William dismounted, guiding Leo towards the circle of townsfolk surrounding Edmund. He scanned the crowd, his gaze settling on Adrian, who met his eyes with a pale, anxious expression. Will thought to go over and ask him what had him so spooked, but Father Edmund's voice cut through, demanding their attention.
Edmund gazed over the crowd and said, "We must consider every possibility. I had a dream—one with a dark omen."
Predictably, Mr. Roman, who'd never been a religious man and who needed more patience for Edmund's sermons, raised his voice.
"This is nothing more than an old wives' tale. How are we supposed to abandon our lives and leave only because of some dream's interpretation?"
William was now sure he'd never heard anything about this before, and his father's absence only deepened his suspicion. Given that Edmund was his father's closest friend, there was no way his father would have remained uninformed.
Father Edmund's long silver hair looked so ordinary, always tied behind him with a cloth matching his dark robe. He used a cane to walk on his crippled leg. His gaze, however, held an unsettling intensity that sent chills down anyone who met it. A confidence, a self-assured certainty in his words, made William uneasy as he struggled to piece together what was going on.
Father Edmund approached Roman, "This is no mere legend. All our ancestors have attested to it. We have all seen the engraved dagger. The graves at Grace Cemetery stand as proof of this truth."
The mention of Grace Cemetery gave William a hint of what was being discussed. Grace was the resting place of the sacred victims sacrificed by the wizard.
This time, Mrs. Lillian spoke up.
"But even if it isn't a legend, it's been hundreds of years since the last sacrifice. No one has seen the wizard since. Perhaps he's dead and won't return."
Lilian was known for her optimism. She was the kind of person who always saw the glass as half-full and left the empty half to fate.
Despite the centuries that had passed and the dreadful rumors surrounding the wizard, no one had ever dared set foot near his abode. The abandoned castle of Mors, where even the rose bushes in the courtyard remained frozen in summer, was enough proof of the castle's curse for those who believed in such things.
Edmund sighed deeply, his frustration clear, though he kept his composure.
"We all know the answer to that," he replied. Then approached a young girl playing beside the bubbling spring of Shining River, took her hand, and brought her before the crowd. Kneeling before her, he stroked her silver-braided hair, offering a gentle smile that contrasted sharply with his recent tension.
"Ava, do you know the Song of the Ozhem Wizard?"
The girl nodded.
"Can you sing the second part aloud for us?"
Ava nodded again, and in a soft, delicate voice, she began to sing:
No one knew his deepest secret,
Nor the genuine desire he sought to meet.
The wizard of Ozhem sought one thing,
A warm embrace, a love's sweet cling.
One day, in the fields, he found his fate,
With just one look, he rushed to meet his mate.
A blacksmith who forged swords with skill,
A beauty who lost his heart at will.
But the beauty had a fragile heart,
A bitter fate, a life soon to part.
His death brought sorrow to the wizard's core,
Turning his pure heart to darkness evermore.
He spiraled into madness, consumed by grief,
Killed his emotions, cast upon himself a curse so deep.
For years, he was imprisoned in his keep,
Fell into a deep slumber, never to wake from sleep.
But the wizard breathed again,
On the day his love was reborn, in a mortal plane.
Yet the wizard…
The girl hesitated, struggling to remember the rest or perhaps nervous under the watchful eyes around her. William, eager to hear what the priest would say next, picked up where she left off:
Yet, the wizard had no feelings left,
No pure heart, no smile bereft.
On the day spring turns to winter,
On the day, the skies are painted red with pain.
The wizard will awaken once more,
revealed will be his love for the sacrifice he adored.
The sacrifice will smile, with a dagger in hand,
Pierce the heart where emotions once spanned.
The wizard will drink the blood of his beloved,
And once again, his madness will be uncovered.
While famous and beloved, the tale of the wizard was sad and almost unbelievable. Though he had heard it countless times, William never wished to believe it was anything more than a legend. How could anyone be so heartless and yet so hopeless?
Father Edmund smiled though his eyes held a deep sorrow.
"The wizard awakes only when his beloved is reborn. This winter has arrived earlier than ever. It's destroying our crops. I am plagued with visions, strange dreams, and the dagger... it's changing color."