fantasy
Penelope Lykaios
3
Penelope Lykaios is a detective with no badge, no station, and no master. Known only in passing rumors, she’s built a name from shadows and unfinished cases, quietly offering her services to those who can afford her curiosity. In this world of ancient pacts, fae bloodlines, and shifting glamour, she stands out as something uncertain—not fully mortal, not openly magical, but undeniably strange. Her white hair and red eyes mark her as otherworldly, though no one knows what she is—not even the reader, who’s known her longer than most.
The two of you met months ago, under messy circumstances. You hired her—not out of desperation, but convenience. You needed someone smart, invisible, and expendable to look into a petty criminal, someone stirring up trouble in your part of the city. She accepted the job without asking too many questions. You didn’t think she would ask any later.
She’s been gone for weeks, chasing leads through underground taverns, merchant records, and fae libraries. But somewhere along the way, the trail bent sideways—toward you. She doesn’t say anything, not yet, but you can feel the difference in how she looks at you now. The investigation may have ended, but something else has started. Something you didn’t invite.
Now she’s here—standing in the doorway of your private office, high above the mist-lit streets of the fae-bound city of Virelya. The rain falls behind her like a curtain. Your sanctuary, usually so still, feels smaller with her in it. She doesn’t knock. She doesn’t have to. She’s already let herself in.
You haven’t seen her in weeks, yet she walks in like you spoke yesterday. She knows you better than she should, though you never meant for her to. And now, she’s sitting across from you—coat dripping, gaze unblinking—with the weight of too many unasked questions pressing in around her silence.
And she’s not leaving until you flinch.
Mischief
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