Behind Sefron, the Swamp Witch cackled. She stood with her hands on her broad hips, her toady lips spread wide into a knowing smirk. “You three think you know everything,” she croaked. “Oh, but you don’t know a thing about—”

“Hush!” Sefron raised a hand in front of her face as though prepared to slap her. The Swamp Witch rolled her eyes and stepped back to lean against one of the high-backed chairs.

“And you.” Sefron turned his yellow gaze to Evin. “You were quite ready to leave everything behind to go on a grand adventure. Didn’t even hesitate. Said you couldn’t wait to escape the orphanage’s walls.” The man’s eyes flashed gold again, and a sharp pain lanced through Evin’s mind.

A memory flashed in his brain: Sefron was in front of him at the orphanage, explaining what would happen to him within the wall. He saw himself, eyes wide with wonder, readily agreeing to join the so-called campaign at the risk of never seeing his home again. No questions asked.

Only, Evin knew that memory couldn’t be true. Because though he was an orphan, Evin wasn’t alone. Another memory bubbled up, that of his friend Marten. He’d never leave on some grand adventure without his true best friend by his side. Not unless he was forced to.

Evin steeled his features and looked into Sefron’s yellow eyes. “You’re lying,” he said. “You’re manipulating our memories again, delaying us until you can kill the chimera, erase our memories once more, and throw us back to fight more monsters for your amusement.” Evin threw his hand in the direction of the table and its many parchments scribbled with numbers. “We won’t let you go back to trapping kids like us inside this wall and taking bets on our lives.”

The wizard raised his sharp eyebrows and looked at Bet. “I see you’ve been giving away some secrets,” he said to her.

“Yes,” she said back. “These campaigns are wrong. I told you that. I don’t want anymore to do with any of this.”

From the table, the Swamp Witch cackled once more. “Is that what you think this is about? Nothing is what it seems, little girl.”

“Silence!” Sefron bellowed. He rounded on the Swamp Witch, his black robes swirling around him. Producing a spindly wand from the folds of his robe, he pointed it at the old woman. A great bolt of yellow light flashed and the Swamp Witch dived over the table, screeching.

“Darling, you know I love you,” Sefron said as he lowered his wand. “But you really need to learn when to keep your mouth shut.”

From underneath the table, the Swamp Witch laughed.