Chapter 1

Desire of the Fallen Gods

Nyx had broken into questionable places before—palaces behind towering walls, archives sealed with cryptic locks, tombs of heroes rigged with enough traps to turn a thief into a cautionary tale.
She’d dodged arrows that hissed through the air like lightning, sprinted from roaring guards through collapsing gates, and tumbled out the other side laughing like she’d cheated death itself.
But this time... this time felt different.
The patrol was closing fast, boots hammering against the cobbles, torches flared against the slick, polished stone of Pompeus’s streets, smoke curling in the damp night air.
“Fan out! She’s here somewhere!”
The captain’s voice cracked through the air like a whip.
“She went left—I saw her cloak!” someone shouted back. “Then cut her off at the lower arch! If she hits the docks, we lose her!”
Her lungs burned, heart battering against her ribs. The city twisted around her—narrow lanes and crooked turns looping like a madman’s map.
“Perfect,” she hissed between gasps, scanning for any way out—window, drain, miracle.
Behind her, armour clattered and boots thundered, the shouts of the patrol bouncing off the stone walls.
The moon hung bright above the fog, its silver light slicking the streets in a cold, liquid sheen.
Then she saw it—a break in the wall, low, narrow, half-swallowed by ivy and black slime. Barely a slit wide enough for a desperate woman. It looked like a wound in the city’s skin.
She dropped to her knees, shoved her satchel through first, and crawled after it, the rough stone scraping her palms. The opening smelled like rust, rot, and every bad idea she’d ever chased.
The last thread of moonlight brushed her boots—then vanished.
The dark took her whole.
She wriggled forward, the stone biting her shoulders. Something ripped—her sleeve, maybe her skin—and then the ground disappeared beneath her hands.
Impact slammed up through her boots, sharp enough to rattle her teeth. The world lurched. She hit the ground hard, knees sinking into the damp earth. For a moment she stayed there, crouched low, her pulse roaring in her ears like a tide of blood. The silence pressed in, thick and absolute, broken only by the ragged rasp of her breath and the distant echo of her own heartbeat.

“Well,” she managed, a wry half-smile tugging at her lips. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Though,” she muttered to herself, “I might take that back later.”
Her fingers went to her chest. The scrolls were still there—tucked beneath the leather of her corset, warm against her skin. Dangerous scripture, older than empires and worth more than her freedom.
She already had a buyer waiting in Antalea to the south, a collector who’d promised coin enough to buy her life back twice over.
All she had to do was survive the night. Wait out the hunt. Slip past the guards and get to the damn ship bound for south.
Easy.
Right.
Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness. Slowly, the black bled into shape—rough stone walls slick with moss, faint veins of quartz glowing faintly, as if stirred to life by her presence.
She turned in a slow circle, breath shallow. This wasn’t a cellar. This place was older. The air itself felt thick—ancient—and it pressed against her skin heavy, humming with the slow pulse of something half-awake beneath the stone, waiting to quicken.
Nyx leaned against the nearest arch, breath ragged, lungs raw from the run, listening for the chase above. The sounds of pursuit lingered—distant, muted, echoing through layers of stone. Shouts. Orders. Steel clattering on stone.
Then nothing.
Only the low whisper of wind threading through the cracks she’d fallen from.
“Cowards,” she snapped under her breath. Then, glancing into the yawning dark ahead, added, “Not that I blame them.”
She dug a flint from her belt and struck it once, twice—until a fragile spark caught and a stub of torch flared weakly to life. Shadows shuddered back, revealing where she’d landed.
A small chamber unfolded around her, rough-hewn and ancient. The ceiling arched low, bowed in the center like the ribs of some buried beast. Ahead, the space widened into a throat of blackness the torchlight couldn’t quite reach.
The flame coughed, spat, then steadied—throwing uneven halos of amber across the walls and revealing murals crawling across the stone—faded, gouged, fractured. Once, they must have been glorious. Now they looked more like scars. Murals of kings and priests kneeling before shapes lost to ruin, paint cracked and flaking in claw-like streaks. She must be in one of those ancient temples from the early dynasty, built to please gods who, once satisfied, blessed the land and guided the stars—a place where dawn prayers shaped harvests, and fate hung on the tilt of celestial light.
Nyx tilted her head, squinting at the next wall. “What in the hells...” - she murmured. The scenes twisted darker: offerings laid at an altar, men and women bent low, eyes gouged out, their shadows dancing to a song older than sin. Around them, priests, lost in the heavy incense and rhythmic chant, one by one, lifted stone vessels, pouring red liquid across their tattooed torsos. Their bodies bending in convulsions, consumed by the sacred madness of the ritual.
“Charming,” she breathed out, forcing her smirk even as her stomach turned.
The realization crept in, cold and deliberate.
This wasn’t a temple built for the gods people worship—it was built for the ones they feared.
The messengers between the divine and the mortal world—creatures who carried misfortune and ruin across the veil. The kind mortals tried to appease with blood and prayer, desperate to bribe the shadows into mercy, drowning their terror in incense and devotion to sway it to their side.
But gods had rules. And when the messengers broke them—when they ran out of favour, when they defied their masters, when their names stopped being whispered in prayer—their temples were sealed with powerful spells. Warded by ancient runes.
So that whatever scraps of their power lingered couldn’t claw their way back into the mortal world.
Nyx swallowed hard. The realization hit cold in her gut. Her throat tightened.
This wasn’t a temple.
It was a cage.

Want more of Nyx’s story? Help spread the word! Share this post with 3 friends and unlock a hidden scene from Nyx’s journey!

Refer 3 friends to unlock get exclusive access to a private, never-seen-before scene! See what happens before the chase begins.