Introduction: The Stroke of Midnight

"Look, look!" the little girl squealed to no one in particular, pointing at the stars. She found the only time she was happy was after the sun had set, when the night came. It was her friend and no one bothered her or shouted at her. Alone was the only way she worked. But solitude can be a curse far greater than any other, turning a loving heart cold and numb.

The Empress of the Night opened her deep blue eyes, two bottomless oceans at night with a few silver specks of light. She curled her long elegant fingers around the armrests of her ornately tinkered black and midnight blue iron throne, supported by gold cushions held in place by the throne's spiraling ornaments, depicting the changes that took place from day into night.She blinked a couple of times, expecting something to have changed, but of course it hadn't. Nothing ever did change in this world, in her world. The Night was always what it was, nothing more, nothing less. Dark, sullen, beautiful, full of hopes and dreams waiting for the Day, which never came. Not since the Empress had taken the throne. It was her fault, she knew that all too well. She should never have let herself get tricked like that and now her sorrows had been bludgeoning her into the ground for the past 200 years. The Empress ran a hand through her long, thick black curls, until it reached the ornate headdress she wore as a right to her throne, a right she did not desire in the slightest. The midnight blue leather band was adorned with black engravings of a feral beast, her own personal beast, with long fangs and jewels for eyes, jewels the exact same color as her eyes.

She stood up and stretched, once again taking in her spacious throne room. The room itself was never lit, so in the evenings and at night it appeared dull and gray, more like a cavern. The only light in the room was that, that would come from the outside, from the stars and the moon, through large ornate windows that reached from the polished wooden floor to the arched ceiling, covered in stained windowpanes. She found herself at those same stained-glass windows increasingly often, staring and praying to the Goddess Hylia, desperately hoping her voice could reach her. The Empress chanced a glance at the wall, at the antique clock, shinning with an eerie light. It read five minutes until midnight, until the full weight of her curse settled upon her once more. The clock was an instrumental piece in her damnation, but was nonetheless a gift from him. Him, who understood her, loved her and then betrayed her. Even thinking about him was bittersweet.

With feline stealth and grace born of years of practice, she swung her body out the window and onto the wooden ledge. She balanced, swaying a little and then transferred her weight onto the banister that led to the thatched roof. With a final heave she landed, side-first on the roof and swung her legs over the edge, looking at the sky. The sun had set before she started her climb, so she sat gazing at the starry sky, the light breeze playing with some wispy clouds. It felt invigorating and equally thrilling to be alone and far away from the conundrum of her daily life. She had lost track of how long she had been doing this, seeking refuge high above the city while it slept, away from her mother's neglect and her father's abuse. The only thing she knew was that it had started when she was but a child and now she was nearly a woman, yet she still sat at the same spot every night. She sighed contentedly and lay on her back.

"Hello there." called an unknown voice from the shadows.

She jumped upright and turned to face the owner of the voice. "Who's there?" she asked, her voice shaking. "Show yourself!"

Heavy footsteps shuffled closer. "I'm sorry to have frightened you." The figure slowly emerged from the reclusiveness of the shadow, arms raised as in surrender. "I mean you no harm."

To her surprise, the moonlight revealed a handsome young man, some years older than her, with glistening silver hair tossed around by the breeze and slightly slated eyes the color of mercury. He gave her a slightly anxious smile as she sat back down. "Who are you?" she asked as he plopped down next to her. He smelled faintly of lavender. "Have you been watching me?"

He twisted to look at her, his eyes like spiraling vortexes and she spotted the purple blossom in the breast pocket of his brown doublet. She looked him up and down, taking in his muddy, worn black calf-skin boots, black hose, white tunic and the piercings in his ears; his left only had one, his right earlobe, in contrast, being riddled with holes. He smiled at her, a warm smile that made her insides melt. "My name is Yakuth." he finally spoke. "I've been watching you for some time now." Upon seeing her raised eyebrows he hastily added. "I mean, it's been so long since I've seen anyone as interested in the night as I am. It's so peaceful, isn't it? Without all the ruckus of the day. What's your name?"

She cocked her head to the side, caught off guard by how calm and quaint he was. "My name is Aleth. Nice to meet you, Yakuth. That's a really unconventional name, isn't it?"

"It's a celestial name." he replied, quite simply and, out of nowhere, realization dawned on her like a ton of bricks.

That was how she met the Star, Yakuth, son of the Moon and Sun, for the first time.

The Empress sighed. She had nearly forgotten the sound of her true name. Aleth. At a leisurely pace she strolled towards her balcony and leaned on the railings, watching the stars. She had once loved and cherished them, but now had grown weary of them. The sky was dark, an indication on that the sun had set in the world of the Light, for the sun never showed his face in the Night. Instead the stars and moon were eternally plastered to the heavens, though the sun's effects were still present, for when there came day in the world of the Light, the sky in her world turned the palest and most delicate blue. She was grateful for at least this much, though she longed to feel the sun's rays on her face once again. The Empress, Aleth, groaned at the unpleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach. She gripped the railing tighter and climbed onto it, standing with her feet shoulder-width apart. She glanced over her empire once again, over the dilapidated hamlets, dismal fields, glittering waters, the austere and foreboding towers of her palace and closed her eyes. The clock in the throne room struck midnight, emitting a low, husky lullaby. The Empress opened her eyes an propelled herself off the railing, hurtling towards the ground, the wind whistling in her ears.