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The next few pages were a series of diagrams. I had to squint to make out Elvira’s untidy scrawl. Like the previous pages, I wrote down the words legibly and then gazed at the drawings, trying to make sense of them.

After a few moments, my pulse thundered, horror and despair roiling through me.

They were diagrams of a Wolven Mage’s organs.

I closed my eyes, covering my mouth with my hand, certain I was going to be sick. My breathing turned to ragged wheezes as I struggled to get enough air.

She’d cut him open… she’d cut him open just to see what he looked like on the inside.

Even knowing this Mage had killed my mother, I still couldn’t bring myself to accept the torture he’d endured for so many years.

Oh, gods. I didn’t know if I could keep going.

It’s all right, Cerise, said the voice in my head. You can do this. I know it’s hard, but you can do this.

I inhaled deeply three times, allowing my pulse to settle. According to Elvira’s findings—I shuddered at the thought—a Wolven Mage had two hearts: one for the man, and one for the wolf. They beat together as one, as they shared the same valves to pump blood.

And the Mage could still survive if one of those hearts was removed.

Elvira had removed one of the hearts by accident, thinking she had killed him. But, in his wolf form, if the human heart was removed, the Wolven Mage was unaffected. However, if the wolf’s heart was even nudged a small amount, it caused the wolf to have seizures and eventually lose consciousness.

A gasp of agony rippled through me. It was too horrible. Too horrible.

This continued for hours. I had to take several breaks to clear my head or to scream into my pillow. After reading over one particularly graphic diagram of a Wolven Mage’s stomach and what specific things he would eat when starved for several days, I had to pause to vomit in the chamber pot.

But with each page, the flames of my fury burned brighter. Hotter. And I was determined to uncover everything. No matter how gruesome. No matter how monstrous.

I was doing this for Alaric, but also for myself. For years, I’d wanted to know the truth. And here it was.

I refused to hide from it.

When I opened the second journal, the first few pages were in the witches’ tongue again.

It has been three months, and the Wolven Mage has finally given me his name: Silas. He claims to be from the royal family, but I don’t believe him. He also claimed to have been in love with my Rowenna, but this is most certainly a lie. A Wolven Mage is incapable of love. Their kind is only able to destroy. If he truly loved her, he would have let her live.

I froze, staring hard at Elvira’s words.

The royal family.

Holy shit. Could that be true?

No, of course it couldn’t. Surely, someone on the Isle would have known if a royal had gone missing. Had turned into a Rogue.

But… it would explain why the Wolven Mage had the royal amulet on him. Had he perhaps stolen it, and claimed to be a royal to protect himself? Or to intimidate Elvira into letting him go?

With a shake of my head, I kept reading.

He is more comfortable in his wolf form, I’ve noticed. He is able to heal much more quickly. The wolf side is particularly vicious while the man is more feeble. It is obvious there are two separate entities to a Wolven Mage. He is not a man who can turn into a wolf; he is a man who shares a soul with a wolf.

There is no way to separate the two. While I can remove the human heart for a time, eventually the wolf becomes dormant and comatose. Only by replacing the heart and allowing him to heal can he be well again.

The elixir I’ve prepared can only suppress the wolf and mask its scent, making the subject smell wholly human. I was hoping to find a way to free the wolf, but it is not possible. The wolf and the man are forever intertwined.

I am watching the child closely, to see if she exhibits signs of the wolf. Perhaps, because it is only half of her bloodline, she will be spared.

I frowned, my skin prickling with unease. Child? What child? Dread pooled in my gut as I continued.

She has already exhibited signs of witch magic, that much is certain. I only hope Cerise is able to cling to her mother’s heritage and sever all connection to her father’s despicable nature for good.