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Have you ever fallen in love with something or someone? No, perhaps not. Have you ever become a fan of something or someone—so deeply that you practically breathed the object of your adoration? To the point where every day you woke up thinking that you lived in the same world as the one you adored, and your room was covered in things connected to them?
Esther had never felt such a thing and didn’t really understand it. She was one of Zeus’s illegitimate daughters—one he had conveniently forgotten about. And thank the Moirai for that, because seeing how hard her brother Heracles worked because of their father, the little star was terrified that she would also be forced to do the dirty work. Or that Hera might redirect all her rage at the poor child instead of at her unfaithful husband.
Truthfully, the girl tried not to interact with the gods at all. They didn’t interest her. Perhaps it was because of her nature and her role as a guiding star for travelers. Or perhaps because, judging by Heracles’ stories, they were… not very pleasant. Esther was always far more fascinated by mortals—their culture, customs, and everything in between. Heracles simply nodded and occasionally added something interesting.
It was among mortals that she first noticed this sort of… hobby? Back then, the little star absolutely failed to understand the point of it. Even when this hobby was directed toward gods, it still seemed strange. But when a mortal became obsessed with another person—or even a simple book with a basic plot—well, in such cases Esther just shrugged and assumed it was some peculiar human trait.
Until she met the Night herself. Primordial Chaos, thank you so much for creating her! Esther saw the woman entirely by accident. She was flying over Erebus to check for remnants of Chronos’s army when she suddenly spotted Nyx at a crossroads talking to one of her daughters.
She, she, she… she was breathtaking! No—not just that—divinely beautiful! Esther had never used that phrase before, because as Heracles said, it was just another expression the gods invented to separate themselves from mortals. But oh, how perfectly it suited Nyx. And when Esther managed to hear even a little of the Night’s voice, she nearly fell to the ground—it was that enchanting.
After that day, the young demigoddess began to lose her mind over Nyx. She wanted to know everything possible about her: her favorite season, the colors she preferred, the food she ate, what she hated most. Esther became so engrossed that she even learned how many children Night had and what each of them embodied. Honestly, Esther was, to put it mildly, shocked by their number, and she simply couldn’t understand how they came into existence if Nyx had no… well… husbands?
Apparently, she just hadn’t dug deep enough. Since the Olympians didn’t particularly like Night herself, gathering information about her was very difficult. As for temples with statues—there were practically none at all. So the girl couldn’t admire the object of her devotion even through marble likenesses.
So what did Esther do when she learned this? Naturally, she decided to create her own secret corner in one of the war-ruined houses. No one would come to the city for centuries anyway, and the items had to be hidden somewhere. Especially considering how hard she had worked to obtain them.
It might seem like she had many options to acquire items related to Nyx—portraits, statues—but here lay the problem: almost none of them were suitable, because the girl wanted absolutely no one to discover this shame. It sounded ridiculous: a young demigoddess worshipping Night herself!
Her options… well. Hermes, for instance. He could get anything from anywhere, of course, but he worked with Lord Charon—and Charon was Nyx’s son. He could easily tell him about such strange purchases, triggering a chain reaction that would expose the truth.
Or through Melinoë and Zagreus, the children of Hades and Persephone who occasionally visited the surface after the war. Esther had heard of the young witch from her brother, but he did not speak well of her. He said she was too bothersome and he didn’t want to deal with her. So the little star didn’t want to either. And Zagreus—being Nyx’s adoptive son—was untouchable for the same reason as Hermes.
Another option was descending into Tartarus, but… ignoring the fact that Nyx lived down there—and that descending meant meeting her—Esther simply could not go down. It sounded strange, but something blocked her path. She realized this when she tried to see what that Tartarus was like, and simply lifting one leg resulted in her instantly losing her foot. Divine blood healed her, but she did not wish to repeat the experience. Her strange nature apparently barred her from entering Tartarus.
She also couldn’t ask Heracles. They rarely met due to their work. Esther saved mortals by guiding them far from the divine war, while Heracles carried out tasks from their so-called father. Besides, the little star saw clearly that her brother was mentally exhausted, and had no time for her requests and whims.
So she dug everything up herself from ruined houses. She tried crafting items based on stories or from memories of their brief “encounter.”
***
Esther, smiling, walked toward her secret hideout. In her hands was a dress modeled after the one Nyx wore. She had spent a very long time persuading Arachne to help her make it. The spider-woman, likely due to Esther’s divine origins, didn’t want to help, but after long pleading and gifts, she agreed. Of course, most of the work was done by Esther herself, with Arachne simply giving commands, but the result was nearly an exact replica of Night’s dress.
The girl was almost at the house when she suddenly saw movement in a window. Frightened, she clutched the fabric and approached slowly. Please don’t let it be an animal that will destroy everything. Please don’t let it be an animal! She dimmed the light coming from her hair and peeked into the window. Oh, Moirai, it would have been better if it had been an animal.
In the middle of the hideout stood Nyx herself, examining the items carefully arranged on the tables. The woman delicately picked up one of the figurines Esther had made from memory. Up close—looking at the object of her devotion—one could say the figurine was nowhere near accurate. Perhaps Night realized this too, because the emotion on her face was impossible for the girl to decipher.
Nyx shifted her gaze to another object, and the little star screamed internally. It was one of the extinguished candles with various night-themed engravings. Esther remembered perfectly that Nyx, as Darkness and Night incarnate, would definitely pay attention to items hidden in shadows. Esther couldn’t constantly stay near the hideout and light it, so she used the oldest method—candles, which she decorated for aesthetic pleasure with designs related to the Night.
It took a lot of time and was, in some sense, pointless since candles would eventually melt, but they were so beautiful. And apparently, the last time she had been exhausted from working on them and simply forgot to close the window even slightly—allowing the wind to blow out the only source of light. She needed something more reliable.
Meanwhile, as Esther debated where to flee after this crushing humiliation, Nyx examined her own portraits. Some were from this era, but others were quite old and restored by Esther herself. In those, Nyx had an entirely different look—her face far colder and more distant. Many disliked such art, but the little star didn’t care at all. The woman was magnificent in all eras and in all forms.
Then Nyx froze and quickly turned her head toward the window. Esther immediately ducked to the ground, thinking about what to do next. Run? Confess? Pretend she was just passing by? She grew more and more nervous as the woman slowly approached the window. When Night’s nails tapped the windowsill, Esther squeaked and shot upward, dropping the fabric to the ground.
She needed to get as far away from this mortifying shame as possible! Heracles had said he had a quiet corner on Olympus, hadn’t he? Perfect! In that case, the little star hoped he wouldn’t scold her too much if she came to him to die of embarrassment for a while.