brown-haired and powerfully built.

  Moreover, Eftis had left the Sword of the Lion with Stas, who told me he would keep it until I completed my training—if I completed it. Otherwise he would send someone else, hoping the next would prove more capable and luckier than I, and so deliver them all. He said Eftis departed the island with bowed head and never looked back.

  In those days the Wolf also passed through. A sly smile and one of his bone-chilling laughs marked the island for perhaps ten minutes. Terrified inhabitants shut themselves inside their homes; the fireflies, for as long as that dreadful laughter echoed, refused to approach. Only the Wolf’s red eyes glowed—twin stars—while the torches around him guttered out from the sheer force of the sound. He reared his enormous body until it seemed to lick the sky.

  Though members of every family trained me in the months that followed, some clearly wished me to fail—or trained me with murderous intent. More than once I wanted to give up; more than once they brought me so close to death that I genuinely wished I had died earlier.

  Within the town itself accusing stares pinned me wherever I went, so I appeared in public as little as possible. Shops barred me at the door. Stas’s friends no longer came near me, nor did Kalli’s girlfriends. I was never sure whether they chose to avoid me or were compelled to do so. In the end my only company became the two red-haired siblings—who, because of my presence in their home, had themselves been partly ostracized by the island.

  The little boy remained on the island for a short while. Three months later his father arrived and sat with him. After a week the child decided to follow his father into the forest. He came to bid me farewell. His father kept his distance, offering only thanks from afar before turning away. But the boy threw his arms around me with tears of joy and thanked me for finally freeing him from the nightmare he had lived. He told me the power he had given me would remain with me as long as I lived, because elementals cannot reclaim what they have bestowed.

  He embraced Kalli and Stas warmly too, thanking them for protecting and defending him against the island’s most formidable warriors. He ate one last meal with us, then vanished into the forest’s darkness.

  As I said, my companionship had narrowed to Kalli and Stas. In time the siblings grew more honest with me about their intentions. One night Kalli confessed that her father had persuaded her she must bind me emotionally, make me fall in love with her, so as to lessen the chance I would betray them. He had not forced her; the decision whether to carry it out had been hers. And I can say she succeeded—even if she later ceased to pursue the plan. Had a full year passed in her company the scheme would have been complete.

  In truth the plan worked even after she abandoned it. The remaining months until I left the island became a memory I would carry alive through the rest of my journey: the warmth of their home, their companionship, her beautiful red hair that I watched grow longer, her lovely eyes, her graceful body, the smile she hid behind her hands unless a joke was so good that laughter burst from her, her constant care and worry for my health and my purpose. It does not take much more than that for a man to fall in love with a woman.

  Fortunately, in the end I completed my training and received the council’s approval: I was deemed worthy to represent the House of the Lion. The time came when I had to depart. I asked permission to stay one final week, simply to sit beside Kalli and Stas. They granted it, though not without protest. That week will remain with me for the rest of my life.

  Kalli rejected my feelings. Stas laughed when he heard. For a few more days I was confined to their house. I visited the cave once, hoping the deer might summon the fireflies so I could see again the only prince who ever defied his father—but the chance was not given. I carried our family’s knightly sword with me; I had wanted to show it to him, to make him feel glad and proud of his choice and of me, though I knew he needed no such thing, dwelling now in a better place.

  Before leaving I went to Petros to thank him for everything he had given me. I stayed with him a long while and spoke all my thoughts, everything I had achieved and everything I still hoped to accomplish. I lost track of time. At the harbor the inhabitants waited to make certain I would go.

  Kalli found me. She found me before Petros’s grave, drinking a beer and talking to myself. He had not survived the battle in the square. The wound was too grave; the blood he lost would not let him live. He never managed to say goodbye to his children, never reached the hospital. Loupos still blames himself and waits for Stas to finish his own training so he can replace him on the council. After that, he said, he would disappear into the forest along with the shame he carries.

  She sat with me a little while, then stood and led me to the harbor. All eight knights waited among the trees. Their eyes gleamed. The people kept their distance—even the council members. No one met my gaze. Loupos was absent; probably drinking again somewhere and causing trouble.

  Stas and Kalli rowed me to the far shore in their boat. On board Stas handed me the Sword of the Lion and wished me success in the fight ahead. Now I was alone once more.

  I stepped ashore. Kalli called after me.

  “Wait,” she said.

  She took my hands. I felt the same power that had flooded me when the child gave me its strength flowing into me again.

  “You will carry two companions with you—two people who wish you to succeed, who wish they could follow you. And know that they wish one day you will return, tell them the stories of what you have lived, and smile together with them beneath true light.”

  I turned and looked back at the island’s people. Fireflies had settled upon them, as though saluting me. They remained far off, watching. I raised the sword high and uttered the loudest cry I could muster, trusting they would hear it.

  Stas and Kalli returned to the island. I waited until their feet touched the shore, then stepped into the forest once more. As I neared the trees a woman emerged—the same form I had seen before. It was Kalli’s and Stas’s mother. Smoke curled from her mouth with every breath. She did not lift her eyes to me; she only gazed at her children and said:

  “If the road does not kill you, even if you achieve your purpose in the end, I will make sure I kill you myself. For now I let you go—because the elders sacrificed their lives—but you will not enjoy your own. Petros was supposed to be freed from his bonds; he was not supposed to die. That is why he brought you here.”

  I gave her no answer. I let her fade back into the trees. Then, after a moment, I took timid steps toward the knights’ glowing eyes.

  “Little lion,” the Wolf said, “for now we will humor our descendants. But the moment your foot treads the road again, you become a target once more. Do not forget it.”

  Neither he nor any other creature of the forest spoke again.

  They escorted me back to the place where I had first entered, on the opposite side. Once more I lost count of time and of the hours I slept among the trees. I had wrapped the hilt of the sword so the lion could not be seen, and packed my bag carefully with suitable gear and a little food—nothing excessive, so as not to become a tempting mark.

  My foot touched the frozen road again. Moonlight washed over my face. The castle, as though it had grown hungrier in my absence, appeared even more distant and vast than before.

  “Why have you brought me back to the same spot?” I asked the Wolf. “Why not farther ahead?”

  “Because this is a game,” he answered, “and the masters can tell when someone cheats and when they do not. If you do not wish to be noticed, you must continue according to the rules they have set, little lion.”

  I armed my mind with courage and walked on. Once again every eye vanished from the forest—save the red ones and the Wolf’s ceaseless breathing behind me, forever reminding me of my fate, my mission, and the weight of the choice I had made.