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Esther wearily approached the door of her hideout. Water slowly ran down her body and dripped onto the ground. She was wrapped in a piece of fabric that clung unpleasantly to her skin because it was soaked through. At last, she had managed to wash herself at the nearest spot close to the hideout. Unlike her brother, the little star did not enjoy going filthy for months just to “harden herself.” Though perhaps that was simply his excuse for some kind of mental instability. Who could ever truly understand Heracles?
Esther carefully stepped inside the half-ruined house. It was fairly well lit with lamps and candles, all of which, of course, bore engraved symbols connected to Nyx. Everywhere around her were objects related to that incredible goddess—from paintings depicting her in different eras to scrolls containing stories about her.
But that wasn’t what interested the little star right now.
She quietly passed by the tables and approached the most important object of all.
The plush version of the woman.
An almost complete copy, save for minor details. Esther gently picked up the toy and went to her corner of the house—which, judging by everything, was now hers.
Honestly, this situation was rather unexpected for her. She was used to sleeping wherever she happened to be: on cold ground, on rooftops, sometimes even in trees—which was, in truth, quite uncomfortable. And now, because of Nyx’s altar and the constant need to watch over it, the demigoddess had to live in one specific place, permanently. It was hard to tell whether that was something to be happy about—or to mourn.
She sat down on one of the pillows in the corner and pressed the plush Nyx to her face, inhaling the pleasant scent of fragrant tobacco and night violets—a fragrance perfectly suited to such an extraordinary goddess. Esther had even found a few scented candles with the same aroma, though she rarely lit them, preferring to conserve supplies.
“How incredible you are…”
she whispered, continuing to breathe in the scent of the plush Night.
“I might sound foolish, but how did primordial Chaos manage to create such a magnificent goddess?”
Esther rested her cheek against the toy.
“You are… I don’t even know how to describe you. Every gesture, every word, every movement—it’s a work of art. As if Zeuxis himself had painted you.”
The little star closed her eyes, rubbing her cheek against the plush Nyx.
“And yet, you have flaws too—but even those, you make beautiful. Gods and mortals alike shout that you misunderstood everything, that it’s all your fault, but you…”
She inhaled the scent of Night once more.
“But you accept it all as something natural. Something inevitable. Majestic and graceful. Your mistakes don’t make one want to scold or protest—no. They make one want to clap and praise how beautifully they were made.”
Esther let out a heavy sigh and suddenly stomped angrily on the floor.
“Why you?! Why did I have to become interested in you?! Why not Apollo? Or Aphrodite, if I had to choose someone unusual?”
She turned the plush Nyx to look into the yellow button eyes.
“But no—I had to choose Darkness itself. And I don’t even care that you’re a woman and not a man! I became interested in my natural enemy! I’m a guiding star! I’m supposed to drive darkness away so travelers can find their path—not seek it out just to… meet it.”
She inhaled sharply again, staring at the toy with resentment.
“And I can’t even blame you. You don’t know me at all. We’ve never met.”
She hesitated.
“Well… I’ve seen you. But you haven’t seen me. And there’s no point in seeking a meeting anyway.”
Thoughtfully, she lifted her gaze to the cracked ceiling.
“Compared to you, I’m barely a few years old. You’re my great-great-great-great—far too many ‘greats’—grandmother. And I’m your great-great-even-more-great granddaughter.”
Esther tilted her head to the side.
“Even my father can’t compare to you in age. Maybe only that old Time grandfather can—and even then, I’m not sure. I don’t want to ask that villain, and I can’t anyway. He’s sealed down there, and I can’t go down. I’d die.”
She looked back at the plush Nyx.
“If I were your age… and if I could descend into Tartarus… could we at least be friends?”
She considered the idea for a moment, imagining it—then let out a small, nervous laugh.
“No. Probably not. I’d be too afraid to even approach you, let alone speak to you. Even without age and circumstances, we stand on completely different levels.”
The little star sniffed and began tapping her feet again.
“Why? Why—WHY did the Moirai decide I had to become interested in you?! What was the point?! Were they trying to get revenge on my father for his affairs? He doesn’t even remember me! Does he even know I exist?! Were they trying to hurt me? What did I ever do?! I just did the job I was given—that’s all!”
Esther squeezed the plush Night tightly in her arms.
“And if they’re trying to bring us together…”
She blushed faintly and began speaking rapidly.
“Which is obviously nonsense and sounds like the ramblings of a madwoman! Esther, be serious—no one would ever pair such a goddess with a demigod like you!”
She sighed and looked toward the wall.
“But if—purely hypothetically—they want something from me. Something that would make their mother happy… then they chose very poorly. There’s nothing special about me. I don’t have the best personality. I can talk normally with my brother, but with others I can barely answer a question, let alone an insult.”
Her gaze drifted over the tables filled with objects dedicated to Nyx.
“And my obsession isn’t even worth mentioning. It’s just not normal. I’m exactly what mortals call a fanatic… ah yes, a ‘simp.’ Compared to such a magnificent woman, I can’t even look at myself.”
She squinted at her handmade creations depicting the goddess.
“I have no talent either. Apollo, Hephaestus—any god or even a mortal could make far better things. It took me countless attempts just to make your plush version, and compared to you, it looks awful.”
The demigoddess looked back at the toy.
“And I have no wealth. You should be showered with gold, jewels, silks. What can I give you? I could maybe pick some flowers—and that’s it. I can’t even make you a gift worthy of your beauty.”
She stared at her hands, frowning.
“My power is pitiful compared to yours. Even compared to my siblings, I’m nearly useless. I glow. I fly. I can spark a fire—but that’s all. I can barely protect myself, let alone someone like you.”
Her hands clenched into fists as she trembled slightly.
“My appearance is no better. Comparing myself to you is pointless—you’re incomparably beautiful even among the gods of this age. I’m covered in ugly cracks. My skin is like porcelain—not metaphorically, but almost literally. It requires constant care, which I can’t manage. Even my facial expressions are hard to convey because of it.”
She looked at her chest, where light shone from the spark that served as her heart.
“And this awful spark. At least it doesn’t shine too brightly—but it still looks terrible. And my figure… well. I probably resemble a plank more than an ideal hourglass.”
She whimpered softly and pressed her face into the plush Nyx.
“Why you… It would’ve been easier if I’d fallen for some drunk, like Heracles said, instead of you. At least that problem would’ve been easier to solve.”
Esther exhaled shakily, closing her eyes.
“If the Moirai wanted me to suffer my entire life, then Melinoë shouldn’t have freed them. They should’ve stayed imprisoned. It wouldn’t hurt this much.”
The little star carefully lay down on the pillows, still holding the plush goddess in her arms.
“But if I’m destined to bear this unrequited longing—then so be it. I’ll endure it. I just hope you won’t judge me… or look at me with disgust.”
She sniffed once more and settled more comfortably on her improvised bed. She didn’t want anything now—not even those foolish dreams. All she wanted was emptiness, a place where she didn’t have to think about inner pain or the unfairness of life.
And, fortunately, a sudden warmth—like someone gently covering her—allowed her to drift into that state very quickly.