Page 3 of Tower of Ash and Darkness (Tower of Ash #1)

But then came the curse—or so the old wives say.

A celestial event that turned the sky to bleeding black, swallowing the sun and cursing the land beneath.

From that day forward, the balance fractured.

Vampires were driven into the shadows, forced to live beneath the veil of night.

Humans remained tethered to the day, the sun their shield and sanctuary, untouched by the darkness that claimed the rest. And the witches, once many, were reduced to one per generation.

No longer a family. No longer a coven. A single soul born each century to carry the burden of ancient magic alone.

Some believe it was punishment. Others say it was nature finding balance. Whatever the truth, the result remains: a world divided. Vampires by night. Humans by day. And witches—whispers of a cursed past. Most have been erased, burned away like the sun that once touched these lands.

It is not only the ruins of the world that keep me away, but the fear etched into its people.

Humans have always feared magic—feared what a witch born once per generation might bring.

To them, I am not a girl, not a daughter, not even a being worth understanding.

I am a curse. My father forbids me from wandering the human streets not out of care, but to shield me from their hatred.

To them, I am not just a danger, but a threat to balance.

Perhaps that’s the truth of it. That’s why I stayed away.

The ruins of what once was—both in the world and within myself—were too painful to revisit.

I haven’t stepped foot on the human side of the kingdom since then.

The last time I walked streets like these, I was a child—small, frightened, and clinging to my stepmother’s hand as she paraded me through the market.

I remember the harsh whispers, the way people recoiled when they saw my gloved hands, as though even a glance could bring misfortune upon them.

My stepmother had said nothing to comfort me, only tightened her grip until my fingers ached.

“Keep your head down,” she hissed, her voice sharp enough to sting. “You don’t belong among them.”

The memory sends a shiver down my spine. My steps falter as the weight of it presses against me, the same heaviness that’s followed me all my life. The feeling of not belonging is always there—an ache I’ve grown so used to that it feels like a second skin.

Beside me, Sera glows with life. Her wild, bright laughter rings through the quiet night, a sound that seems too free to be real.

Her hair bounces with each step, illuminated by the soft glow of the lanterns above.

She belongs here, in this world full of light and noise, while I.

.. I’ve always existed on the edges, watching, wanting, but never daring to step fully into the warmth.

How I envy her—the way she moves through life without hesitation, without fear.

Even now, her smile pulls me forward, a lifeline to the present.

She doesn’t even realize how much I lean on her light.

But as I watch her, as I feel her presence anchoring me, I can’t help but think of him.

Lucas.

It’s been years since I’ve seen my stepbrother, but Sera has the same unshakable kindness, the same way of pulling me out of my darkness without even trying.

He was my protector, my light in a home shrouded in dread.

Lucas never knew his father—stepmother never spoke of him, not even in passing.

Some whispered he had died young, others that he’d run from the coldness she carried like a cloak.

Whatever the truth, Lucas grew up chasing the shadow of a man he never met, filling the silence with dreams of armor and honor.

Becoming a knight wasn’t just a calling—it was a way to prove he could be more than the absence that raised him.

Maybe that’s why he was always so determined to protect me.

When my stepmother’s disdain for me became too much to bear, Lucas was always there to shield me.

But she hated the bond we shared, her bitterness spilling into cruel actions.

At sixteen years of age, she sent him away to join the Royal Guard, tearing him from me.

I was barely more than a child of ten, left alone with a woman who loathed me and a house that felt as empty as my heart.

The ache of losing him never fully faded, but it’s different now, more like a dull echo that lingers.

He still writes to me now and then, brief letters about his time in the royal guard, but they're no substitute for his presence. At least I have Sera. With her quiet warmth and steady fire, she reminds me what it once felt like to be safe. To be seen .

I shake my head slightly, forcing the memories back where they belong. There’s no room for them here, not tonight. Not when I’m trying to feel alive, even if just for a few stolen hours .

“Are you plotting someone’s downfall over there?” Sera’s voice pulls me back to the present, her hand squeezing mine as she casts me a sideways glance. “You have that look on your face again.”

“What look?” I ask, feigning innocence.

“The I’m-about-to-bury-someone-in-the-woods look,” she quips, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Very inconspicuous for sneaking into a tavern, by the way.”

“Maybe I’m just deciding where to bury you ,” I shoot back, my voice dry but playful. “Right here under the cobblestones has potential.”

Sera gasps in mock offense, pressing a hand to her chest.

“The betrayal! And after all my hard work making us look good tonight?”

“You mean me looking good,” I counter. “You’re just lucky you’re standing next to me.”

Sera beams at me, eyes alight with mischief. “Well, if you killed me now, we might never know if we are to be sisters by marriage in the future.” She nudges me. “You know there aren’t many human men around for me to choose from. What’s a girl to do?”

She’s not wrong.

Sera is the only true human at the vampire court—mortal in every sense, untouched by power. I may look the same, but I’m not. Where Sera is light and laughter, I am something the court fears, something they tolerate only because they must.

I still don’t know why my father gave her to me as a handmaiden.

Maybe it was meant to remind me of what I could have been, had my magic never marked me.

Innocent. Naive. Fragile . Whatever the reason, it no longer matters.

She’s here. And over time, she’s become something I never expected—someone I trust.

I lift a brow at her.

“If only you were so fortunate to marry my stepbrother.”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Please. Lucas would be the fortunate one!”

I nod, smiling. It’s easy to picture them—Sera, brilliant and untamed, Lucas, steady and full of light—running off together, hands entwined, laughing without fear of who might be listening.

They would be free in a way I have never known.

Free to make their own choices, to love without expectation, to step into the sun without the heavy yoke of the past on their shoulders.

And I would watch them go, left behind in the shadow of this castle, tied to a future that was never mine to shape.

The thought is bitter and sweet all at once.

A soft nudge to my ribs pulls me from my thoughts. “Don’t look so tragic, Lailah,” Sera teases, tilting her head. “I would much rather marry you instead.”

I roll my eyes, but a hint of laughter breaks through. Sera loops her arm through mine and tugs me forward.

“Come on, just try not to scowl too much. We’re supposed to be blending in, not auditioning for villain roles.”

“Perfect,” I reply, my grin widening. “I hear villains get free drinks.”

“Not if they bury their best friend under the cobblestones,” she retorts.

Together, we step into the buzzing tavern, the noise and light swallowing us whole.

The air is thick with the scent of spiced ale, roasted meat, and a faint hint of smoke curling from the hearth.

The hum of voices is a lively undercurrent to the fiddle’s cheerful melody, punctuated by bursts of laughter that seem to fill every corner of the room.

Sera inhales deeply, her grin widening as her eyes sweep across the bustling space.

“Finally,” she says, her voice brimming with excitement. “A place with a pulse.”

I pull my hood a little lower as I follow her through the crowd, my steps measured, my head down.

“A little too much pulse,” I mutter under my breath, my voice barely audible over the din.

Sera glances back at me, rolling her eyes. “Oh, come on, Lailah. No one’s paying attention to us. They’re too busy enjoying themselves. ”

“That’s exactly what makes it dangerous,” I reply, scanning the room with a wary eye. “Distractions make it easier for things to go wrong.”

Sera exhales sharply through her nose, about to retort, when a sudden chill prickles at the back of my neck. It’s not the cold draft slipping through the gaps in the wooden walls, nor the usual wariness I carry. It’s something else—something unseen.

My breath stills. The feeling is subtle, like the weight of a gaze pressed against my skin, just heavy enough to make me look up.

I glance around, my pulse quickening as I hunt for the source.

A sea of unfamiliar faces fills the space—laughing, drinking, shouting across tables—some concealed behind masks, others bare and open. Yet none of them are looking at me.

And yet, I feel it. The certainty of being watched.

I turn slowly, searching. The light plays tricks, distorting the edges of figures moving through the tavern. My eyes catch a dark shape in the far recesses of the room, but before I can focus, Sera tugs on my arm, pulling me toward a secluded booth.

“You’re impossible,” she says, dragging me along. “We’re here to blend in, not to brood in a cave. Try to act like you’re capable of fun.”