The gods were eternal in the eyes of mortals, but in truth, they were far from immortal. They lived long, yes—long enough to witness the rise and fall of kingdoms, to watch generations of mortals bloom and wither like flowers in the passing seasons—but they, too, could bleed. They, too, could suffer. And they, too, could die.
Ereus, the God of Darkness, once stood among the great gods of the celestial realm. He was known for his quiet strength, for the vastness of the abyss he commanded, and for his unwavering devotion to Miuna, the Goddess of Light. It was a love that seemed unshakable, one that had been written in the stars since the heavens were first forged. The balance between light and dark was absolute, and so it seemed only natural that they would rule together, eternally intertwined.
But love was not immune to betrayal.
Miuna's heart did not belong to Ereus, though she had accepted his proposal in the past. Instead, her affections had been stolen by another—Xerion, the Sun God, radiant and golden, the very embodiment of warmth. Their affair was kept secret for a time, but no deception could remain hidden forever in the celestial realm. When their betrayal was revealed, Ereus did not rage or curse the heavens. He simply walked away.
He disappeared into his domain, retreating to the palace that stood alone in the endless expanse of the Sea of Stars. There, he drowned himself in solitude, his once-proud figure now a shadow of the god he had been. His heart, so deeply wounded, seemed to beat only out of duty rather than desire. No one dared to approach him.
No one, except Elisra.
She was nothing more than a palace maid, a quiet, unremarkable woman who had served him faithfully since time immemorial. She did not expect anything from him. She did not try to heal him. She was simply there, tending to his needs as she always had. But on the night of Miuna and Xerion's wedding, when the celestial realm erupted in celebration, Ereus drowned himself in grief. And in his drunken haze, he mistook Elisra's presence for the one he had lost.
He held her. She did not resist.
By morning, the weight of his mistake settled upon him. Ereus did not love Elisra. He never could. But when she became pregnant, he did not abandon her either. He acknowledged the child as his own, though he never spoke of love or family. To him, she was merely a consequence of his sorrow, a reminder of the night his heart had shattered beyond repair.
Yet, before the child could be born, Ereus passed away in his sleep. Whether it was grief, the weight of his own power, or something beyond mortal comprehension, none could say. All that remained was Elisra, heartbroken and alone, clutching her swollen belly as she stood before the Sea of Stars, calling out for a god who would never return.
And so, Krydia was born.
A child of darkness. A child of mistakes.
Elisra, weakened by heartbreak, did not last long. She raised Krydia as best she could, but she was never a strong woman. When Krydia was still young, Elisra faded away like a whisper on the wind, leaving her daughter to fend for herself in the lonely palace Ereus had left behind. With no family, no guidance, and no love, Krydia grew up in solitude, surrounded only by the endless night and the cold, distant stars.
Yet, she survived. She thrived. She became something more than the forgotten daughter of a forsaken god.
She became darkness itself.
The celestial realm had long since forgotten Ereus and his child, but Krydia never forgot them. She never forgot the way the gods had cast her father aside, the way Miuna's betrayal had led to the empty home she had been forced to endure. And when the gods finally remembered her existence, it was not out of kindness, but obligation.
"The Fire Festival is approaching," the envoy had said. "All gods must return to the Celestial Palace to partake in the celebration."
And so they sent Varmis.
Varmis, daughter of Miuna and Xerion. The child of the very gods who had caused her father's suffering.
The moment Krydia laid eyes on Varmis, she saw Miuna's face. She saw the woman who had once held her father's love in the palm of her hands, only to toss it aside like a passing fancy. The resemblance was uncanny—the same golden hair, the same ethereal grace, the same sickeningly radiant aura.
Varmis had done nothing to her. She was not the one who had betrayed Ereus. She was not the one who had doomed Krydia to a life of loneliness. And yet, when Krydia looked at her, all she could see was the mother who had never spared her father a second thought.
The Fire Festival. A grand celebration where gods and mortals alike would bask in the brilliance of the heavens.
Krydia never had a place there. She never would.
And so, she acted.
Standing at the edge of the Sea of Stars, she placed a hand on Varmis's shoulder, as if in greeting. Then, without hesitation, she pushed.
Varmis's eyes widened in shock as she stumbled back, her body tipping over the edge. There was no time to react. No time to catch herself. She plunged into the sea, swallowed by the vast darkness Ereus had once commanded.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, a roar of divine fury erupted from the heavens.
The gods descended upon Krydia in an instant. Hands seized her arms, voices raised in rage, condemning her for what she had done. There was no trial. No chance for explanation. The daughter of Ereus had committed an unforgivable sin, and for that, she would pay the price.
She was cast out.
Stripped of her divinity, stripped of her power, she was hurled from the celestial realm, sent plummeting into the mortal world below.
The last thing she saw before the darkness consumed her was the light of the heavens fading from view.
And then, there was nothing.