Míklos is a private eye—and he’s got a private eye to prove it: the kind that sees too much and forgets nothing.

An anatomically improbable demigod long fallen from grace, he now subsists on odd jobs, filling his pointless centuries with meticulous detective work and casual violence—while cleaning up Their heretical, scandalous, or inconveniently alive mistakes.

Stoic, solitary, and spectacularly self-important, Míklos has no idea what absurdities the Fates have in store for him—nor would he find it funny if he did. His life is a Greek tragedy, and the only thing separating one of those from a comedy is whether the audience laughs at the victim.

So when a routine job to silence some embarrassing undead nearly gets him dead, Míklos is thrust from his cozy office in Sophoglauxópolis into a mythic-noir odyssey stretching from the ocean floor to the summit of Mount Ólympos.

Along the way, he’ll slay supernatural horrors, join a cult, wrestle with his own daemons, and stumble through revelations far bigger than himself—including one or two about love, which he is deeply, profoundly unequipped to process.

Míklos doggedly follows a path littered with Bronze-Age MacGuffins, fresh corpses, and enough twists and turns to confuse a minotaur. When the bloody trail leads to an ancient secret that could bring down the Heavens, he becomes the target of Their divine wrath—and a victim of his own past.

He is not our hero. He’s not even a reliable narrator. Yet this sanctified sad sack with delusions of relevance and a file full of corpses may be the only one reckless enough to ask the questions no one else dares—and survive the answers.

This standalone tragicomedy blends mythic fantasy with noir detective fiction and wry humor—think The Big Sleep meets The Iliad and The Clouds—in under 300 pages. (Not including the glossary, helpfully provided for readers unversed in ancient dialects, practical daemonology, and mythologically variable genitalia.)

It won’t earn you a Classics degree. It will make you laugh and cry at the end of the world—and that’s something, isn’t it?

Enter the grin-dark world of Míklos. Just don’t expect justice—or sanity.