Nyx flung her arms around Mother Earth. “Thank you!”
Mother Earth returned her embrace. “Dearest child, you have brought me much joy this night. Will you meet me again? Here, in this grove, three nights hence when the moon is full?”
“It would be my pleasure.” Nyx stood and inclined her head regally to Mother Earth before, grinning, she bent and scooped the wildcat into her arms. In an explosion of glittering silver stars, she and the beast disappeared.
While she watched the trail of stars fade, Mother Earth rested against the skin of a hawthorn tree, thinking … thinking … thinking …
For three days and three nights Mother Earth did not move.
On the third day the grove was so infused with the magick of her presence it drew such bountiful sunlight that the brush covering the little island began to bloom purple with joy.
Mother Earth smiled upon the sun, and the sun quickened in response.
As night fell on the third day, the moon, drawn to the grove by the magick of her presence, beamed so fully on the little island that the rugged clumps of rock that dotted the landscape changed color permanently, reflecting the white of moonlight, infused with the magick of night.
Mother Earth smiled upon the moon, and the moon quickened in response.
With a small sound of satisfaction, Mother Earth knew what she must do for this last, this only, this most special Goddess, Nyx.
2.
IT IS BECAUSE YOU DO NOT ASK THAT I WISH TO REWARD YOU, GREAT GODDESS …
Nyx dressed carefully for her visit with Mother Earth, directing the little Fey skeeaed, the most godlike of the creatures created from the wisps of Divine Energy that circled restlessly in the atmosphere of the Otherworld, to take special care with the draping of her silver gown.
“Thank you for choosing such a perfect color, L’ota!” she told the skeeaed as its sinuous body circled the Goddess, whispering “Beautiful moon color” in its liquid voice.
When a dryad began to weave ivy through her long, dark hair, Nyx exclaimed in pleasure, “Oh! That is a lovely touch! Mother Earth will so appreciate it.”
Only the skeeaeds had the ability to speak, but the little dryad turned deep lavender and trilled in pleasure at the Goddess’s praise.
Then the Goddess turned her head this way and that, examining her reflection in her onyx-framed mirror.
“But the ivy is hidden in the darkness of my hair. I want Mother Earth to see it—to know that I have adorned myself in respect for her!” With a wave of her hand, Nyx changed her visage, taking on blond hair so silver that the green of the ivy seemed luminous.
“Perfect!” Nyx smiled in delight.
Another Fey, a coblyn who mined jewels from the Otherworld caves, appeared. Bowing respectfully, he held forth a necklace fashioned from a waterfall of glittering quartz crystals.
“Your gift touches my heart,” Nyx said, holding up the thick length of her hair so that the Fey could place the necklace on her. “I hope it touches Mother Earth’s heart as well.” Nyx caressed the crystals, thinking how desperately she wished for companionship. She adored the Fey, but they were more spirit and element than flesh. Nyx did long for true companionship … the touch of another immortal.
Nyx felt the sadness that radiated from the Fey in response to her lonely thoughts and was instantly sorry she’d given in to melancholy. She was the last of the immortals and she knew the Fey doted on her from more than just the affection shared between them. Like Mother Earth, they feared she would follow the others—would forsake her vow and leave this realm.
“Never.” Nyx’s voice was soft, but she spoke with finality, caressing a concerned skeeaed much as she stroked the wildcat, who now followed her everywhere. “You have nothing to fear,” she reassured L’ota and the gathering Fey. “I will never break that vow or any vow I ever make—not throughout all of eternity. Now, please help settle in place the headdress of moonlight and stars that was my gift from Mother Earth, and worry no more!”
The Fey danced around her, coloring the air with happiness as they rejoiced in their Goddess’s fidelity.
In the corner of the Goddess’s chamber, within the deepest of the shadows, something dark quivered. As if it cringed away from the contagious happiness of the Fey, it slid, unseen, from the room.
* * *
Mother Earth was waiting for Nyx. She had already taken form and was standing before the grove, breathing deeply of the fragrant evening primrose from which she had fashioned her hair. She stroked the smooth, curvaceous skin she had fashioned for her body from the purest of clays. She called Air to her, directing it to lift the diaphanous gown adoring silkworms had created for her. She knew she looked especially alluring. The sun had beamed down on her grove from dawn to dusk, and now, enrapt, the moon watched.
Mother Earth was pleased.
The Goddess manifested when the moon, full and attentive, was high in the clear night’s sky.
“Nyx! You delight me! You’ve chosen my ivy for your hair. It complements the headdress as flowers complement a meadow.”