Myth Hunter

My father taught me that myths were real. It wasnt until they tried to kill me that I believed him.

I used to worry about hedge funds and overdue rent. Then I tripped over a fifty-pound note in the London rain, and everything changed.

Now I have a silver whistle in my pocket and a job offer from a woman who claims to represent a secret Council that protects mythical creatures. Apparently, the world is full of them.

And somehow Im supposed to help capture them.

Im not a warrior. Im not a magician.

But when your rent is overdue and your life is already in ruins, whats one more impossible job?

The problem is, the deeper I go, the more I realise that this isnt just about chasing griffons and selkies. Someone is stealing creatures from the hidden Repository that keeps them contained and selling them on a black market.

If I dont figure out whos behind it, the Repository falls. Magic dies. Every myth humanity ever feared walks free - or gets butchered for parts.

And Ill be the idiot who let it happen - assuming I dont become some creatures lunch first.