From publisher blurb:
A pall of smoke clings to the crooked spires of Fortis, the ancient city of stone and sorrow, where the tide-battered cliffs stand like gravestones against the endless sea. It is said that the wind here carries whispers, the echoes of crimes too foul for mortal reckoning. The air itself tastes of iron and old secrets. It is here, in the blackened heart of this fortress-city, that a storm of blood and sorcery is brewing. Witches burn in the plazas, their shrieks swallowed by the jeering mob, but not all condemned are guilty—nor are all the hunters righteous. You, traveller, are but a shadow within this maelstrom. You come not by chance but by unseen design, for the fates have wound their thread about your throat, and the name of Fortis is now etched upon your doom.