Each step of yours extinguishes the light of a candle by your side. Your presence alone is enough to doom the glorious corridors to impenetrable darkness. Only the silver moon shines through the wide French windows, and only because you order it to, just as you let everything else dissolve into the black void behind you.

Nobody dares to stop you. No human, not even the royal guards, would be that crazy to say no to you. Or even look you in the eye because they all fear what they would see there. Oh, pitiful weak humans! They know so little about how the universe works. Yet, their awestruck glances follow you everywhere, adoring the footprints you leave behind, hanging on your every word and envy your beauty and indescribable power. But they don’t build you altars like they do for deities of harvest, prosperity and wisdom. They know you too well: you aren’t swayed by gifts as you go on your own way. You, an eternal creature of nature, do what you want to do and don’t care about others’ opinion. That’s what makes you dangerous, even in the eye of the Olympian gods.

The guards on both side of a huge, fancy door bow into your direction, eyes casting downwards, body trembling in fear. They know that you could end their insignificant lives with a snap of your fingers, wipe them out of history like dust. There’s nothing to stop you and they are at your mercy, just like their king behind the gilded doors. Their vulnerability makes you smirk and the lovely curve adorning your features widens at their submission when they fling the door open for you.

That’s right, humans, treat me like a queen.

The sudden golden light of the shadowy room is blinding, but you recover quickly and smile down at the figure huddling up in the dim corner.

“Hello Changkyun,” you greet him keenly and the boy’s shoulders shake at your mellifluous voice.

“Stay away from me!” he shouts both in despair and anger, stumbling to his feet. He’s the epitome of madness when he steps into the fireplace’s blazing light. Hair messy and torn, eyes with black circles, skin pale and worn but still so handsome. A young king on verge of losing his sane mind.

You coo at his childish protest and step closer, so close that you’re standing in front of him, breathing the same air. Yet, he doesn’t budge, only turns his head away, hanging it down in defeat. He’s also aware that throwing a fit wouldn’t help him and you partly like him for his quick wits. You touch his cheek gently with one hand, admiring the softness and flaws of it. Oh, so lovably human!

“You asked for unbelievable richness. Don’t you like my gift?” you blink at him innocently, long lashes fluttering despite knowing very well that you never give anything that you don’t benefit from. He’s just another naive, sulky kid who doesn’t like what he got in the end.

“It’s a curse,” he huskily replies, trembling at you touch.

It’s the first skin-to-skin, almost human contact in weeks he had without death following him. Tears prickle his eyes at the memory of those who he accidentally touched and turned into a golden statue. Because everything, living or not, he got his hands on turned into the finest metal, a massive piece of glimmering gold ever since he met you.

At first, the young king beamed at the richness he could have and how easily he could make his poor, indebted kingdom shine again. It was the reason behind his deal with you after all. But soon, he realized that he couldn’t sleep on a bed made of hard metal properly, he could only eat with golden cutlery and couldn’t have anyone near him in case they would get hurt, to put it nicely. His life became a havoc surrounded by tons of shining gold.

“Well-well, aren’t you ungrateful?” you click your tongue, fingers softly tapping at his chin, motioning him to look at you. When he does, you can see his wild, grief-filled eyes, the matt colour of loss. What happened to that lively boy eager to take the throne and write his name into history as one of the greatest kings? Did the responsibility change him? Or did youbreak him?

“Take it back,” he’s begging now, so pathetic. You shake your head relentlessly. You are a cruel deity, or so they say. They are not wrong, though.

“So bossy. Is it the way you should talk to your goddess while asking for something?”

Changkyun looks up at you like one would look at the moon on the darkest nights. As if you would be a guiding force, his only hope.

“Please… please, I don’t want it anymore,” he pleads with eyes wide as oceans, beautiful as the night sky itself. You swoon over them and their resemblance to yourself in their deepest pits. Perhaps you are getting soft for him and the mysteries of his soul. Or do they call it fondness? That stupid urge to keep him around even if centuries pass like minutes for you?

“What can you give me in exchange?” you croak an eyebrow curiously, taking his request into consideration. To what extent he would be willing to go, you wonder. Would he sacrifice his crown, his beloved people or even himself? How important it is to him to live freely, without the weight of this doomed ability?

“Anything,” he replies without hesitation as if he had nothing more to lose or he couldn’t imagine worse to come. A king, one of many, has just offered you his life; his body, heart and soul for you to play with and command to as you wish.

“Oh, be careful with what you promise!” you warn him a little too late with a muffled giggle and a sly smile. He’s already yours. But why not test it if you can?

You take a step back, looking around carefully in the old treasury, now full of gold and glitter. You still remember the first time you came here, into an empty room only with a handful of money. Changkyun must remember, too, the day he made a deal with somebody worse than Hades himself. You.

“I’ll lift your curse on two conditions,” you say, slowly on purpose, just to , to see if he breaks but the boy patiently waits for you to finish. What a noble gesture! “You see all this? The things you got from me?” you pat the golden objects within reach, never taking your eyes off of him as you strike the coup de grâce. “You’ll lose them, and you will be the one to destroy them all. Every single one.”

The look the king takes around the room is almost nostalgic, like saying goodbye but being okay with it. He seems utterly calm, still and stoic like a marble statue.

“You want me to burn this place down?” he asks in a resigned tone, a sigh escaping his throat.

“Yes, basically,” you shrug nonchalantly and step back close, gently brushing a strand of his hair out of his forehead. You watch as his eyes turn into the colour of dark nights lacking stars and the moon. You see home in the shade of his orbs and you bet you could build up Tartaros in the depths of his soul. “You are too pretty to be a mere human. I bet Aphrodite adores you.”

Oh she has to! The bow of his lips, the curve of his eyes and the fall of his fringe alone is so perfect that even the children of the goddess of love and beauty would be envious and you wouldn’t blame them. No wonder why he caught your attention. Why you looked down on this peculiar human on your lonely nights. Why you offered him a deal in the first place. You want him for yourself and you actually know a way.

“When you die, I want you to tell the ferryman that your soul is mine,” you tell him firmly your end of the deal but as it seems, your condition doesn’t take him by surprise.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” you raise a brow at his confidence. Most people fear their afterlives and they would rather not even talk about it. They tend to think the rest of their precious soul is the most important thing in the world. But you, having eternity in the palm of your hands, know better: there is no glory at the end of the road, only misery. Suffering for something they can never have. Peace.

“Then let’s seal the deal. I’m sure you know by now how it works.”

Of course, he does. How can he forget the kiss that sealed his fate? You are smiling when you lean closer and brush your mouth against the king’s. His chapped lips somehow taste like gold yet all the same he tasted like last time: a mix of youth, hope and honey. A little bit of exasperation, too.

You gifted him with unfortunate wealth and he gives his soul willingly in return. That’s all you ever wanted and it makes you smile contentedly.

You leave the palace before morning comes but it seems like walking in daylight the way it burns behind you. You look fondly at the golden flames eating up the place and suddenly you yearn for something you can’t have.

Because you and the night are one and the same. You never leave its side, nor it leaves yours and you do the most you can with things touched by the Sun (destroy them) and the fire in humans’ souls (put it out). You bring the season of cold darkness yet you long for warmth. Ambitious kings and boys with sad eyes just happen to be your weakness.

You can chain them to yourself as you wish but they will never love you. Who would choose the night over day after all? Who would love you, the daughter of Chaos, a soul full of black holes and hidden golden stars?

Maybe he does, oh he does! He just doesn’t know yet.

You turn away from the golden fire but you can still feel it burn. Your heart. You don’t dream but if you could, you would dream about this: the daylight in his heart and the nightfall in his eyes. Him. Your favourite mortal who is loved by the night oh so much.