Chapter One

Spilling the blood of the monster that haunts the Condemned Cliffs will save you from your cursed fate.

Oracles were hated for many reasons. They were heretics; they did not revere the three-faced goddess.

But worst of all, they were never wrong.

Esmae lifted one of the last three cards her mother enchanted before dying.

It cast a magic over her eyes, highlighting the path in front of her. She slid it back into her deck, hiding the illegal card between her more benign ones and continued her climb. It was more habit than necessity at this point. She'd be sentenced to death if she was caught with oracle cards… but she was already well on her way to dying from the curse .

Not that anyone would find her here. No one went to the cliffs. In a country surrounded by vampires on three sides, people should've been eager for any way out, but whatever creature lived in the fourth was so terrible, no one dared.

Except for a witch with no other option. A witch who had been cursed by her ex-lover.

The thought of Jared soured her mood, so she pushed it aside and continued on. The curse was already taking its toll, the journey fatiguing her. The mountain offered a beautiful view of her village in the distance. Even the rock itself was lovely. More than simple browns and grays, there were sleek peaks of shiny black rock forming a patchwork along the trail. They would be striking in sunlight, but even with the overcast sky they were lovely.

In her youth, she had loved climbing, but as she grew older, her father discouraged it, saying it wasn't ladylike and that she should spend her time weaving for their business .

Esmae hated weaving, but she hated seeing her father go hungry from failing to earn enough at the market even more.

So weaving it was. Until the curse.

She could've told him about the curse, but there was no cure to be found in their small village. Her only hope was to follow her mother's forbidden magic, and hope her fate included a cure to the curse.

She continued forward, the ground uneven under her feet. She would make it. Nothing would stop her.

Then came the rain.

It started as a drizzle. Easy enough to ignore, even if it made the fall chill all the more potent. But the storm grew wilder, water falling in fat drops, soaking her through. There wasn't so much as an overhang to duck into, at least not that she'd seen in the past half hour. Surely, there would be something soon. She cursed herself for not having bartered magic from a pyromancer to keep her warm, but the only pyromancer in the village was a prick and he charged a prince's fortune for his cards .

So, no, she didn't have any warm magic to comfort her as she continued on her quest. But so what? Her whole life, the odds had been stacked against her. It wouldn't stop her from finding her fate.

Another step forward.

Another.

She might have made it to the top of the mountain on sheer determination alone.

But then her weakened foot slipped on the slick stone, her body suddenly and frantically falling.

Tumbling down, down, down.

The last she heard was a terrifying roar before everything went black.

Esmae woke with a start. To her surprise, she wasn't bleeding out at the bottom of a ravine, though by the pounding of her head she had definitely fallen. She was on something soft, in fact. Some kind of makeshift bed. Confusion muddied her thoughts, her head still aching. She forced her eyes open. Above her, in low lighting, was a cave ceiling. She had made it inside the Condemned Cliffs somehow.

She shifted her head to the side, trying to take in more of her surroundings.

Immediately, her gaze met two twin glowing red points.

Eyes that could belong to only one creature.

The mortal enemy of witches: a vampire.

The urge to scream hit her. She bit down on it. She wasn't particularly powerful for a witch, but she was a quick thinker.

"Where am I?" she groaned. She drew out the sound, putting a hand against her head to draw the creature's attention while her other hand searched her pockets for a weapon under the cover of the blanket.

Why was she covered in blankets? That was the real question.

"You're in my mountain," the vampire replied.

For a moment, she was surprised he'd bothered to reply, but she hid it, eyeing him. His voice was lightly accented in a way that was all too intriguing to a girl who had never ventured more than a day's journey from her village .

"Yours?" she asked.

"Mine," he confirmed.

The monster of the Condemned Cliffs is a vampire.

A monster she hadn't been sure she could face. A vampire—well, she might still be in real trouble. But a vampire could bleed, if you had the right tools. As Esmae did. She forced herself to keep her gaze trained on the vampire while she cobbled together a plan through her pounding headache.

"Why?" she asked.

The vampire drew a step closer. "Why what?"

"Why did you save me?"

A long moment passed between them. Then— "Because it pleased me."

Probably because if she bled out on the mountain, he couldn't drink all her blood. She fought to keep her expression guileless. The vampire didn't seem to regard her as a threat at the moment. His posture was relaxed, even as he seemed to take up most of the small cavern. Because she was an injured female? Or because she was mortal, nothing more than a plaything for the immortal creature ?

She wished her magic was more useful. A wish she'd had a hundred times throughout her life. But no, she couldn't count on her magic to save her. She rubbed fingertips to her temple again, then swung her legs out to stand. The vampire was three paces away. Her legs were water filled, so she didn't fight the stumble that occurred, even if she'd meant for it to be more of an act.

The vampire, who had been leaning against the wall so casually, lunged. His hands gripped her arms to catch her before she fell.

Esmae struck.

The copper blade was old and flimsy, but it was sharp. It was a weaver's hands that held it, nimble and quick as she drew it right above his heart and plunged the blade in.

There.

Let the beast bleed and set her free of her curse.