Star Thief's Gambit

By Zee

A Thief's Gambit
Steal a relic. Save a sister. Destroy a world.

In a fractured realm where magic is siphoned from dying stars, Lyra, a cunning thief with a gift for celestial lock-picking, faces an impossible heist. Her sister Elara is dying—her body ravaged by unstable stardust magic—and only the Starborn Scepter, a relic holding the last breath of a collapsing star, can cure her. But the scepter lies within the Sky Citadel, a fortress guarded by lethal astral traps and the tyrannical Star Sovereign, whose greed for magic is devouring their world.

To infiltrate the Citadel, Lyra partners with Kael, a disgraced royal guard haunted by his role in the Sovereign's exploitative magic trade. Kael's knowledge of the Citadel's secrets is unmatched—but so is his disdain for thieves. As they forge a reluctant alliance, they navigate crumbling star temples, outwit rebel factions, and confront the Sovereign's sadistic enforcers. But the deeper they delve, the clearer the stakes become: using the scepter to save Elara could unleash its apocalyptic power, accelerating the stars' extinction—and their world's collapse.

Haunted by cryptic visions from the dying star itself, Lyra must choose between loyalty to her sister and the fate of millions. Meanwhile, Kael battles his growing feelings for Lyra and a past that threatens to destroy them both. With time running out and the Rebel Astrologers pushing Lyra to weaponize the scepter, the greatest heist of her life becomes a gambit that could cost her soul—or rewrite the stars forever.

Perfect for fans of Six of Crows (high-stakes heists and morally gray alliances) and The Priory of the Orange Tree (epic stakes and lush worldbuilding), A Thief's Gambit weaves a tale of sacrifice, redemption, and the crushing weight of impossible choices.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zee
• Release date: Apr 2, 2025
• ISBN: 9798230219392

Book preview

Chapter: 1

The Dying Star's Whisper

The air in the Shadow District hung thick and heavy, a cloying mix of stardust residue and desperation. Buildings leaned against each other like weary travelers, their rusted metal siding groaning under the weight of neglect. Above, the artificial sky, a pale imitation of the real thing, flickered intermittently, casting long, distorted shadows that danced with the swirling dust devils.

Lyra moved through this labyrinthine world with the grace of a phantom, her footsteps barely disturbing the grime-coated streets. Her heterochromatic eyes, one the color of a dying ember, the other a glacial blue, scanned the surroundings, taking in every detail – the nervous twitch of a stardust addict, the furtive glances of black marketeers, the rhythmic clang of the Sky Citadel’s machinery in the distance.

Tonight, the shadows were her allies. Tonight, she was hunting.

Her target: a heavily fortified stardust refinery, rumored to be holding a shipment of particularly potent 'blue dust' – the kind that could fetch a king's ransom, or at least keep her sister, Elara, comfortable for a few weeks longer. The refinery was owned by a particularly ruthless member of the Obsidian Guild, a brute known only as 'The Hammer,' whose reputation for brutality was as solid as his namesake.

Most would consider such a target suicide. But Lyra wasn't most. She was a celestial lock-picker, a whisper in the dark, a ghost in the machine. Her fingers, nimble and quick, possessed an uncanny ability to manipulate the intricate magical wards that protected the city's most valuable assets.

She approached the refinery's perimeter, a towering wall of reinforced steel humming with arcane energy. Runes etched into the metal pulsed with a faint, ethereal light, a warning to any would-be trespassers. But Lyra wasn't deterred. This was her dance floor, the magical locks her partners.

From a hidden pouch, she produced a set of specialized tools – delicate probes, shimmering crystals, and a small, intricately carved bone whistle. These weren't mere instruments; they were extensions of her will, conduits for her innate ability to unravel the most complex magical defenses.

She pressed a probe against the wall, its tip glowing as it interacted with the runes. The air crackled with energy as Lyra began to decipher the lock's sequence, her mind a whirlwind of calculations and arcane knowledge. It was like listening to a symphony of starlight, each note a key to unlocking the secrets within.

Minutes stretched into an eternity as she worked, the sweat beading on her brow. The refinery's security systems pulsed and shifted, testing her resolve, but Lyra remained focused, her determination fueled by the image of Elara's frail face.

Finally, with a soft click, the first layer of the lock disengaged. A wave of relief washed over Lyra as she moved onto the next, her movements becoming more fluid, more confident. She was in her element, a master of her craft, dancing on the edge of impossibility.

One by one, the layers fell, the magical wards dissolving before her like illusions. The refinery wall shimmered, a temporary distortion in the fabric of reality, and then, a section of it slid open, revealing a dark, unguarded passage.

Lyra slipped inside, melting into the shadows, a star thief ready to claim her prize. The Shadow District held its breath, waiting to see if she would succeed, if she could defy the odds once again. For in this city of broken dreams, Lyra was more than just a thief; she was a symbol of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, a single spark of defiance could ignite a revolution.

The flickering lamplight cast long, dancing shadows across the cramped confines of their shared dwelling in the Shadow District. Lyra knelt beside Elara's cot, her brow furrowed with worry as she watched her sister's shallow, ragged breaths. Elara's once vibrant skin now held a disturbing crystalline sheen, a telltale sign of advanced stardust sickness. The air around her shimmered faintly, a visual manifestation of the unstable magic coursing through her veins.

Lyra gently brushed a stray strand of hair from Elara's forehead, her heart aching with a familiar pang of helplessness. Each day, the sickness tightened its grip, stealing away Elara's vitality and replacing it with a volatile, unpredictable energy. The healers in the Shadow District, those who hadn't succumbed to the lure of stardust themselves, offered only grim prognoses and ineffective remedies. Their knowledge of stardust sickness was limited, their resources even more so.

The rasping cough that wracked Elara's frame sent a jolt of fear through Lyra. It was growing more frequent, more violent. Lyra knew, with a chilling certainty, that time was running out. The whispers she'd overheard in the dimly lit corners of the Shadow District spoke of a cure, a legend shrouded in myth and guarded by impossible obstacles: the Starborn Scepter.

Lyra's mind raced, sifting through the fragments of stories she'd heard throughout her life. The Scepter, a relic said to contain the last breath of a dying star, was rumored to possess the power to heal any ailment, to mend even the most corrupted magic. But it was also said to be locked away in the Sky Citadel, the impenetrable fortress of the Star Sovereign, a place as far removed from the Shadow District as the stars themselves.

The Sky Citadel. The very name conjured images of shimmering towers, gleaming defenses, and an army of loyal guards. It was a fool's errand, a suicide mission. But Lyra knew she had no other choice. Elara was her everything, the only family she had left. She would brave any danger, overcome any obstacle, to save her sister's life.

A wave of determination washed over Lyra, hardening her resolve. She would steal the Starborn Scepter, no matter the cost. She would infiltrate the Sky Citadel, navigate its treacherous corridors, and outwit the Sovereign himself if she had to. Elara's life depended on it.

Lyra rose from her kneeling position, her gaze fixed on the distant, shimmering silhouette of the Sky Citadel that pierced the artificial sky above the Shadow District. It seemed an impossible distance away, a beacon of hope and despair all at once. But Lyra was no stranger to impossible tasks. She was a thief, a survivor, a celestial lock-picker with a knack for bending the rules of magic to her will.

She glanced back at Elara, her face pale and drawn in sleep. A silent promise passed between them, a vow of unwavering love and sacrifice. Lyra would not fail. She would bring back the Starborn Scepter, and she would save her sister, even if it meant risking everything.

The weight of her decision settled upon her shoulders, heavy but not unbearable. It was a burden she willingly carried, a testament to the unbreakable bond between sisters. The Dying Star's whisper echoed in her mind, a faint but persistent call to action. The heist had begun.

Lyra knew the risks were immense. Failure meant not only her own demise but also the irreversible decline of Elara. The Sovereign's grip on star magic was tightening, and the Shadow District was slowly suffocating under the weight of stardust pollution. The Scepter was more than just a cure; it was a symbol of hope in a world teetering on the brink of collapse.

Lyra's heterochromia seemed to intensify in the dim light, her one eye the color of a dying star reflecting the desperation in her heart, the other a cold, distant blue mirroring the unwavering resolve that burned within her soul. She was ready to face the darkness, to confront the impossible, to become the Star Thief her sister needed her to be.

She reached for her lock-picking tools, the familiar weight of the intricate instruments grounding her in the present moment. Each pick, each lever, each delicate adjustment was a step closer to the Sky Citadel, a step closer to Elara's salvation. The heist was not just a mission; it was an act of love, a testament to the enduring power of family in a world consumed by greed and corruption.

Lyra took a deep breath, steeling herself for the challenges ahead. The Shadow District held its own dangers, but the Sky Citadel was a different beast altogether. It was a fortress of magic and technology, guarded by the Sovereign's most loyal and ruthless soldiers. But Lyra had a secret weapon: her unwavering determination and her love for Elara, a force more powerful than any magic the Sovereign could wield.

As she slipped out into the night, the shadows seemed to embrace her, concealing her movements and amplifying her resolve. The Dying Star's whisper grew louder, guiding