The Macaslans are thieves, but you’re the only one who remembers that anymore, and Isobel’s sudden stardom makes you realize that no one will remember you. Your black veil had obscured their faces, but there was no mistaking the way that Isobel’s father brought her to the edge of the grave to watch, as if the occasion was a spectacle instead of something tragic. Just months ago, four of them showed up at your uncle’s funeral even though they hadn’t been invited, dressed in white and waiting to steal what was left of him as he was put in the ground. Now Macaslan is a household name that people only ever use to mean Isobel, and it feels as if you’re the only one who cares about what the rest of them are like. Almost immediately after the book was published, Isobel Macaslan was named the champion for her family, and suddenly the reporters fell over themselves to call her a hero or a villain or whatever story sold the most copies. Most days, you comfort yourself by remembering that you hadn’t done it first. You hated it once, but now you’re just as guilty of turning it into a game. That makes the Slaughter Seven their actors, then, the creators of good entertainment at the low expense of their lives.
They look up from their worn copies of A Tradition of Tragedy and whisper amongst themselves as if it’s a work in progress, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to watch the death tournament play out in real time like a theater performance. Cursechasers have flocked to Ilvernath with the rise of the Blood Moon, and the story is ending.
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