The Lost Library J a m e s O. m i l l e r The lOsT libr ary They sought the lost Library of Alexandria, hidden somewhere deep within the Byzantine Empire. A historicAL novEL James O. Miller An Ovi Magazine Books Publication 2026 Ovi Project Publication - All material is copyright of the Ovi magazine & the writer C Ovi books are available in Ovi magazine pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: submissions@ovimagazine.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, printed or digital, altered or selectively extracted by any means (electronic, mechanical, print, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author or the publisher of this book. The Lost Library The Lost Library James O. Miller James O. Miller An Ovi Magazine Books Publication 2026 Ovi Project Publication - All material is copyright of the Ovi magazine & the writer C The Lost Library T he sun had just dipped below the hori- zon, its last fiery remnants staining the sky blood red. Cyprus, in the waning hours of day, appeared to hold its breath. In the valley below, the air was thick with the stench of dust and sweat as a convoy of soldiers and scholars pressed forward, their tired horses plodding along the narrow, wind- ing road. Torches flickered on the wagons, casting long, jagged shadows that danced like ghosts on the stone walls. The convoy was small, less than two dozen men, barely half of them soldiers; yet their mission was un- like any other. They were here for a purpose that could shake the very foundation of history. They sought the lost Library of Alexandria, hidden somewhere deep within the Byzantine Empire. Knowledge. Power. A treasure greater than gold, and far more dangerous. James O. Miller Captain Theodoros Grigoros led them, his dark eyes scanning the path ahead, his senses honed like a blade. The silence was thick, a storm waiting to break. Every nerve in his body was on edge. The past two months of travel had taken their toll, through sandstorms in the deserts of Egypt, perilous moun- tain passes and now in the heart of enemy territory, they were close. Too close. “You feel it, don’t you?” Nikos, his second-in-com- mand, spoke low, his voice gruff, like the scraping of old leather. A veteran of too many wars, Nikos had the look of a man who’d seen the world unravel, piece by piece. His face was scarred, one jagged line run- ning down the left side of his cheek. “They’ll be wait- ing for us. You know that, Theodoros.” Theodoros didn’t answer at first. His knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword, the metal cool against his calloused fingers. His heart thudded in his chest like a drumbeat, steady and unyielding. He had felt it too, the air of impending danger. The knowl- edge that they were being hunted. But he would not show weakness to his men. Not now. “They can wait,” Theodoros muttered, his voice hard with resolve. “We’ll give them a fight they won’t forget.” The Lost Library A flash of movement in the distance caught his eye. A silhouette against the backdrop of the jagged hills. His instincts flared. “Nikos, take the men to the rear,” Theodoros barked, his hand raised, signalling for the convoy to halt. “Something’s not right.” The convoy came to a sudden, jarring stop. Torches sputtered in the sudden stillness. Nikos narrowed his eyes, scanning the surroundings. There was nothing, nothing but the encroaching darkness and the cold wind that swept across the valley. The soldiers shifted uneasily, their grips tightening on their weapons. “Captain, you’re imagining things,” Nikos said, but his voice was laced with doubt. Theodoros didn’t trust the doubt in his second’s voice. He could feel the shift in the air, the ominous sense of being watched. It wasn’t just his military training; it was something deeper, instinctual. Some- thing he couldn’t ignore. “They know we’re here,” Theodoros muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “Move out. Stay sharp.” The convoy began to move again, slower this time, each step filled with the unease of men walking to- James O. Miller ward an unknown enemy. The fortress loomed ahead like a specter, its black stone walls a symbol of the Empire’s strength and ruthless resolve. The air grew colder, and the shadows seemed to stretch farther, like fingers creeping along the ground. Theodoros motioned for the wagons to move forward, and as they did, a figure stepped from the darkness, a lone rider on horseback, cloaked in black. His horse’s hooves rang out like a death knell on the stone road. The rider halted a few feet from Theodoros, his face hidden beneath a hood. “Captain Grigoros,” he said in a voice like gravel, low and chilling. “Your pres- ence is... expected.” Theodoros’ hand instinctively went to the sword at his side. “Who are you?” he demanded, his tone de- manding. The rider dismounted with eerie grace, his move- ments too fluid, too calculated. “It does not matter who I am,” the man said, his eyes glinting in the torchlight. “What matters is that you have come for something that belongs to the Empire.” Theodoros’ gaze hardened. “And you’ll do what? Stand in my way?” The Lost Library The rider’s lips curled into a thin smile, but there was no humour in it. “I’ll stop you. If I must.” The man’s hand shot up, and in an instant, the con- voy was surrounded, dozens of men, hidden in the dark, emerging from the shadows like ghosts of war. Byzantines, their armour gleaming in the faint light, swords drawn, their expressions cold and unwaver- ing. Theodoros cursed under his breath. “Nikos!” The battle erupted with a violent ferocity that tore through the silence. Steel clashed with steel, the sound deafening in the still night air. Theodoros swung his sword with precision, cutting down the first attacker that came within reach. His blade moved like light- ning, a blur of deadly strikes as he fought back the advancing tide of enemies. “Protect the scholars!” Theodoros shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. The scholars scram- bled behind the soldiers, clutching their scrolls to their chests, their faces pale with fear. Nikos was in the thick of it, his battle-hardened form cutting through the enemy ranks with brutal efficiency. But even as they fought, the numbers were James O. Miller overwhelming. More enemies seemed to appear from the very shadows themselves. A trap. “Fall back!” Theodoros shouted, realizing that they couldn’t hold their ground much longer. “Fall back to the wagons!” But it was too late. The rider—now joined by another figure, a wom- an with a cruel smile, approached slowly, drawing a long, curved blade from her side. “The relics you seek,” she said, her voice laced with venom, “will never reach your hands.” Theodoros gritted his teeth and rallied his men. They had no choice now. The map, the library, they were all that mattered. Whatever the cost. In the distance, the sounds of reinforcements could be heard, the unmistakable echo of more soldiers on horseback, closing in. “We’ll make them regret this,” Theodoros growled, his voice a mixture of fury and resolve. And with that, the battle raged on, the flickering torches casting long shadows over a field of blood. The storm had broken, and in the midst of it, Theo- The Lost Library doros knew one thing for certain—the quest for the lost library of Alexandria was about to become a war unlike any the world had ever seen. James O. Miller I. The Quest Begins The storm had broken by the time they reached the ancient city of Antioch, a swirling tempest of wind and rain that pelted down upon them like a thousand arrows. The horses’ hooves slapped against the slick stone roads, and the torches that lined their convoy sputtered, casting eerie shadows on the walls of the city. The streets were eerily quiet for a city so full of history and trade, but Theodoros Grigoros felt the tension in the air. Something was wrong. As they reached the outskirts of the city, the qui- et was shattered. A sharp, sudden cry rang through the darkened streets, an ambush. Byzantine soldiers poured from the shadows like a flood, their gleaming armour flashing in the torchlight. The sickly scent of The Lost Library burning oil hit Theodoros’ nose, a sure sign they were prepared for a fight. Theodoros reacted instantly, his instincts honed by years of battle. He barked orders as he drew his blade, the cold steel gleaming in the dim light. “Form a circle around the scholars!” he command- ed, his voice a low growl that carried over the sudden chaos. “We cannot lose the relic. Not now.” The convoy was small, no more than twenty men, a mixture of soldiers and scholars. The scholars, though valuable, were more a liability than anything else, their hands trembling in fear. But they carried something vital, a treasure more important than gold or jewels. As the soldiers began to move in on them, Theo- doros positioned himself between the scholars and the advancing enemies. He turned to Nikos, his sec- ond-in-command, who stood at his side with his bat- tle-worn blade ready. “We’ll hold them back as long as we can,” Nikos said, his voice grim but steady. “You find the map.” Theodoros nodded, feeling the weight of the re- sponsibility settle on his shoulders. The map to the James O. Miller lost Library of Alexandria, the final piece of a puzzle that had eluded the greatest minds for centuries, was in the hands of Demetrius, a scholar trembling with fear in the back of their formation. Theodoros’ heart raced as he caught sight of the fragile scroll the man clutched in his trembling hands. Demetrius held it out to him, his voice barely a whisper in the clamour of battle. “This... this is it,” he said, his words shaking with the weight of history. “The last piece.” Theodoros grabbed the map, rolling it open quick- ly, his gaze flicking over the worn parchment. It was old, the edges curled and stained with age, but The- odoros could see the faint markings, the path that would lead them to the lost knowledge of Alexan- dria, hidden deep within the Byzantine Empire. He heard the unmistakable sound of metal clash- ing, the shrieks of soldiers locked in combat. The am- bush was in full swing, with the first wave of soldiers charging forward like wolves hunting their prey. Theodoros’ blade moved with deadly grace, cutting through the first soldier that came too close. A sharp parry, a twist, and the man crumpled to the ground, blood spraying in an arc. The Lost Library “Hold your ground!” Theodoros shouted, his voice cutting through the din of the battle. “We cannot fail. Protect the map!” A dozen soldiers descended upon them from all sides, their swords raised and ready to strike. Theo- doros fought with a fury born of desperation. Each swing of his blade was a promise, a vow to see the knowledge of Alexandria preserved, to ensure the li- brary did not fall into the hands of those who would use its wisdom for their own gain. Nikos was a blur beside him, his own sword moving in perfect synchronization with Theodoros’ strikes. They fought like a well-oiled machine, each move- ment timed, each step deliberate. But even their skill could not stop the overwhelming number of enemies pressing in from all sides. Demetrius’ voice rang out, high-pitched with pan- ic. “The map! The map... it’s not safe!” Theodoros’ heart skipped a beat. He turned his head just in time to see one of the soldiers reach out, his hand grabbing for the ancient scroll. “No!” Theodoros roared. James O. Miller He cut through the soldier in a flash, his blade slic- ing through the man’s chest. But the damage had al- ready been done. The map, their only chance, was torn at the corner. Theodoros cursed under his breath. The battle continued, the soldiers relentless, and yet, despite the chaos, Theodoros kept his focus. In the back of his mind, he knew they had to move, there were too many of them. And then, a new sound, far worse than the clashing of swords, reached his ears. The unmistakable pounding of hooves. “The cavalry,” Nikos growled, his face pale as he looked back toward the hills where the sound was growing louder. “We’ve got to move.” Theodoros swore under his breath, his eyes darting across the battlefield. The cavalry would finish them off. They had no chance of survival if they didn’t move, quickly. “ to the river! ” Theodoros shouted, his voice thun- derous, cutting through the confusion. “Now!” Without a second thought, he grabbed Demetrius by the arm and pulled him toward the nearest path The Lost Library leading to the riverbank. The scholars followed, run- ning for their lives, while the soldiers fought with everything they had to slow the advance of the en- emy. Nikos was at the front of the line, slashing his way through the Byzantine soldiers as Theodoros pushed the map deeper into his pack, hiding it from sight. The soldiers held firm, but Theodoros knew it was only a matter of time before the cavalry descended upon them like a wave crashing against rocks. As they reached the riverbank, the roar of hooves grew louder, and Theodoros knew they were running out of time. He turned, his heart racing. The soldiers were falling back, but the enemy was relentless. Nikos shouted a warning, his voice full of urgency. “They’re closing in!” Theodoros spun on his heels, drawing his sword as he turned to face the incoming onslaught. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The river was close, but not close enough. “They’ll stop us,” Nikos said through gritted teeth, his blade cutting through another enemy soldier. “We won’t make it.” James O. Miller Theodoros didn’t answer him. He couldn’t afford to. His eyes locked on the leader of the cavalry, a man on horseback wearing a black cloak that billowed like a storm cloud. There was something about the man’s presence that sent a chill through Theodoros, some- thing predatory in his gaze. Without warning, the cavalry surged forward. The first horseman reached them, his sword raised high, but Theodoros was faster. He dove to the side, strik- ing at the horse’s legs, sending the rider crashing to the ground. But more came. More than Theodoros could fight. More than they could stop. “Get to the river!” Theodoros shouted, pushing his soldiers forward, cutting down enemy after enemy. “Move!” But it was too late. The leader of the cavalry was closing in, his eyes cold and unforgiving. Theodoros stood his ground, his blade raised, but he knew they couldn’t win. Not like this. Not against these numbers. A voice called out from behind, from the river- bank. “Captain! We’re leaving! Now!” The Lost Library It was Demetrius. The scholars had reached the water’s edge, and the soldiers had begun to retreat. Theodoros hesitated, but only for a moment. There was no time to lose. With one final strike, Theodoros cut down the last soldier standing between him and the river. He turned and sprinted toward the water, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The cavalry, the soldiers, everything else, faded into the distance as the schol- ars and soldiers disappeared into the night, carrying with them the last hope of recovering the lost library. As the river’s cold water rushed past his boots, The- odoros looked back, feeling the weight of what they had just escaped. He could still hear the pounding of hooves echoing in his mind. But he would not stop. Not now. The quest had begun. And no matter what it took, he would see it through. The knowledge of Alexan- dria would be theirs. James O. Miller II. Betrayal The night was still, save for the distant sounds of horses’ hooves thundering through the mist. The- odoros Grigoros stood at the river’s edge, his eyes scanning the dark horizon as the shadows of the Byzantine cavalry closed in, their torches flickering like a menacing parade of ghosts. The cold wind cut through his cloak, but it was nothing compared to the cold weight settling in his chest. He had led them here, led them into the depths of uncertainty and now, the river was no refuge. “Move!” Theodoros barked at his men, his voice grim. The fatigue in his men’s eyes mirrored his own. They had fought long and hard, yet the cavalry’s pur- suit was relentless. He could see Nikos, his ever-loyal