Nyx’s Revelation

Selene hesitated, yet ultimately heeded Tyche's silent counsel and refrained from fusing the lunar dominions. The goddess had already demonstrated on multiple occasions her prophetic vision, blessed by fate itself—such an enigmatic directive must surely carry reasons too delicate for words.

Hypnos, ever courteous, refrained from interrupting the exchange between the goddesses, though his restless fingers betrayed his inner impatience.

Noticing this, Selene smoothly redirected the conversation toward him. "And what role shall Lord Hypnos play in this endeavor?"

With serene composure, Tyche replied, "Merely to remain here. Should his siblings also choose to dwell within this realm, so much the better."

It was not long before the children of Nyx emerged from the veils of slumber and shadow. Among them, it was not the solemn figure of Thanatos, Hypnos's twin, that captured Tyche's attention—but Eris, the winged goddess of strife. She who once cast the golden apple into the halls of Troy bore a power akin to the Furies, yet carried herself with the same mirthful detachment as Nyx herself, drawing Tyche's gaze like flame in darkness.

The weak-ranked deity of discord and contention observed the rising Sky Goddess with keen interest, peering curiously from behind the figures of Dysnomia and Oizys until gently reprimanded by the soft voice of the Graces.

Save for Aether and Hemera, most of these deities were born solely of Nyx's will. It was Thanatos and Hypnos who spoke on behalf of their kin, the only two bearing intermediate divine ranks. Exchanging a glance, Hypnos abandoned his usual drowsy demeanor, his voice steady with newfound resolve. "Lady Tyche, we wish to remain here. Name your terms."

Tyche smiled gently, her tone soothing. "Have I not already told you, Lord Hypnos? Simply dwell here, and all shall be well."

Skepticism flickered across Hypnos's face as he prepared to press further—when a presence both ancient and immense rippled through the void.

The gathered deities immediately bowed in reverence as a veiled goddess draped in flowing black hair stepped forth, her eyes dark as polished obsidian. From the very fabric of night itself came Nyx—the primordial bearer of stillness, first sovereign of shadows.

Emotion stirred more deeply within Nyx than within the abyss. With a voice like a midnight lullaby, she bade the assembly rise. Tyche wasted no time; with a gesture, she summoned a sturdy obsidian seat from the river, offering it with deep respect to the primordial goddess.

Darkness descended, veiling the cavern in quietude, dimming even the pale glow of the moon. One by one, the gathered gods faded from sight—until only Tyche remained beneath the watchful gaze of the mighty primordial.

"Honored Lady of Night," Tyche inclined her head in deep reverence.

Nyx's gaze held a wistful haze, like smoke curling over still water, luminous with the shimmer of moonlit springs.

"Rise, Lady Tyche." Her voice, gentle and melodious, stood in stark contrast to Gaia's commanding authority. In that moment, Tyche understood where Hypnos had inherited his dream-laden eyes.

Ever vigilant, Tyche approached as guided. Nyx then spoke softly, "As recompense for granting my children refuge, I shall bestow upon you a gift of equal worth."

She extended a slender finger and touched Tyche's brow.

In that instant, Tyche's soul seemed to soar beyond her body, soaring past the heavens and beyond the world itself. She beheld the birth of all things—the formless embrace of Chaos giving rise to the primordial gods, the nascent stirrings of existence. Chaos drifted into slumber, while the laws of reality took shape amid the mingling powers of the firstborn.

Then came the birth of sky and sea from the earth's womb, followed by the twelve Titans cradled in the union of heaven and land. Through the transcendent eyes of a primordial, Tyche witnessed the unfolding of history—her own divine perception surging alongside the Dominion of Time, climbing swiftly to the peak of intermediate divinity.

And then—herself. Falling from above. She saw her own descent, a fragile soul adrift in a tiny vessel, borne through the entwined arms of Darkness and Night, plunging into the ocean's depths, where she was reborn as the daughter of Oceanus and Tethys.

Unfazed by the revelation—knowing full well that nothing could be hidden from the embodiment of Night—Tyche continued watching, her gaze fixed upon Mount Olympus. What she saw next made her eyes widen in shock. Staring at the entwined forms of the ruling god and goddess, she felt disbelief claw at her mind.

Nyx had vanished. The surrounding veil of night lifted with her departure. Before the final shreds of shadow dissolved, Tyche masked her astonishment.

Composing herself, she offered a flawless smile. "Lady Nyx has granted me a reward I cannot refuse. Welcome, honored guests."

With little interest left for the children of Night, she took Selene's hand and opened a portal back to the Isle of the Unseen.

This night, stars gleamed without the moon—a beauty distinct from the silver radiance of Selene's light.

Helios awaited, chariot poised. Selene reclaimed the reins from her brother and steered discreetly into the woods. Tyche leaned close to the sun god, whispering, "Tell Lady Thea I must speak with her on a matter of utmost urgency."

As the chariot vanished into the horizon, a shadow spread across Tyche's heart. The visions Nyx had shown her were too staggering—she had been led like a pawn from beginning to end.

Rarely seen with such a cold expression, Tyche strode silently toward her temple. For the first time, her attendants shrank away, sensing the storm behind her composed exterior.

Thea arrived cloaked in the dawnlight her daughter had opened, slipping unnoticed into the domain of the Sky Goddess.

Before Thea could speak, Tyche cut in sharply. "Lady Thea, answer my question truthfully!"

Frowning slightly, Thea nodded despite the boldness of the demand.

"When did Rhea give you that strand of golden hair?"

"She gave it to me when she brought treasures to aid in rebuilding my temple, after our battle drew the intervention of Themis."

Tyche's eyes narrowed. Instinctively, she clenched her skirts, whispering bitterly, "Even the goddess of fate had her destiny manipulated. What a failure you are! You mocked her, but she must have laughed behind your back."

Confusion clouded Thea's expression. "Who tampered with your fate?"

Tyche did not answer. When she lifted her gaze again, her usual poise had returned. "Unexpected indeed… the greatest deceiver among us was, of all beings, her."

Thea departed, burdened with unspoken thoughts, yet Tyche offered her no answers.

Through the waters linking to Mount Othrys, Tyche once more arrived at the halls of Kronos.

Upon his throne, Kronos sat expressionless, his gaze cold as it fell upon the goddess.

A sudden smile graced Tyche's lips. "Though I've said it before, these words feel far more fitting now."

"I wonder," she mused, "should I address you as Lord Kronos—or Queen Rhea?"

Silence reigned. After a long pause, Rhea emerged from behind the throne. Her eyes, veiled with unreadable intent, settled on Tyche as she murmured, "You have what you sought, have you not? Why then do you persist in meddling where you do not belong?"

Tyche's smile widened. "Lady Rhea, you are truly the most terrifying deity I have ever encountered. And that is saying much, considering I have stood face to face with the Abyss itself."

"I may not understand your motives for deceiving me so thoroughly, but I know they bode no good. To ensure I am never dragged into your schemes again, I believe it best to speak plainly with the one who truly holds the reins of fate. Don't you agree?"

Rhea returned the smile, sharp and knowing. "Then name your price. What will it take for you to step back?"

"No rush," Tyche replied smoothly. "I am quite curious to hear your reasoning first."

Rhea's gaze sharpened, searching for weakness behind Tyche's words.

They remained locked in silence—until, finally, Rhea yielded with a quiet sigh.

She moved to stand beside Kronos, gently tracing his cheek with her fingers, leaning into his embrace with a contented sigh.

"It is a simple tale, far less poetic than the silent devotion between you and Helios."

Tyche gave no reaction, merely watching with patient expectation.

"This begins with my father, the fallen primordial king, Ouranos."

"To him, we were nothing but accidental byproducts of his union with Gaia—an inconvenience, a stain upon his divinity. He despised us. Even when we groveled like servants, he trampled our dignity as though we were insects beneath his heel! Without him , I would have ended my life long before the chains of Tartarus could bind me!"

She clutched Kronos's hand tightly, gazing lovingly into his vacant eyes.

"Father accused us of stealing his power, so consumed by madness that he once threatened to cast us all into the Abyss! It was Kronos who shielded me. I will never forget how he stood before me, protecting me just as he does now."

Tyche averted her eyes, unsettled by the eerie devotion flickering across Rhea's face. She had already witnessed the truth of Ouranos's cruelty through Nyx's vision—this recollection held no sway over her.

"He endured Ouranos's lashes without flinching, enduring every strike rather than release me!" Rhea whispered, lost in memory. "From that moment, I knew he would be my husband."

"He took up the sickle from Gaia's hands like a hero and overthrew Ouranos. On that day, all the gods hailed him as King of Heaven. He held my hand as we ascended the sacred mountain, smiling as he promised to make me his Queen!"

Her voice wavered, then hardened. "But slowly, his love began to fade. At first, I believed it was fear of Ouranos's curse."

Her beautiful face contorted with anguish, tears streaming as she shrieked, "Yet he dared to abandon me!!!"

"I loved him beyond reason—I would have done anything for him, even died! But he wished to sever the bond we shared!"

Rhea's anguished cry filled the chamber. Tyche instinctively stepped back, ready to flee at a moment's notice.

"I forgave everything—everything —except this… this betrayal!"

"You're mad," Tyche stated flatly.

"I didn't care that he devoured our children. But for him to turn away from me, to doubt my love—that I could not bear!"

Rhea wept bitterly, her fingers digging violently into Kronos's eyes. Golden ichor streamed down his face as she frantically poured divine energy into healing him, tenderly kissing his restored eyes, oblivious to Tyche's retreat toward the exit.

Shuddering in revulsion, Tyche edged closer to the temple doors.

At last, Rhea calmed herself, nestling once more into her husband's chest, speaking softly, almost shyly. "I thought he no longer loved me. That agony nearly drove me mad."

"But then came the day I prepared everything. When I finally merged with his essence, I felt it—his love still burned within him. You cannot imagine how I rejoiced!"

Unable to contain herself, Tyche interjected, "So it was you who acted first."

"Yes." Rhea's voice was steady. "Tormented beyond endurance, I had no choice. Whether I succeeded or failed, I would become one with him—forever inseparable."

Regret flickered across her features as she pressed his hand against her heart, wrapping herself around him like ivy clinging to a tree.

"You've stopped?" Tyche asked, puzzled.

"No," Rhea corrected. "I want him to be mine forever."

She turned to Tyche, her expression serene. "But I also refused to let his soul depart. So I crossed time and brought back the past version of Kronos."

Realization dawned upon Tyche. "That's why you aged—you suffered the backlash of tampering with time!"

"And his escape from the curse—it was all part of your scheme too! How could you be so certain I would give that prophecy?"

Rhea smiled knowingly. "Oh, Tyche… you are far too kind-hearted. Among the Fates, only Astraea remains an Intermediate Power. For the sake of your friends, you would never refuse aid."

"Is it worth it?" Tyche asked gravely. "For one man's love, you abandoned your children, bore the wrath of time, deceived your sisters who cared for you—was it worth it?"

Without hesitation, Rhea answered, "Yes. Without Kronos, I would have perished long before Tartarus claimed me."

Tyche exhaled deeply, shaken by the depth of Rhea's obsession. Reason would find no purchase here.

She turned to leave—but Rhea called after her.

"Will you ask for nothing in return?"

Tyche paused at the doorway, glancing back at the desperate queen.

"Our bargain was sealed long ago," she said coolly. "Now, it is not I who demands something—it is Kronos who owes me a debt. And I believe I now understand what it is he possesses… yet does not know."