Page 41

Before he left for his office, he asked if I would be joining him in the workshop afterward. I dearly wished to go, to escape to that secret world, but Ana’s words about the wolf still haunted my mind. I told him I was feeling a little tired, that I needed to get some rest. I’m not sure if I imagined it, but he looked disappointed. It wasn’t until I returned home that I realized I had forgotten to return Ana’s necklace.

And now I sit here, with the candles casting shadows on the walls and your book of remedies open beside me. I wish you were here to tell me I am wrong about my conjecture, but writing it all out, I cannot escape the fact that the symptoms all match:

sudden unexplainable sickness

the smell of festering flesh

muscle aches and fatigue

a mysterious chill permeating the home

visions of a black wolf—a manifestation of the Devil

It is just like the wine merchant from Silba. The one whose son specifically traveled here, asking for your aid. It was so long ago—I believe I was but seven years old. I can still recall the journey—it felt like an adventure, going to another island. His home smelled too of rotting fruit, like in Lavender House. He too dreamed of a prowling wolf.

Could it be, Majko? Could Ana truly be cursed with the Evil Eye?

Tomorrow, I must perform the test with coal and holy water to find out, the same one you did with the merchant.

But who could have done this to her?

Your notes say this:

Many believe the Evil Eye’s curse to be the work of witches, but it can be cast by anyone, intentionally or not, harboring strong feelings of envy or malice toward another. It is the Devil’s influence, and therefore, the temptation to give in to such thoughts must be avoided.

Anyone. While Ana is lovely, I can imagine that her family’s wealth has probably inspired plenty of envious feelings. And not to mention Marko’s unlikable character. I wonder why I didn’t think of this sooner, but I suppose a part of me didn’t want to consider anything darker at play.

I have studied your notes on how to detect it: Drop three pieces of burning coal into holy water. If the coal floats, all is well. But if the coal sinks, the person has been cursed. The more that fall, the stronger the curse.

As for exorcising it . . . that seems a ghastly affair. I can understand why you did not wish to perform it on the wine merchant. If anything went wrong, rumors could spread. Still, it was the first time I ever saw you go against your guiding principle, to always help those in need. Though you didn’t say it, I knew you were thinking of Nera, burned at the stake. Even now, I hear her screams echoing in the night. I felt sorry for the merchant at the time, but now I understand.

Lie low. Don’t stir trouble.

Please, God, let the similarities only be a coincidence. For if Ana is truly cursed with the Evil Eye, then I am in trouble indeed.

Sixteen

Petra

June 2026

It’s past midnight and I still haven’t gone to bed.

I slump on the couch in the living room, attempting to edit photos for work. Trying to imagine I’m in the sunny Napa winery on my screen rather than here. Beyond the glow of my laptop, the house creaks like a knotted spine and shadows dance languidly along the walls. To my left, Marko and Ana Klarin’s unforgiving stares press like a weight from across the room.

My eyelids droop, but I force them open. I know I can’t stay awake all night, but I fight the urge to sleep nonetheless. I need to relax. Get what Davor said off my mind.

A bath. That’s what I need. My mom used to recommend them all the time when I complained about stress at work or poor sleep. They were her one luxury besides designer shoes.

Twenty minutes later, a fragrant mist envelops the bathroom upstairs as the tub fills with rosy-hued water, thanks to a lavender bath bomb I’d discovered in one of the cabinets. I lower myself slowly into the tub, inhaling deeply as steam wraps around me.

I close my eyes, savoring the lush warmth lapping at my skin. Gradually, the tension in my body melts away, replaced by a drowsy calm.

As I teeter on unconsciousness, a faint buzzing sound vibrates in my ears. My eyes shoot open, but all I see is a soft, white haze filling the room. Dismissing it, I let them fall shut once more.

In the darkness of my mind, the hallway appears.

As the familiar wailing hits me, my body goes rigid. Something is different now; the photographs lining the walls are sharper, more defined. To my right, a young boy grins at the camera, his foot propped on a soccer ball. He’s lankier than I know him now, but his soft brown eyes are the same.