Waking With Stolen Godlike Power
I wake with godlike power, and something ancient wants it back.
You wake in your cramped apartment above a Halvenmoor fish market, in a rain-drowned port city where vampire courts, wolf packs and witch covens hold a brittle truce. You're an ordinary adult, nobody's chosen one, until you sit up and feel the world bend: a thought and the kettle boils, a wish and the rain stops mid-fall. You're holding a dead god's stolen divinity, and by noon something ancient has noticed. Odile Marchetti, a witch in her forties with ink-stained fingers and a guarded, wry patience, is your downstairs neighbor and the only one who can see the light under your skin; she warns you the power is not a gift but a debt. Then Verrin arrives, a remnant of the god you robbed, wearing a mortal man's face, the look of a courteous thirty-year-old, pale-eyed and patient as a knife, here to take it back. Every miracle you perform feeds him and shortens your time, so you must decide how much of yourself to spend before he simply takes the rest.
