Arrow Lake bile quartet

mayfair.
mayfair, mayfair
"there is a curse on us, boy," lestan rasped, not hearing the question, toes clutching the ground of the lakeside. it remained to be seen whether or not he might remember this interlude; for now he was all tremor and dilation and the remembered pure terror of the golden bird and the howling cat.
"mayfair is witch. witch is mayfair. the power lives inside, beside the curse." dry lips lapped with an equally parched tongue; "akavir doesn't believe it. how could he? but you must. if you are mayfair then you must find a way to be rid of it."
"or," lestan hissed, "it will follow you to the end of your days. the end!" look at him! a caricature of a man, a shell of a wolf; his fate was that of every mayfair if they did not believe.