“Ah.” There was a small earthquake in response as if Gaia was stretching out her limbs in exasperation. “Men will always go to other men in the time of their ego’s needs.”
Nyx’s heart sank. “This is what I fear. You hear all that happens on Earth, Gaia. Is this worth my attention, for the human’s sake, as Erebus claims?”
There was another great swath of silence.
“It is another one of the many battles that men will have. Whether they are titan, God, or primordial. Menfolk will never stop. Zeus was always going to revolt against Kronos. My husband’s curse has come to pass.” Gaia paused once more before continuing as if she was chewing on her words and evaluating their toxicity. “This war will determine the immortal’s struggle for power for the next millennia. Whomever arises, will stake their claim on Mt. Olympus for the rest of Greece’s history.”
Nyx felt her heart stop.Was I wrong to rebuke Erebus so? This doesn’t seem like it’s a passing fleet of patricide.
Gaia could hear her thoughts in the Earth.
“Take heart. While this may determine who takes ownership of the Grecian skies, the balance will never be more important. The darkness, death, night incarnate… These things must always remain the same… so the world can withstand the bickering of fragile gods.”
“What… What of Erebus?” Nyx cursed the catch in her voice when she asked, thankful that she wasn’t in human form.
“I cannot speak to the future of souls. I only speak of what will happen to Earth. For that, you must seek the Fates.”
“I understand. Thank you, Mother.” Nyx’s heart was no lighter as she prepared to depart to Asphodel.
“Hear me once more, Night, before I return to the depths of your sanctuary for a hundred years.” Nyx paused. “These are, indeed, the whims of men and gods. You are not wrong to avoid the skirmishes of my family. There will be more in the future, and this one, while large, will be no different. But if you fight… everything will fall before the darkness.”
There was a large creaking sound as if a thousand trees had snapped in half, and the hills flattened out in front of Nyx. In an instant, the landscape in front of her had plateaued. Gaia had returned to the center of the Earth to wait out the war of her sons and grandsons.
Nyx took a deep breath, struggling with the weight of what Gaia had confirmed for her.
Maybe Gaia has the right idea.
6
500 Years Earlier
The earth shook as the stones came crumbling down, sending shockwaves through the ground. The temple that stood there had once been a sight of great pilgrimage, a testament to the power of the darkness and the balance of life. The pine trees around it whistled when the wind blew in from the water, carrying the smell of salt and sun. By design, it was when the sun set that the temple really shined, the white stones glowing in the blackness like a constellation come to earth. It had been crafted slowly, painstakingly, to be the most beautiful when the sun had set. A long foyer, flanked with columns, lead into an open-air dome that celebrated the sight of the moon and stars above it. They said that the power of the darkness kept the rain from falling in the temple even when it was pouring outside.
The smell of incense always flooded the clearing and the woods around it, letting the nearby villagers know the priestesses were at work. Tapestries sewn from purple and black hung down from the altars, bodices of the goddess made from black stone offered up gentle expressions of acceptance. In the very center of the great temple was its altar, always being attended, lit with fire as flowers, kindling, and oil were thrown into it to keep it fed. The mosaic floor held an alternating pattern of lunar shapes, the cycles of the moon etched into a circle around the atrium. Behind the altar was the temple’s shining glory, a statue of black marble that was over seven feet tall, the only one that existed of the night in her human form.
It fell the hardest.
Hera watched it hit the ground with a sick sense of satisfaction. Priests toiled on her behalf, pulling the banners from the hanging rafters and toppling statues and busts. Yet, it was the sound of the heavy brass altar falling that sounded like a death knell as it hit the broken pavement. The fires from the temple had spread around them, catching the nearby trees, and creating a burgeoning wildfire.
The temple fell around them in pieces—looters already descending on the borders of the wreckage—and the holy space was no more. Its former acolytes were huddled together on the corner of the clearing, watching with tears in their eyes in horror as their sanctuary vanished in moments.
“What are we going to do?” one of them cried as she gripped her sisters.
“Nothing. We are no match for the strength of these men.”
“They should be worried about their own heads. Who believes that they can desecrate a temple of Nyx and get away with it?” The priestess shook her head in disbelief.
“They are priests of Hera.” Another woman, the newest convert, shook her head. “Nyx does not have the power that she once did.” The priestess’s eyes flashed cold.
“Watch your tongue.” Her voice was like iron. “These are new gods. Man has only just begun to worship them, and they will fall prey to the fickle follies of their new idols.”
“Then where is she?” The convert challenged, taking a step towards the priestess. “If the goddess of the night cared, don’t you think that she would have put a stop to this?”
“Do not question the will of the gods,” another acolyte cut in.
“Nyx is not agod.”The priestess cut them all off with a glance that could start a fire. “Sheis night.I will not question that, no more than I will question why the sun rises. We will begin again…” Her voice trailed off as two priests ambled over to where the woman was standing. The priestess turned to face them, her head held high despite her disheveled appearance. The other acolytes hid behind her. These were the priests of the new gods, who carried swords and wore armor, unlike any of the priests that the women had known before. Men had found religion.
“What shall we do with them?” one of them asked, chewing his lip as his hands rested easily on his sword. There was an expression in his eyes that the priestess had seen too many times for comfort.
