Echoes of Olympus: Children of the Night

In depths where starlight fades to none, Nyx bore children, one by one. From silence born, from shadows deep, Each a secret night would keep.

First came Moros, of fate’s design, He guides unseen where paths entwine. In whispers low, his secrets lie, Through woven threads where all must die.

Then The Keres rose, in blood’s embrace, To haunt the fields where warriors race. With eyes that gleam, they watch the slain, Silent guests to mortal pain.

Thanatos, with a gentle grace, Passes unseen in life’s embrace. In shadows soft, his fingers close, A guide to realms where silence grows.

Hypnos weaves the dreams we chase, Where visions drift and find their place. In slumber’s hold, his magic flows, To worlds unknown where mind yet goes.

Charon ferries lost souls below, Where Styx’s darkened waters flow. To the Underworld, a realm so deep, Where silent shadows drift and sleep.

Momus, sharp with jest and sneer, Mocks the flaws that mortals fear. In every jest, a bitter truth, Laid bare in mirth, untouched by youth.

Oizys breathes a sorrowed sigh, Her whispers drift and never die. In weighted hands, despair she sows, A grief that roots, and softly grows.

Nemesis stands with balance pure, Where wrongs are righted and dues ensured. Her gaze unyielding, cold and just, Retribution bound in trust.

Apate cloaks in veils of grace, Her lies disguised, without a trace. Illusions spun in webs unseen, Where truth is lost and shadows glean.

Philotes weaves her bonds of peace, Where love and friendship find release. In gentle threads, her warmth alights, Binding hearts in silvered night.

Geras treads with timeless weight, Marking all in slow, sure gait. With quiet hands, he carves the line, Where youth fades and years entwine.

Eris, with discord’s seed in hand, Spreads chaos wide across the land. In murmurs fierce, she stirs the night, A tempest born of hidden spite.

The Oneiroi rise from Hypnos’ shade, Morpheus, Phobetor—the dreamer’s trade. Phantasos paints illusions bright, In sleep’s embrace, they drift in flight.

And Hesperides, final keep, In gardens where the golden sleep. Bound to guard the fruit of light, Treasures born in endless night.

In silent watch, Nyx held her kin, Each a force both bound and thin. Darkness breathed, and shadows cast, They are the Children of The Night—the first, the last.