the curse of dark mountain

Baffled by Erystotle's words, Pyrrhic just looked at the younger boy for several long moments. He studied Ery's pale eyes in the hopes of finding understanding in their mercurial depths. Finding none, he frowned in confusion as his pulse quickened. The promise of at last finding a place to lay his blame was tempting even though the reasonable side of him told him it likely didn't lay with Risen's newest arrival. In the depths of his being Pyrrhic wished for a mortal reason for his family's misfortune; it was a lot easier to be be angry with and blame a flesh-and-blood something than it was to blame an all-powerful invisible god.

Slowly he asked, "What do you mean?" Erystotle hadn't been there. He hadn't pushed the elder Abraxas in or dislodged the wrong rock on the mountaintop, kicking off a chain of events that caused Volkan to break open. As far as Pyrrhic knew, Erystotle had been in Auster and not Boreas, so how could it be his fault? What kind of curse could reach so far?