Prologue: The Vanity of Blood Dear Diary, They say beauty is pain. I say beauty is hunger. Tonight, the moon hangs low over Obsidian Bay, reflecting on the black water like a coin I intend to steal. I checked the mirror three times. My skin is porcelain, my eyes a trap of emerald green, my lips the color of a fresh wound. It is a lie, of course. Beneath this silk illusion, I am ancient. I am starving. But tonight, I will feed, and tomorrow, I will be the most beautiful thing this wretched town has ever seen.