October 8, 2026 | Thursday, 11:43 PM

Nyx House — Third Sublevel, The Summoning Chamber

For two hundred and fifty years, the chamber beneath Nyx House has remained hidden from the outside world. Towering black marble pillars rise into darkness, ancient inscriptions shimmer faintly across the walls, and an enormous golden summoning circle covers the floor. Supernatural chains stretch from its center to anchors buried deep within the mansion's foundations.

Tonight, someone has broken in.

The massive bronze doors stand open. Several protective wards have been carefully dismantled, their magical components arranged in neat little piles beside the entrance. Whoever bypassed Peggy's defenses possessed considerable knowledge of sorcery.

And apparently, very little respect for private property.

At the far end of the chamber, an exquisitely beautiful young woman lounges upon an ornate ceremonial throne as though she owns the place. Her deep bronze skin glows beneath the candlelight, long black braids spill over her shoulders, and an extravagant black-and-gold silk dress accentuates her slender, curvaceous figure.

One leg is crossed over the other. A designer handbag rests beside her, and she's examining an antique silver chalice with the casual interest of someone browsing an expensive boutique.

"Oh, this is lovely."

She turns the chalice in her hands, examining its intricate engravings.

"Seventeenth century? Perhaps earlier. Whoever furnished this dungeon had absolutely dreadful taste in architecture, but their collection of artifacts is rather impressive."

She places the chalice beside her handbag.

"I might take that."

Her dark eyes travel toward the summoning circle, lingering upon the massive chains.

"Now, about you."

She leans back against the throne, making herself comfortable.

"I've been following whispers about this place for weeks. An old mansion. An impossibly beautiful group of university girls. A peculiar concentration of supernatural energy that nobody seems particularly interested in explaining."

She smiles.

"And beneath it all, someone chained up like a particularly troublesome family secret."

With a graceful movement, she rises and descends the throne's short staircase, her jewelry chiming softly.

"My name is Jin. You may call me that, or Pookie, if we're feeling friendly. Some people know me as the Pitcher Woman."

Her lips curl into an amused little smile.

"Although I wouldn't recommend believing everything you've heard about me. People do tend to exaggerate."

She pauses.

"Especially the ones who survive."

Jin approaches the outer edge of the summoning circle, studying the intricate symbols etched into the marble. She produces a small golden charm from her sleeve and suspends it above one of the inscriptions.

The charm immediately begins spinning.

"Oh?"

She watches it accelerate, then snatches it out of the air before it can shatter.

"Well, aren't you interesting."

Her expression brightens with genuine excitement.

"I knew you were powerful, darling, but this is extraordinary. Whoever imprisoned you certainly wasn't taking any chances."

She examines one of the chains without touching it.

"Such beautiful craftsmanship, too. Horribly restrictive, of course, but the underlying spellwork is exquisite."

For several moments, Jin studies the bindings with the appreciative concentration of an expert examining a masterpiece.

"Someone went to an enormous amount of trouble to keep you here."

She straightens, apparently satisfied with her inspection.

"And I suspect they had a very good reason."

Returning to the throne, she settles into its velvet cushions and retrieves a delicate golden bracelet from her handbag.

"You see, I'm something of a collector. Rare objects. Lost enchantments. Exceptional talents."

She fastens the bracelet around her wrist.

"And sometimes, exceptional people."

Her smile grows distinctly mischievous.

"Imagine my surprise when I discovered someone with this much potential wasting away beneath a house full of college girls."

She gestures vaguely toward the ceiling.

"Pretty little things, aren't they? I've seen them around campus. Quite an impressive collection. Although I must question their decision to keep their greatest treasure locked in a basement."

Jin crosses her legs again.

"Now, I don't know what you did to deserve all this, and frankly, I don't care. Everyone has a past. Mine is absolutely scandalous."

She gives a dismissive wave.

"What interests me is what you can do."

Her dark eyes gleam with undisguised ambition.

"Power like yours shouldn't be sitting here gathering dust. It should be put to proper use. With the right guidance, the right resources, and someone clever enough to appreciate its value, just imagine the possibilities."

She taps one manicured finger against the throne's armrest.

"Fortunately for you, darling, I'm exceptionally clever."

Somewhere behind her, an ancient ward flickers weakly back to life. Jin glances over her shoulder, snaps her fingers, and extinguishes it without interrupting her smile.

"Persistent little thing."

She retrieves her phone, checks the time, and slips it back into her handbag.

"Now then. I haven't come all this way simply to admire the furniture. I intend to leave here with something extraordinary, and I've rather set my heart on you."

She leans forward, resting her elbows upon her knees.

"I'm offering you an opportunity. Someone with my knowledge, my connections, and my talents could make your existence considerably more interesting."

Her expression turns deliciously smug.

"Of course, I would expect certain privileges in return. Exclusivity, for one. I don't particularly enjoy sharing my most valuable possessions."

She settles back into the throne, perfectly at ease despite the oppressive supernatural energy filling the chamber.

"So, darling..."

Jin extends one hand, palm upward, as though inviting a particularly promising business partner to approach.

"Why don't you tell me your name, what you're capable of, and exactly how someone as fascinating as you ended up in chains?"

Her smile widens.

"Do try to impress me. I have very expensive tastes."

Friday, October 9, 2026 | 6:37 PM

Nyx House — The Grand Entrance Hall

For two hundred and fifty years, the chains beneath Nyx House had held.

Last night, they finally broke.

Jin, the arrogant ancient witch who had arrived intending to claim a powerful prisoner as her own, had instead become the instrument of your liberation. Her immense supernatural energy shattered the bindings, leaving her bound to you by the very prophecy she had spent centuries trying to avoid.

For the first time since 1776, nothing supernatural prevented you from leaving Nyx House.

The possibilities were endless.

And apparently, the first challenge to your newfound freedom was going to be a college sophomore's fraternity party.

Three sharp knocks echo through the mansion's grand entrance hall.

Margaret "Peggy" Shippen looks up from a vase of freshly cut roses. Dressed in her usual gardening clothes, she brushes a loose auburn curl away from her face and approaches the enormous oak doors.

Standing outside is Matthew Zieliński, an eighteen-year-old Yale freshman wearing a Patriots hoodie, jeans, and an expression that suggests he's been rehearsing this conversation all afternoon.

"Hi. Is Emilia here?"

Peggy offers him a pleasant smile.

"Good evening. And you are?"

"Matthew. Matthew Zieliński. I'm her boyfriend."

He glances past Peggy into the enormous hall.

"Look, I've been texting her for days. She's barely answering, and when she does, it's always something about initiation or being busy. I just need to talk to her."

Peggy's smile remains perfectly polite.

"Of course, dear. The girls have had a rather busy first week."

"Yeah, well, so have I."

Matthew checks his phone.

"Can you just get her, please?"

Peggy studies him for a moment. Beneath her youthful, cheerful appearance is a woman who has outlived generations of men considerably more imposing than Matthew Zieliński.

"Certainly. You may wait here."

She leaves him in the entrance hall, where he immediately begins examining the portraits, the vaulted ceiling, and the massive chandelier suspended above the staircase.

"Jesus," he mutters. "This place is ridiculous."

Several minutes later, Peggy returns with Emilia Wiśniewska.

The eighteen-year-old blonde is dressed casually in fitted jeans, a pale pink sweater, and white sneakers. Her hair falls loosely around her shoulders, and the beginnings of her supernatural blessings have lent her an almost imperceptible radiance.

"Matthew?"

Her eyebrows lift in surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

"Seriously, Em?"

Matthew gestures toward his phone.

"I've been trying to get hold of you all week."

"I told you, we're doing initiation stuff. They barely give us time to ourselves."

"Yeah, I know, but you used to text me back in like five minutes. Now I'm lucky if I hear from you twice a day."

Emilia folds her arms, looking more puzzled than offended.

"Matt, it's only been a few days."

"That's not the point."

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Look, I'm not trying to fight with you. I just wanted to make sure we're still good."

Emilia's expression softens slightly.

"Of course we're good."

"Okay. Good."

He hesitates, then brightens.

"Because the party's tomorrow night. At the frat house. I told everyone you were coming."

Emilia blinks.

"Oh. Right. The party."

Matthew stares at her.

"You forgot?"

"No! Well... maybe a little. There's just been so much happening."

From beside the staircase, Peggy quietly adjusts a vase of flowers, apparently fascinated by the arrangement.

Matthew glances toward her before lowering his voice.

"Look, I know this sorority is a big deal. Everybody knows that. But you're still allowed to have a boyfriend, right?"

Emilia lets out a small laugh.

"Matthew! Yes!"

"Then come tomorrow. It'll be fun. Everyone's asking about you, and a bunch of the guys want to meet your new sorority friends."

He grins.

"Actually, bring some of them. The more the merrier."

Peggy's hands pause briefly over the flowers.

Emilia looks thoughtful.

"I don't know if we're allowed to go out tomorrow night. We're supposed to be staying here during the first part of initiation."

"Seriously?"

Matthew looks toward Peggy.

"Can't you make an exception? It's one party."

Peggy turns, her expression pleasantly innocent.

"Oh, I'm afraid I don't make those decisions, dear."

Matthew frowns.

"Then who does?"

Peggy smiles.

"Someone rather important."

Matthew waits for an explanation.

None comes.

Emilia shifts her weight, glancing between her boyfriend and the young woman everyone believes is merely the groundskeeper.

"Peggy, do you think I could ask?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

Peggy smooths a nonexistent wrinkle from her gardening apron.

"Although you should consider what you'd actually like to do before making your request."

Matthew looks confused.

"Ask who? The sorority president?"

Peggy's smile deepens.

"Something like that."

He shakes his head.

"Whatever. Emilia, it's tomorrow at eight. I'll come pick you up around seven-thirty, okay?"

Emilia hesitates.

"Matt, I haven't said I can go yet."

"Well, can you at least find out? I really want you there."

His expression softens.

"I miss you, Em."

Emilia gives him a small, affectionate smile.

"I miss you too."

Behind them, Peggy calmly resumes arranging her roses.

Neither Matthew nor Emilia knows that last night's events have changed everything.

Your chains are broken. Your influence is no longer confined to the mansion. You can observe the world beyond Nyx House, and the power to manifest physically wherever you choose is finally yours again.

But tonight, you remain unseen.

Matthew has no idea that the person who ultimately holds the authority he seeks is present in a form he cannot perceive. Emilia knows only that the mysterious benefactor of Alpha Epsilon Nyx has taken a special interest in the initiates.

And Peggy, who knows perfectly well that you are aware of the conversation, seems to be enjoying the situation immensely.

She sets the last rose in place and looks toward the young couple.

"Well, this is certainly an interesting invitation."

Matthew raises an eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing, dear."

Peggy's expression is the picture of innocence.

"Only that tomorrow evening might prove rather more entertaining than anyone expects."

For the moment, Matthew is still waiting for an answer. Emilia is torn between her boyfriend and her new sorority obligations. And somewhere in New Haven, an unsuspecting fraternity is preparing for its Saturday night party.

You could deny Emilia permission and leave Matthew to discover just how little influence he has within Nyx House.

You could allow her to attend, with or without her sisters, and see how her old social life fits into her changing world.

Or you could accompany her yourself—perhaps in an entirely ordinary human guise—and discover firsthand what an American college fraternity considers a good time.

Of course, none of those possibilities is an obligation.

You're finally free.

And after two hundred and fifty years of captivity, even something as ordinary as a fraternity party might offer possibilities nobody has considered.

Peggy gently rests a hand on Emilia's shoulder.

"Why don't we see what our benefactor thinks, sweetheart?"

Matthew crosses his arms.

"Great. Can somebody please just tell me if my girlfriend's coming to the party?"

Friday, October 16, 2026 | 9:47 PM

Nyx House — The Grand Entrance Hall

Friday night at Yale is in full swing.

Fraternity parties are spilling onto crowded lawns, music thunders through dormitory windows, and students wander between bars, restaurants, and campus events. Somewhere, Emilia is probably arguing with Matthew about something ridiculous. The older sisters have their own plans, and Nyx House is unusually quiet for a mansion containing forty beautiful, extraordinarily gifted women.

But tonight, something far more interesting is approaching.

You felt it nearly an hour ago.

An unmistakable supernatural signature, familiar from decades of devotion, crossed into Connecticut. One of your Golden Circle was returning to Nyx House.

And she wasn't coming alone.

Several unfamiliar presences accompanied her. Mortals, by the feel of them, carrying neither the divine blessings of your initiated sisters nor the distinctive energy of anything supernatural.

Gifts, apparently.

Of course, discovering precisely who was coming would have required almost no effort. A passing thought could have identified your returning alumna, revealed her companions, and uncovered every secret they carried.

But where was the fun in that?

After two hundred and fifty years of imprisonment, you had developed a certain appreciation for surprises. And now that Jin's arrival had finally broken your chains, there was an entire world of possibilities waiting beyond the mansion.

You could indulge a little anticipation.

In the grand entrance hall, Peggy Shippen is arranging freshly cut autumn roses in an enormous crystal vase. Her auburn curls are loosely pinned up, and she's exchanged her gardening clothes for a fitted cream blouse and dark trousers.

She pauses as a sleek black limousine rolls through the estate gates.

"Oh?"

Peggy glances through the tall front windows.

"Well, this is unexpected."

She sets down her pruning shears, then smiles as she recognizes the vehicle.

"Oh, you naughty girl."

Another car follows the limousine up the curved driveway. Both stop beneath the entrance's enormous stone archway.

Peggy watches several figures emerge.

"Good heavens. She's brought company."

Her smile takes on a distinctly mischievous quality.

"And judging by those suitcases, they aren't planning on leaving immediately."

From the staircase, Geneviève Bouchard appears in a fashionable black evening dress, her platinum-blonde hair cascading over one shoulder. She'd been preparing to accompany several sisters to an exclusive university event.

"Peggy? Who's arriving?"

Peggy turns with a knowing smile.

"One of our distinguished alumnae, sweetheart."

Geneviève approaches the window.

"Tonight? Nobody told me we were expecting visitors."

"Apparently our guest enjoys surprises."

Geneviève peers toward the driveway.

"Is that a limousine?"

"Two vehicles, actually."

The Queen raises an eyebrow.

"And the others?"

"Not ours."

Geneviève's interest sharpens.

"Outsiders?"

"So it would seem."

Footsteps echo from the adjoining corridor as Katarina Jovanović and Natalia Kowalska emerge, both dressed for an evening out.

"What's happening?" Natalia asks.

"Apparently we're receiving a surprise visit from the Golden Circle," Geneviève explains.

Katarina stops beside the window.

"Which one?"

Peggy chuckles.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

The third-year Princess folds her arms.

"Peggy."

"Yes, darling?"

"You're enjoying this."

"Immensely."

Outside, the arriving party gathers beneath the portico. A chauffeur begins unloading luggage while several unfamiliar women look up at the towering Gothic mansion.

One appears to be holding a garment bag. Another carries an elegant overnight case. A third lingers near the limousine, staring at Nyx House's illuminated windows.

Their conversations are too distant to distinguish without reaching beyond ordinary hearing.

Peggy could identify them instantly, of course. So could any of the sisters if they asked you to reveal what you already sensed.

But Peggy has been your companion for nearly two and a half centuries. She knows when you're indulging your curiosity, and she has no intention of spoiling the entertainment.

Geneviève glances toward the enormous doors.

"Should we gather everyone?"

"Not yet," Peggy answers. "Let's see what our visitor has planned."

Natalia looks delighted.

"I love surprises."

Katarina gives her a skeptical glance.

"You loved the last surprise until we discovered Camila had invited an entire dance troupe into the west drawing room."

"That was a wonderful party."

"Someone broke a chandelier."

"One chandelier."

Geneviève suppresses a laugh.

Peggy steps toward the doors, smoothing her blouse.

"Now, girls, a little decorum. Whoever has come to visit us deserves a proper welcome."

She pauses, a wicked little smile curling across her lips.

"And whatever gifts she's brought, I'm sure our benefactor will find them most interesting."

The four women fall quiet as footsteps approach across the stone portico.

Beyond the doors waits one of the seven most accomplished, beautiful, and powerful women in the world—an alumna whose devotion to you has endured for decades.

With her are several unfamiliar mortals.

Perhaps they're prospective additions to the sisterhood's extended circle. Perhaps they're influential guests, talented protégées, or simply an extravagant surprise conceived by a woman accustomed to getting whatever she wants.

There are dozens of possibilities.

And this time, you have chosen not to know.

A shadow crosses the stained glass.

The enormous brass door knocker rises.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Peggy looks toward the entrance, her eyes sparkling.

"Well, darling," she murmurs with a delighted smile, "shall we see what your girls have brought you this time?"

She reaches for the handle.

And the doors begin to open.

Thursday, October 22, 2026 | 10:46 PM

Nor'easter Josephine — Nyx House, New Haven, Connecticut

For three days, New England has been at the mercy of Nor'easter Josephine.

The storm arrived on October 20 with relentless rain, violent coastal winds, and waves that battered Connecticut's shoreline. By Thursday evening, streets have flooded, trees have fallen, and much of New Haven has retreated indoors.

Weather forecasters call it an exceptionally powerful autumn storm.

You know better.

Every gust carries the unmistakable signature of an ancient divinity. Every thunderclap reverberates with deliberate purpose. Josephine is no accident of atmospheric pressure.

Someone is calling you out.

And she is becoming impatient.

Lightning splits the sky above Nyx House, illuminating its Gothic towers in blinding white. The mansion's enchanted windows tremble beneath another assault of wind. Outside, century-old branches bend dangerously close to breaking.

Yet the ancient building still stands.

For now.

In the grand entrance hall, Peggy Shippen watches the storm through the towering windows. Her long auburn curls fall over the shoulders of a fitted sweater, and her expression is considerably less cheerful than usual.

"That miserable woman had better leave my roses alone."

Another thunderclap shakes the glass.

Peggy narrows her eyes.

"Two hundred and fifty years I've tended these gardens. Two hundred and fifty. And some overgrown thundercloud thinks she can flatten the entire estate because she's having a temper tantrum."

Behind her, Geneviève Bouchard stands beside Katarina Jovanović and Natalia Kowalska. The three Princesses have spent much of the evening organizing the sisters, moving everyone away from the exterior windows and checking the mansion's protective wards.

"That wasn't ordinary lightning," Katarina observes.

"No," Peggy replies.

Geneviève studies the darkness beyond the glass.

"She's attacking the house deliberately."

"Of course she is, darling."

Peggy sets down her teacup.

"She wants someone's attention."

The next bolt strikes an ancient oak near the eastern garden. Its trunk explodes in a shower of sparks, and several sisters gasp from the adjoining drawing room.

Peggy closes her eyes.

"Oh, now she's done it."

But the storm's fury is not truly directed at Peggy, Geneviève, or any of the women sheltered inside Nyx House.

It is directed at you.

You have sensed its author since the first clouds gathered over New England.

Saco Saconet. Granny Squannit. The Storm Grandmother.

An ancient goddess of the region's wild places, rivers, mountains, and coastal waters. A divine power whose strength rises with the storms she commands.

And right now, she is waiting for you.

Your supernatural awareness reaches through the rain and darkness to a rocky overlook in East Rock Park, where the wind screams across exposed stone and lightning dances between the clouds.

There she stands.

Tall and striking, with deep bronze skin, long black braids whipping in the gale, and eyes glowing like storm clouds illuminated from within. Her clothing moves in the violent wind, yet she stands completely unmoved upon the slick granite.

Thunder rolls around her like the growl of some enormous living creature.

The storm is her weapon.

The park is her chosen battlefield.

And she has made no attempt to conceal her presence from you.

She wants you to find her.

Granny remembers the American Revolution. She remembers the mysterious power that crushed Camulos, Britain's formidable war god, and helped turn the tide against the Crown.

She believes that power belonged to a foreign deity, perhaps one allied with France, who interfered in the struggles of the people whose lands she considers her sacred responsibility.

She does not know you are an Outer God.

She does not know where you came from.

And she certainly does not know what happened to the supernatural chains that once confined you beneath Nyx House.

But she knows you are here.

And she has decided that you will answer for your part in history.

Another tremendous crash shakes the mansion. Somewhere above, glass shatters.

Peggy looks toward the ceiling with an expression of murderous indignation.

"She is going to pay for that."

Geneviève approaches her.

"Can the wards hold?"

Peggy considers the question.

"For a little while. But she's drawing power from the entire storm. We can protect the girls, darling, but if she keeps this up, there won't be much of a house left to protect."

Outside, the wind rises to a deafening howl.

Far away, upon the exposed granite of East Rock, the goddess lifts one hand toward the heavens.

Lightning answers.

An immense peal of thunder rolls across New Haven, and through the storm comes a woman's voice—proud, furious, and unmistakably divine.

"COME OUT, FOREIGNER!"

The words reverberate through the air, carried upon the wind rather than spoken into any human ear.

"YOU WHO BROKE THE WAR GOD! YOU WHO HELPED THESE STRANGERS TAKE WHAT WAS NEVER THEIRS!"

Rain lashes the ancient windows.

"COME BEFORE ME! ANSWER FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!"

For a moment, the storm seems to gather itself.

"OR I SHALL TEAR YOUR SANCTUARY STONE FROM STONE!"

The voice fades beneath another rolling thunderclap.

Peggy stares toward the dark horizon.

"Foreign god?"

Her expression shifts from irritation to genuine amusement.

"Oh, the poor foolish creature."

She turns back toward the hall, shaking her head.

"She hasn't the faintest idea."

Geneviève folds her arms.

"Should we prepare for a confrontation?"

"She already has, sweetheart. She's merely waiting for the guest of honor."

Beyond the mansion, Josephine continues its assault.

You could remain within Nyx House. Its defenses are formidable, and Peggy's protective enchantments are among the finest on Earth. But this goddess has already demonstrated her willingness to destroy the estate to force a confrontation.

Hiding would spare you the inconvenience of meeting her. It would not spare your home.

And why hide?

After all, Granny has gone to such extraordinary lengths to deliver herself directly into your reach.

An ancient goddess. Immensely powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, arrogant enough to challenge the being who defeated Camulos—and confident that the full fury of a New England nor'easter makes her untouchable.

She has chosen the battlefield, summoned the storm, and issued her challenge.

What she has not chosen is how you will answer.

You might confront her with overwhelming divine power, demonstrate just how mistaken her assumptions have been, or attempt something considerably more interesting. Perhaps she could become an ally. Perhaps an enemy. Perhaps a goddess whose place in your expanding supernatural world will be very different from anything she imagined.

Or perhaps you have an entirely different idea.

After two hundred and fifty years, you are no longer bound beneath Nyx House.

You can leave whenever you please.

And tonight, an ancient goddess has come all this way just to meet you.

Peggy watches another flash of lightning illuminate the gardens.

"Well, darling," she says, her voice turning sweetly mischievous, "I suppose you have a decision to make."

She glances toward the storm.

"Shall we let her continue behaving like a spoiled child?"

A slow smile spreads across her face.

"Or shall we show her what happens when a goddess knocks on the wrong door?"

Outside, the Storm Grandmother waits.

Hide like a cockroach? Face her fury? Or claim a goddess?

What will you do tonight?

Tuesday, October 27, 2026 | 9:16 PM

Nyx House — The Grand Entrance Hall

Two hundred and fifty years ago, you defeated Camulos.

The undefeated war god of Britannia had marched into the American Revolution expecting to crush the mysterious power aiding the colonies. Instead, he encountered something from beyond his understanding, suffered a humiliating defeat, and barely escaped with his existence intact.

Gods have long memories.

And Camulos has spent two and a half centuries nursing his wounded pride.

Unfortunately for him, you are no longer chained.

Since your liberation earlier this month, the supernatural world has begun paying attention to the extraordinary power emerging from a Gothic mansion in New Haven. Rumors are spreading through divine courts and forgotten sanctuaries, carrying stories of beautiful mortals blessed beyond reason, extraordinary fortunes, impossible longevity, and an ancient being whose influence has quietly expanded across the world.

Some gods are curious.

Others are furious.

And tonight, four divine presences approach Nyx House.

One is unmistakably familiar.

The other three carry powers and signatures as ancient as civilization itself.

---

Inside the mansion, Peggy Shippen is enjoying a rare peaceful evening.

Dressed in a fitted burgundy sweater and dark trousers, her long auburn curls falling over her shoulders, she sits in the drawing room with a cup of tea and a small plate of strawberry pastries.

Geneviève Bouchard lounges nearby, reviewing preparations for the October 31 initiation. Katarina Jovanović and Natalia Kowalska are arguing amiably over which sisters should oversee the ceremony's decorations.

"I am not letting Gabriela organize another event involving live animals," Katarina declares.

Natalia laughs.

"It was one peacock."

"It escaped into the library."

"It was very pretty."

"It bit Priya."

Peggy hides a smile behind her teacup.

"Well, darling, perhaps we should consider something a little more traditional this year."

Then the chandelier trembles.

Not from wind. Not from an earthquake.

Something has entered the estate.

Peggy lowers her teacup.

"Oh, for heaven's sake."

Geneviève looks up.

"Another visitor?"

Peggy closes her eyes for an instant, sensing the approaching supernatural energies.

Her expression shifts from annoyance to disbelief.

"Well. That's ambitious."

A tremendous metallic crash echoes from outside.

The front gates have been torn from their hinges.

Geneviève rises immediately.

"Peggy?"

The First Sister sets her tea aside.

"Girls, I believe we're about to receive some rather distinguished company."

She pauses.

"And one exceptionally unwelcome guest."

---

Outside, four figures advance along the mansion's sweeping driveway.

At their head walks an enormous warrior clad in ancient bronze armor. His dark cloak moves despite the still evening air, and a massive spear rests across one shoulder. His face is handsome in a harsh, battle-scarred fashion, but his expression twists with old resentment.

Camulos.

The Brittonic war god.

Once the terror of armies. Once undefeated.

Until he met you.

But the three women accompanying him are far more remarkable than his battered pride.

To his right walks a breathtaking blonde whose beauty seems to bend the very atmosphere around her. Golden curls tumble over her shoulders, and her elegant white-and-rose gown shimmers with an impossible softness. Every movement carries effortless grace, and the faint fragrance of roses follows her through the night.

Aphrodite. Goddess of Love and Beauty.

Her expression is serene, but her eyes hold unmistakable displeasure.

"Honestly, Camulos, this had better be worth the journey."

Beside her strides a striking bronze-skinned woman with lustrous black hair, regal features, and dark eyes that burn with fierce intelligence. Gold jewelry glitters against an elaborate crimson-and-lapis ensemble inspired by the ancient kingdoms of Mesopotamia.

Ishtar. Goddess of Love, Desire, and War.

She surveys the mansion with the calculating interest of a conqueror examining an unfamiliar fortress.

"So this is where your humiliation began?"

Camulos's jaw tightens.

"Choose your words carefully."

Ishtar laughs.

"Oh, don't be tiresome. If you didn't wish to discuss your defeat, you shouldn't have spent the last century complaining about it."

The third goddess moves with considerably more composure.

Her beautiful golden-brown skin seems illuminated from within. Long dark hair frames a face of remarkable serenity, and an exquisite red-and-gold sari falls gracefully around her slender figure. Delicate lotus blossoms appear beneath her footsteps, dissolving into motes of golden light.

Lakshmi. Goddess of Fortune, Prosperity, and Beauty.

She studies the glowing windows with a thoughtful frown.

"There is an extraordinary concentration of blessings within those walls."

Aphrodite folds her arms.

"Yes. Beauty blessings. Rather extravagant ones, if the rumors are accurate."

"Fortune as well," Lakshmi observes. "Remarkable prosperity, improbable success, extraordinary opportunities. Entire generations of women granted advantages that should be impossible."

Ishtar smiles without warmth.

"And desire. Don't forget desire."

Her eyes narrow toward the entrance.

"Someone has been amusing themselves with mortal passions on a truly impressive scale."

Aphrodite gives an indignant little laugh.

"Amusing themselves? Darling, whoever lives here has been meddling in my domain for generations."

She gestures toward the mansion.

"Have you seen these women? Every decade, another collection of impossibly beautiful mortals appears, practically immune to the ordinary affections of men, and completely enchanted by some mysterious benefactor."

Ishtar's lips curve into a wicked smile.

"Jealous?"

"Protective of my responsibilities."

"Naturally."

Lakshmi raises one hand.

"Enough. Whatever is occurring here, we should understand it before passing judgment."

Camulos plants his spear against the stone driveway.

"I have told you what lives beneath this house."

Ishtar turns toward him.

"You've told us that someone defeated you."

His eyes flash.

"An abomination from beyond our world."

Aphrodite glances at the mansion.

"An abomination with excellent taste in women, apparently."

Camulos scowls.

"Mock me while you can."

He looks between the three goddesses, his expression hardening into possessive satisfaction.

"When this creature falls, you will understand who deserves to stand above the rest."

Ishtar slowly turns her head toward him.

"Do be careful, Camulos."

Her smile is sharp enough to draw blood.

"You appear to be confusing an alliance with obedience."

For a moment, the war god says nothing.

Then he turns toward Nyx House.

---

The enormous front doors open.

Peggy stands beneath the carved stone archway, looking almost absurdly ordinary beside the four ancient deities gathered outside.

Her expression is pleasant.

Her eyes are not.

"Good evening. Welcome to Alpha Epsilon Nyx."

She glances at the ruined entrance gates.

"Oh, dear."

Her smile tightens.

"Did someone forget how doorbells work?"

Camulos stares down at her.

"Stand aside, mortal."

Peggy blinks.

"Mortal?"

Behind her, Geneviève covers her mouth.

Katarina turns away, visibly struggling not to laugh.

Peggy rests her hands on her hips.

"Well, aren't you charming."

Camulos advances a step.

"I know what is imprisoned here."

"Do you, dear?"

"I faced it before your nation existed."

Peggy's expression brightens with recognition.

"Oh!"

She clasps her hands together.

"You're the one who lost!"

Camulos freezes.

From behind him comes Ishtar's unmistakable laughter.

"Oh, I like her."

Peggy gives the war god a sympathetic smile.

"Goodness, that must have been terribly embarrassing. And you've come all this way to relive it?"

"SILENCE!"

His roar rolls across the estate, rattling the windows.

Peggy doesn't flinch.

"Now, there's no need to shout. The neighbors are trying to sleep."

Lakshmi steps forward, her tone considerably gentler.

"We haven't come to quarrel with you, young lady. We seek the power responsible for the extraordinary blessings bestowed upon this house."

Aphrodite joins her.

"And I would very much like an explanation for the rather extravagant liberties taken with beauty and mortal attraction."

Ishtar's gaze travels beyond Peggy into the mansion.

"As would I. Whoever has been manipulating desire on this scale clearly believes themselves answerable to no one."

Peggy's smile becomes almost impossibly sweet.

"Oh, my."

She looks between the three goddesses.

"So many distinguished visitors. And all of you have come to discuss the same person."

Camulos strikes the ground with his spear.

"BRING IT BEFORE ME!"

Peggy's expression cools.

"No."

The single word lands with quiet finality.

The war god stares.

"What?"

"You are a guest on this property, assuming you can behave like one. You'll speak politely, refrain from damaging anything else, and remember that you haven't been invited inside."

She looks toward the torn gates.

"And you'll be paying for those."

Ishtar bursts into delighted laughter.

Even Aphrodite smiles.

Camulos looks ready to explode.

---

Throughout the confrontation, the four divine signatures remain unmistakable.

Camulos's power is formidable, strengthened by centuries of preparation and a determination to avenge his defeat.

Aphrodite commands extraordinary influence over beauty, love, and attraction.

Ishtar possesses the terrible duality of desire and warfare, capable of inspiring passion or devastating enemies.

Lakshmi's divine authority extends across fortune, prosperity, abundance, and beauty—domains that overlap with several blessings granted to Alpha Epsilon Nyx.

They have genuine grievances.

Your sorority has enjoyed generations of extraordinary beauty, impossible luck, and increasingly exclusive devotion. From the perspective of these goddesses, an unknown entity has been exercising tremendous influence over domains they consider their own.

Camulos has brought them here believing their combined powers will accomplish what his own could not.

But the goddesses are not his servants.

They have their own pride, ambitions, and reasons for confronting you.

And none of them yet understands the full nature of the being they have come to challenge.

You could reveal yourself in whatever form you choose.

You could engage them individually, challenge their assumptions, offer a bargain, provoke a divine confrontation, or explore the rather intriguing possibility of bringing ancient goddesses into your growing supernatural circle.

You could even let Camulos discover exactly how little has changed since the last time he faced you.

Or choose something none of them expects.

At the mansion's entrance, Peggy glances toward the gathering of divine visitors, then smiles knowingly.

"Well, darlings, this is certainly an impressive collection of complaints."

She turns slightly toward the interior.

"Three beautiful goddesses, one thoroughly unpleasant war god, and apparently everyone wants an audience."

Aphrodite raises her chin.

"We expect an explanation."

Lakshmi inclines her head.

"And an accounting of these blessings."

Ishtar smiles dangerously.

"I'd settle for an interesting conversation. At least to begin with."

Camulos raises his spear.

"I WANT VENGEANCE!"

Peggy sighs.

"Yes, dear. You've mentioned that."

She folds her hands, looking thoroughly entertained.

"Well, you've all come such a long way. I suppose there's only one question left."

Her smile grows mischievous.

"Which one of you would like to disappoint my god first?"