PROLOGUE

If you look closely, the eye gives out more than you think. A simple blur becomes something. A light becomes a shape. A world becomes colorful. There are a certain people who know this better than anyone else.

They see what others don't have the heart to see. What others can't see. In a small town nestled in the mountains, there's one such creature. A legend becomes reality, no longer a dream, but a nightmare whenever you open your eyes.

They accept bargains, deals. Sell your soul, and you'll receive much in return: when and how.

They all look the same: pale hair, gray eyes that seem so hollow and lifeless. When they sense the presence of their own kind, they tend to . . . group up. And together, they wail into the night as someone — someone who might be to close to you — dies.

They seek the answer to the prophecy, one foretold many centuries before it began to unfold.

the daughter of a hag
who comes to find
her one true love
a grandson of the master
some say caster

Now two arrive in a town known as Whitechapel, to seek the one male spellmaster that can make the prophecy come true.

They seek the answer to the hardest question of all: "Are you afraid of dying?"