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Chase woke to the sound of distant bells.
Not real bells.
The palace had no city around it, no streets, no neighbors. The sound drifted through the windows from the garden below, where impossible things bloomed.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
Outside, the garden had become a marketplace again.
Rows of colorful tents stretched between marble trees. Merchants called out offers in languages Chase didn't understand. Children ran through crowds carrying baskets of fruit.
None of them were alive.
They were memories.
Stolen places.
Entire districts swallowed by wars, disasters, and the slow erosion of history. Nox had gathered them all, preserving them inside his realm the way other people preserved pressed flowers.
Tomorrow the garden might be a harbor that had sunk beneath the sea centuries ago.
The day after that, perhaps a city square burned during a conquest.
The God of Thieves stole many things.
Sometimes he stole moments.
Chase looked away from the window.
The sight always left him feeling strangely sad.
A servant brought tea soon after.
The servants were made from magic, quiet and polite. Chase thanked them anyway as he always did.
By noon he wandered the halls.
The palace was enormous.
Too enormous for only two people.
His footsteps echoed against polished stone.
Then he reached the corridor.
The corridor.
Immediately Chase turned around.
"No."
He walked faster.
He knew what waited there.
Portraits.
Hundreds of them.
Thousands, perhaps.
Every wall covered.
Every version of him.
When he had been divine.
When he had been beautiful in ways mortals weren't meant to be.
When artists painted him not because they knew him, but because they worshipped him.
The Muse.
The Golden One.
The Inspiration.
Chase swallowed.
He hated that hallway.
Not because the paintings were ugly.
Because they weren't.
They were too beautiful.
None of them looked like him anymore.
He escaped into the dining room instead.
Lunch was already prepared.
Roasted vegetables.
Fresh bread.
Honey.
Tea.
The sort of meal a king might receive.
Chase ate quietly while waiting.
Waiting for Nox.
He always waited for Nox.
By evening the doors finally opened.
A familiar figure stepped inside.
Dark robes.
Silver jewelry.
A grin that looked perpetually guilty.
Nox.
The God of Thieves carried three armfuls of stolen treasures.
A jeweled crown.
A silver candlestick.
A painting still wet with fresh oil.
"Welcome home," Chase said.
Nox immediately dropped everything.
The crown rolled across the floor.
The candlestick clattered into a chair.
Nox crossed the room in seconds.
"There you are."
"You saw me yesterday."
"I know."
Nox kissed his forehead.
"Terrible separation."
Chase laughed softly.
"You were gone for six hours."
"An eternity."
Nox sat beside him and rested his head on Chase's shoulder.
For a god, he could be remarkably needy.
"What did you steal today?" Chase asked.
"A kingdom."
"Nox."
"A small kingdom."
"Nox."
"A village."
Chase gave him a look.
Nox sighed dramatically.
"A painting."
"There."
"A very nice painting."
Chase smiled.
Then his smile faded.
His eyes had drifted toward the corridor.
The portrait corridor.
Nox noticed immediately.
His expression softened.
"You looked?"
"No."
"You almost looked."
Chase stared at his tea.
For a moment neither spoke.
Finally Nox stood.
"Come with me."
"Nox."
"Come on."
"I don't want to."
"I know."
That somehow made it worse.
Nox gently took his hand.
The god could steal crowns from emperors and cities from history itself.
Yet he always handled Chase like something fragile.
Together they walked toward the corridor.
Chase's stomach twisted.
"No."
"Just one."
"Nox."
"One portrait."
They entered.
The walls seemed endless.
Paintings covered every inch.
Chase wearing robes of sunlight.
Chase standing among stars.
Chase crowned with laurel leaves.
Chase smiling.
Chase singing.
Chase creating.
Divine.
Perfect.
Untouchable.
Chase looked away.
"I don't like this room."
Nox squeezed his hand.
"I know."
"They aren't me."
"They are."
"No."
Chase's voice cracked slightly.
"They loved the Muse."
His gaze traveled over the paintings.
"They loved a god."
Silence.
"They never loved Chase."
The room grew quiet.
Nox looked at the portraits.
Then at the man beside him.
The mortal.
The one with messy hair from sleep.
The one who forgot where he left books.
The one who talked to flowers because he thought nobody was listening.
The one who frowned at ugly paintings and cried over sad stories.
The one he had spent centuries searching for.
Nox stepped closer.
"I stole all of these."
Chase nodded.
"I know."
"Do you know why?"
Chase shrugged.
"Because you're a thief."
A laugh escaped Nox.
"That too."
His hand brushed the frame of the nearest portrait.
"But mostly because I was afraid."
Chase blinked.
"Afraid?"
"You disappeared."
The smile vanished from Nox's face.
"You lost your divinity."
His voice was suddenly very quiet.
"And I couldn't find you."
Chase listened.
"So I collected these."
Nox looked around the room.
"Every painting."
"Every statue."
"Every sketch."
"Every scrap of evidence that you existed."
His fingers trembled slightly.
"As if keeping them would somehow keep you from being gone."
Chase stared at him.
"Nox..."
"I don't love him."
Nox pointed at a portrait of the divine Muse.
The painting practically glowed.
"I loved him once."
His finger lowered.
Then gently touched Chase's cheek.
"But I love you."
The mortal.
The human.
The imperfect version.
The real one.
Nox smiled sadly.
"The god inspired artists."
His thumb brushed Chase's skin.
"You inspire me."
For a moment Chase couldn't speak.
His gaze wandered across the endless paintings.
For the first time he noticed something.
Not a single portrait had been hung in the palace's central halls.
Not one was displayed in the throne room.
Not one stood beside Nox's throne.
They were all hidden here.
Stored away.
Like relics.
Like memories.
Because Nox wasn't living with the Muse anymore.
He was living with Chase.
Slowly Chase leaned his head against Nox's shoulder.
The God of Thieves immediately wrapped both arms around him.
Possessively.
Relieved.
As if Chase might vanish again.
"I still don't like this room," Chase muttered.
Nox laughed.
"That's fine."
"Can we leave?"
"Of course."
They turned toward the door.
The portraits remained behind.
Thousands of beautiful gods trapped in paint and canvas.
And none of them followed.
Because the one Nox loved was walking beside him.