Night was endless where she walked. Her presence rid the world of light. Her long, luscious jet-black hair seemed to hide the mysteries of the stars and cosmos. The void shook, as if congratulating her passing. Her eyes were a subtle personification of the void itself—never-ending and existing. Her elegant presence put even the most posh of nobility to utter shame. Then she came to a halt, as if the cosmos itself felt her lingering craving. In the depths of Tartarus lay her mansion of shadows, a realm entered only by herself. Her pale skin contributed to her alluringness and illusionment. From the black expanse, a whisper moved—a herald of something, a spark in the Sovereigness of Night's heart.
As the terrain of the void continued to spread, a lady walked out. She was tall and imposing, yet she exuded an aura of gentleness, patience, and invulnerability. Her long streaks of black hair, with faint silver, shimmered like the stars in space. Her piercing violet eyes shook the entirety of night. Across her elegant dark violet robes lay ancient runes, weaved with such complexity they put the fundamental laws of the universe to shame. The space itself bent to her will, as the shadows laid by the primordial entity before her retreated in utter shock.
As she laid her eyes on her beloved, her voice—melodic, calm, and charming—soothed the nerves of the shadows as she said, "No need to worry. I won't hurt you." The statement was as gentle as it was authoritative. The shadows, hearing her, faintly jingled as her voice reached them. She quickly faced her beloved—the goddess of night herself, Nyx.
"Rid yourself of your powers temporarily," Nyx said, her voice deep, echoing, cosmic in nature. It seemed to encompass entire galaxies in its allure. The figure in front of her instantaneously disappeared from her sight, but she could still feel her partner through the bond they shared. She wondered where her lover had gone but did not worry, as she was expecting a surprise.
She walked on the streak of shadows laid out for her, elegant and regal, as she took in her creation—this void, or as she liked to call it, the home of the mist, her own domain, her greatest invention, and something now so ingrained in the world it shaped the future. She had originally created it to fool the gods, but she had not accounted for herself being so addicted and obsessed with this project. However, it had turned out miraculously well, as even now she was here, preparing for a date with her sweetheart and paramour.
In the faint distance, she could see a table laid with food on the horizon, and she calmly and slowly walked towards it. Nyx was also there, beside her, walking to the table on another road. "This is so cute and kind of her. I'll have to reward her," she said silently to herself.
As the two finally laid eyes on each other properly, Nyx, the primordial goddess, smirked as she signaled for Hecate to look at the ground where her shadow lay. Hecate turned fully red as she realized. They were at a crossroads, the symbol of her power. I should have noticed, she thought to herself. As she figured it out once again, she wondered why she had fallen in love with this stupid goddess.
As they sat at the table, locking eyes, Hecate felt something stir that no spell could ever do. An intense feeling exited from her heart as her primal desires set all hell loose in her body. Even the slightest word from Nyx made her as red as a tomato. Her body hotter than a fiery sea, her veins coursed with magic as she regained control over her domains. Immediately, she cast a spell to compose herself, but that didn't stop the primordial goddess, as she realized they were already trapped in her domain.
"Don't do anything rash," Nyx said, her voice driving Hecate to points she hadn't known existed. Her presence tasted like blackberries soaked in dew, with a slight icy frost that could chase anyone away. Once again, she mused at how lucky she was to have such a gorgeous lover. Their interactions always left Hecate with a sense of longing and eternal excitement, as she knew her heart was beating faster than ever before. Her ichor—god-blood—pulsed through her veins like electricity, trying to help her regain her senses as Nyx asked, "Are you okay, my love? Do you need help?"
Seeing Nyx in that state definitely didn't help her instead it added to her current problems. Why did she have to be so irresistible in her intricate long black robe, cleavage open for her to see? Her hair, eyes, mouth, nose, and body drove Hecate crazy, as she began to say, "Nyx, I love you so much and you are so beautiful. May I kiss you?" She said, and Nyx nodded, bewildered at why Hecate had asked such a question when they normally just did it.
Hecate jumped on the table as her robes fell up to her knees. She kissed Nyx on the lips, her hands moving to the back of her head, pulling the kiss into eternity. "I want to have sex," she said, blushing so hard it made Nyx almost cry. As the primordial finally answered, "Yes, my love," their hands met in the void, and the stars themselves seemed to twist into a cradle. Shadow and fire intertwined into a glorious union. Their connection came together in a cosmic bond, driven not only by lust but by desire—not for pleasure, but to have a child to create a being who could cross boundaries once deemed implausible, break rules that shaped the world, and even eventually surpass the two of them—the most powerful goddesses in existence.
For the first time in history, the stars aligned to meet and shimmer with strange, ghastly fire. Whispers echoed throughout space, and all users of the void sensed an uncharacterized boost in power that night. Their shadows moved together as a sea of twilight spread into the void. They continued with their events, letting lust take control for three days and three nights. As goddesses, they couldn't get tired, but continuous sex was boring, so they stopped when Hecate said so. However, as they stopped, they felt an essence taken out of both of them.
The cosmos held its breath. Suddenly, an ebony cocoon spurred into existence. It shimmered like the stars in the night. Woven not from cloth or silk, but from the very concepts of magic and darkness. Nyx herself sent divine protection via her infinite essence, wrapping the spectral form. Hecate did even more—she traced ancient sigils around the cocoon, spells to cover the phenomena. She mused to herself why not cast an acceleration spell, and that she did, but the spell to protect the phenomenon couldn't prevent the inevitable force from knowing.
The faint hum of the void, sporadic and calm, belonged to the whispers of magic—obsessive and driven in compulsion—and the distant echo of the stars craving unity. The smooth shadows wrapping the cocoon were moth-like, sandpapered, and filed to perfection; nothing was amiss. The tingling magic in the air sent signals to her body. The faint hum of her heartbeats, the shining flickering of the void, illuminated everything.
A moderately short woman stepped into the void. Her hair was golden, her eyes blue. Her short hair complemented a regal, ethereal crown atop her head. She was bound to happen, Nyx thought to herself. The goddess of inevitability, a concept of existence itself, controls death and life, albeit on a relatively minor scale. She is the goddess of what is yet to happen, what must happen, and what hasn't yet come to be—Ananke, the goddess of destiny.
The cocoon pulsed gently, as if a heartbeat responded to the rhythm of the forces on the void. The shadows twisted in slithering anticipation, excited about the new life within. From the outside, one would hear a heartbeat thought impossible, sensing that this child rendered impossibility itself possible.
The cocoon tightened and loosened, reacting to the child within. It was protective yet restrictive, caring but strict—a living paradox. Inside, the shape of a child began to form, not yet flesh and bone as mortals knew, but a gathering of divine essence and a spark of life. Hecate's sigils glowed slowly, illuminating the contours of the cocoon as the primordial goddess's presence settled over it. This child would bring reckoning to his world in the most extraordinary way possible.
It was not a prophecy, not a suggestion, but an undeniable truth. A boy born of both night and magic would rid the world of an unseen darkness, hidden where no one could perceive it. He would forge a being no one could match, shatter what was previously known, and rewrite the world according to the power he held. His beloved would aid him—or perhaps betray him—and even Death herself would take notice.
Ananke raised her hands and summoned the Three Moirai. As they appeared, the sisters looked at each other. "My queen, why have you summoned us?" they asked in unison. Clotho's silver hair shimmered like spun starlight, Lachesis' brown hair radiated warmth and steadiness, and Atropos' pink-tinged hair gave her a youthful, almost mischievous appearance. Though their bodies were similar, the colors of their hair distinguished them, marking their eternal roles.
"You must bless this child," Ananke said, "before it is too late. We must ensure his future endeavors. He will be of service—not to us, but to the balance of the world itself."
The Moirai lent their essence to the cocoon, weaving threads of fate into its fabric. The mothers of the child wondered silently what they had done. A single moment of decision, a spark of divine love and inevitability, had created a life that would be full of trials, pain, and suffering. Yet they did not regret it.
The cocoon shivered visibly, alive in its own way. It contorted under the magic, twisting, stretching, humming a note that resonated through the void. Outside, the world moved in ordinary fashion, oblivious to the cosmic drama unfolding. Every movement of the cocoon was deliberate, a slow orchestration of forces older than memory. Shadows wove through themselves, forming intricate patterns under the watchful gaze of the six goddesses. Hecate illuminated the void with the brilliance of her sigils, revealing designs that had never been seen before.
The mixture of innocence and potential within the child melted the hearts of all six women. The cocoon expanded gradually to accommodate the growing life inside, finally settling into a shape both fragile and unbreakable. Above it, Hecate's hands hovered, her gestures precise, guiding threads of power, shadow, magic, fate, and inevitability. Nyx's essence wrapped the cocoon from below, pressing softly, shaping the child's birth with cosmic care.
This cocoon was a living vessel of unimaginable power. Suspended in a moment outside time, the universe whispered a single truth: a god had been born, and though he would make mistakes, he would leave an indelible mark upon the world.
When the child finally emerged, signals of his existence rippled across the cosmos. Eternal night deepened, fate shifted, and threads of reality twisted as if announcing the arrival of something unprecedented. The Moirai nodded to Hecate, unspoken understanding passing between them. "Do not speak of this to any of the gods," Hecate instructed. They agreed silently, recognizing the depth of a mother's love and the weight of what had just been born.