“So, he very well could outlive everyone here and just start again?”

“But this didn’t sound like outliving. He said wipe.”

My father’s face appears in my memory like a summoned ghost.

“He’s talking about the Sickness.”

Jue’s brows meet.

“The Sickness is what killed my people before the Central District or any of this ever existed,” I say, my chest a knot. “I don’t know how; my father never knew the ins of outs of the how either. But he suspected the Chancellor was behind the Sickness. It cut the tribe size down by half in less than a month. No one in the village, despite being the only ones with magic, could figure out the cause of it.” I gulp down the lump in my throat. “Then the Chancellor just showed up. Rode in like a white knight saying he’d unearthed his own magic.”

I add air quotes to that part because he stole whatever magic he claimed to have.

“He said he could save them. He stayed in the village for days doing spells, mixing concoctions, but the Elders smelled him for the evil he was. Nothing worked, of course, because he really wanted them to die. He was only playing savior. My people were polite to him so as not to clue him in to their suspicions. But when he left, they fled. My people ran for their lives.” I sniffle.

Julius works his hand into mine and I let him.

“Those that could ran into the mountain, Yiyo. And the Chancellor built this empire out here calling himself Ghizoni. Stealing even our people’s name.”

“I didn’t know the full of it,” he says. “Shit, I’m sorry, Rue.”

“He’s awful,” Bri says. “Growing up, I just knew he had magic and he was generous and kind enough to share it with us at Designation age. The history books say nothing of Rue’s people other than they died because they got sick. I could never have imagined this.”

“Do we know how he passed along the Sickness?” Julius asks. “I mean, if he’s got that as his plan B, we should be learning anything and everything we can about it.”

“I don’t,” I say.

Bri shakes her head. “No idea.”

Julius’s fingers trace around his mouth. “Someone on this island has to remember. Had to have known about what he did. Dirty ones always have people in their pockets that they pay to keep quiet or kill. If he cursed these people like this, someone knew. Someone helped. Someone as old as him. Someone—”

Cursed…

I gasp, steadying myself on the wall.

Oh.

My.

God.

“I-I know who knew,” I say.

“Who?”

“Taavi’s mother—the Seer.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

SHE HAD LOVED SOMEONE.

Could that someone be him?