Khione had never feared the dark.
Rather, she reveled in it. After all, the poles were the coldest places on Earth and they never saw the sun for half the year. Winter was a time of darkness, and she was the goddess of snow.
She was born for the dark. Maybe if she was the goddess of sand or something, she would be perfectly nice and hate the dark like all good little gods.
But now, as she paced her father's throne room and yelled at the servants to just go away, a bit of fear crept into her brain. Tartarus was dark. Maybe when she'd been judged by the Olympian court, they'd throw her into that pit, never to return. She'd betrayed them, after all. The darkness had swept her away. She was evil. Now that she'd lost, the doubts came. she'd been so confident Gaea would win and she would be powerful.
The allure of darkness was the power that came with it. She had so much resentment, and she had so much potential. Khione paced more and shut all thoughts from her brain as the messenger called, "It's time."
