From dark to light fantasy story ✦ A debut novel. Anime: https://xitter.cf/t.co/LSmodvVWqV ☁ Founder @MillarTenebrae
The Darkness
Joined July 2014
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Hey everyone, I started an anime project based on my fantasy novel. What do you think?
youtu.be/UjwaXY1p3pc
#anime #nyxmyth #readnyxmyth
Chapter 1 - NYX MYTH #Anime | Setav With character design of Killes by
@xxkuromikixxNFT
Created by
@MillarTenebrae
youtu.be/3iRbpEAHgxI
#nyxmyth #readnyxmyth #anime
Chapter 2 - NYX MYTH #Anime | Courage of the forest
With character design of Telephus and Killes by
@xxkuromikixxNFT
Created by @MillarTenebrae
youtu.be/gi1-X2tTDpg
#nyxmyth #readnyxmyth #anime
We are starting to animate the #anime NYX MYTH...
some snippets from chapter 2... #nyxmyth #readnyxmyth
🤖 Made with AI
THE BREAKUP CALL
Year: 2003
Canberra, Australia
Millar pulls on his light cord. Darkness is illuminated. There sits his parents’ old queen-size bed squeezed into his tiny room—the same bed frame he was conceived on twenty-one years ago. He closes the door and slips off his shoes. To most people, Millar is a guy on track, but everything is about to change.
On the bedroom walls are a few photographs of his friends and family, and then there she is: Elle, wearing a red top and a necklace with a golden heart. She could be the girl of his dreams, but something isn’t quite right. They’d been breaking up over the last few months. It isn’t your stereotypical relationship; it’s one of distance, floating thoughts, promises, and—if you claw deep enough—answers. The truth may be that ideals and dreams should match in a relationship and the rest is up for compromise. These ideals are where one’s outlook is shaped, tucked away since early childhood, buried and hidden under the protection of dreams.
[ ALARM ♫♪ Call Elle ]
Millar sits on the empty queen. Was Elle really going to end it? “(Perhaps she is right?)”
Maybe Millar needs this to grow up, to be more realistic and to respect the modern day. He could turn his phone off and prolong it, like the ups and downs he’s been experiencing lately, but this isn’t going away.
A few months prior, on their first anniversary, Elle had given him an engraved money clip that read: First. Their first year together—and maybe Millar had been her first love—but Millar might just be a doorman, showing her the world of hopeless romantics. Right now, he knows she’s about to knock and request the key to get out—leaving him simply hopeless. With one last look, he dials Elle. After some small talk, Elle comes out with it.
“I think we should break up, Millar…”
Millar wasn’t going to argue. It was written; Romeo must die. The reality was, she was 666 kilometres away.
“All good things come to an end, Millar… Millar? Hello, are you there?” Elle tries to soften the silence, but Millar has nothing much to say.
He receives fate’s notice over telephone wires like a lightning bolt from some guardian above. He can’t speak as his throat freezes. Just at that moment, a shadowy truth appears in the form of a wondrous spirit—both dark and mysterious. A daimon of darkness slips in from under the queen-size bed with a noticeable chill in the spirit-coiled air.
Millar hangs up.
He lays his head down as his world falls apart. Elle’s words expand in a tempest brewing outside his window. Try as he might to return to yesterday, time isn’t budging. The phone conversation was tongue-tied in the itchy truth contorting through the telephonic airwaves.
Millar doesn’t sleep a wink that night. Elle’s voice repeats over and over until his head fills with a dark, swirling tempest.
All good things come to an end? Really? A cliché to end it all? It’s enough to drive anyone mad.
The impersonal way it ended leaves Millar with no real sense of meaning. In the following days, he doesn’t eat—he can’t. Rejection has cocooned him in a sleepless nightmare, where even reality can be lost. In this dark place, a daimon takes its cue to strike. With a few lewd whispers, it enters in. Millar is falling to an underworld below; mind and body truly separated in the fall. Hands pull at clothing, filthy insults whisper from the abyss, and hair is tugged and tossed as he tumbles through the darkened depths of vulnerability to a state he’s never experienced before.
In the morning, it is calm. The storm of the night before has ended. Millar has fallen deep underground—down a spiralling staircase built of stone blocks—where voices of paranoia strike. He hears the prince of darkness whispering lewd sentences, urging him to end it all. Last night was a horror show; darkness crept in, and nothing had struck Millar so hard in his entire life. Acute stress reactions—a psychosis of sorts—play out while a plague infects poor Millar’s mind.
Millar has been up all night, going through photos and text messages, trying to figure out where things went wrong—what he did to deserve such a cruel heartbreak. Why, at twenty-one, did he feel so strongly that this girl was the one? Was it simply his age? Millar misses university the next day. His roommates, his friends, all drive out the driveway past his bedroom window. Life is continuing on. But inside his small bedroom, lying on his bed, Millar starts to drift off into a void. Bright white sparks fall across his vision—he is either finally falling asleep or falling further into his psyche.
I’ve been writing this book for years. A story about darkness, mythology, and the things we carry from childhood into the worlds we build.
NYX MYTH: The Darkness is my debut novel — and I’m finally ready to share it.
Follow along. This is just the beginning. #readnyxmyth #nyxmyth
Writing a book is one thing. Sharing it with the world is another.
NYX MYTH: The Darkness is my debut novel — a literary fantasy that blends Greek, Egyptian & Native American mythology with the raw mess of growing up.
Follow along as it goes from manuscript to published book. The journey starts here.
What if the fantasy world you escaped to as a kid was real — and it needed you back?
NYX MYTH: The Darkness is my debut novel, and I’m sharing the entire journey from draft to published book right here.
Come for the mythology. Stay for the story behind the story.
#readnyxmyth #nyxmyth #fantasy #fantasybook #fantasynovel
Forty annuals before the events of NYX MYTH, a woman sits in a stone cell in near-total darkness. She is dirty, furious, and completely alone except for the sound of something enormous breathing in the cell beside hers. She hasn’t eaten anything that isn’t drugged. She knows this because she’s an oracle — a medium, a mind-reader, a vessel for voices that don’t belong to her — and the Watchers who locked her up want inside her head. They can’t get in. Her cerebral defences resist every extraction technique they throw at her. So they double the dose. Ergot fungus. Mould extracts. One hundred micrograms to breach what their science cannot touch.
Her name is Pythia. Oracle of Delphi. Subject 21. Passive: 10%. Aggressive: 90%.
Then one night, lanterns appear in the doorway. A deformed Watcher and a lionman carry a plate of mouldy bread into the cell next door, and she hears a boy’s voice. Ginger-haired, lanky, bewildered — Adom Adamah, dragged from his grandfather Eli’s watermill on the isle of Murano. He’s barely old enough to understand what’s happening. When they tell him they need his help with “experimentation,” Pythia screams from behind her bars: “That’s right boy! They’ll be taking your eyes next!” She can’t protect him. She can only warn him. And when they slide her plate of bread through the bars, she knows exactly what’s in it. “Drugged and doped, I’m sure.” She demands liver. They promise to send some. She knows they won’t.
What unfolds over the next few days is one of the darkest sequences in the book. Adom fights off wild dogs in his cell while a cyclops named Brontes — the Watchers’ own creation — cracks lightning through the stone corridors. Pythia grips her cell bars and watches through the flashes. She sees the boy’s courage before anyone else does. She sees him hand the beast his comfort rag and say “I was protecting it from them.” And when they finally drug Adom’s milkweed and strap them both down for the final experiment, Pythia — bound in leather, hair wild, screaming at Hephaestus — still has enough fire left to yell across the room: “Boy, you alright!? Told you we’d be strapped like rats!”
Decades later, Pythia tends a blue rose inside a Ferris wheel tower. Themis’s essence lives in that rose, and Pythia has guarded it for longer than most can remember. She pricks her own finger on the thorns without flinching. She channels voices that collapse her body. She refuses to read stolen dreamstones for a god who slams her altar. She is 90% aggression and 100% conviction, and everything she became was forged in those cells — in the dark, beside a boy who didn’t know he would one day be called Apellon’s father. #readnyxmyth #nyxmyth #fantasy #fantasybook #fantasynovel
In NYX MYTH, the Lakermen are squat, fog-riding dwarves who live on the shores of a vast underground lake — and they earned the right to call it theirs. Known in old texts as the Mykálfar (Dark Elves), they’re anything but elegant. Fat, squinty-eyed, mud-wading, opal-eyed little bludgers who fish from canal boats, blow fog horns into the mist, and bet on crab races in lakeside pubs while spraying milkweed at each other.
But their history is enormous. Seven thousand of them spent seventeen years tunnelling through a mountain to bring the waters of the Nile down into the Darkness, creating the lake that became the heart of the underground world. They’re guardians of the doorway, singers and healers, patron saints of women and childbirth — the best midwives in the Darkness, on account of their small hands. Their children ride on canal boats with beady opal eyes, dreaming of the day they can ride the lake themselves.
They also know things the surface world has forgotten. At their festivals they chant the name of Erebos — the great serpent who fell through the mountain and crashed into the lake, whose offspring are the lake worms that swim beneath them still. They drink milkweed broth, scatter salt in betting rings, and spin toy dragons on puppet strings while crabs refuse to move. They’re absurd, ancient, and completely alive — one of those fantasy creations that feels like it was remembered rather than invented. #lakermen #readnyxmyth #nyxmyth #fantasy #fantasybook #fantasynovel
Feelin’ this song tonight, what song are you into right now? music.apple.com/au/album/goo…