Will remembered the agony hitting him the moment he'd seen the symbol, was that a symptom? The word, cursed, it sent a wave of sickness through him that teetered him off balance.
He forced himself to stay focussed. 'Mrs Calibrase - the Evil Eye - I need to know if there was anybody who used it as a motif, and anything about them,'
'Why...' she whispered, gaze downcast, 'why would you wish to know of such people?'
He refused to skate around the subject, 'because they murdered my family.'
She shot him a look of further disbelief, shaking her head fervently, 'no, you are mistaken.'
'I'm not, I remember it -,'
She looked at him with a sympathy that he despised and said, 'Willow, your memories are gone -,'
He balled his fists and grit his teeth, 'not anymore!' He thought he heard her murmur 'impossible' once again, then Mrs Calibrase took him by the shoulders and gave him a firm shake.
'Willow, stop looking for these people.' Her spindly fingers were surprisingly strong and pressed into his muscles hard enough to bruise. Will didn't subdue his hisses of discomfort. 'You may believe that you are doing something noble, but it is martyrdom.These people...the bearers of the Evil Eye...they are the worst spawn of mankind -,'
'If you know who they are, I have a right to know,' he retorted, looking down at her feeble yet formidable person. 'They murdered my family, how could I ever let that go?'
'Your job,' she said vehemently, 'is to remain alive. You must survive to unite the world in peace, what good will petty revenge do Maegard? You have a duty, a responsibility which you cannot just shrug off!'
'If being a royal means forgetting the injustice done to my family - then maybe I don't want to be a royal!' His angry voice reverberated throughout the room, Mrs Calibrase had let go on him and now stood facing him with her fists clenched and at a loss for words.
Then, she backed away from him - almost as if in fear - and trotted as past as she could up the stairs. 'I must speak with Paradam at once,' she murmured frantically to herself, slamming open the classroom doors and hurrying down the corridor as fast as her weathered legs could carry her.