Guardians of Nyx
The world starts to settle
the noises die down
lights flicker and dim
and she has unfailingly arrived.
Nothing blocks her way
for she is power and danger combined.
Even the Sun himself must bow down to her.
He makes a final stand,
splashing the most vivid paints he can summon onto the sky—
she hates colour.
But it is brief
and she forces him down.
And then the earth is plunged into darkness.
She unleashes her messengers, her guardians, her warriors, her people.
They bound, leap, and fly into this world
claiming it as their own.
No animal of the sun dares venture into her realm now.
The stars are gone
Blotted out by the heralds.
Her messengers of the air,
they gather in millions.
They are vampire bats—dark-furred and hungry
for the blood of unaware animals.
The sky will be scarlet soon.
A feast is awaiting them.
Rivers of crimson liquid
flow from sleeping cattle and horses.
Satisfied, the bats retreat
back into her lair.
They are done for the night.
Eerie howls rip through forests of fog.
A shadow glides under the full moon;
A whisper of a ghost,
melting into the darkness
as if they were never there.
They are the guardians,
protectors of the night.
Weaving through the shadows with ease
And loping along with boundless stamina
Silent and deafening.
A flash of fangs
and glinting silver fur
announce their arrival—
the wolf pack is here.
Then, a menacing presence arrives
the air is thick.
Stocky yet light
with nary a sound
they are the lords of the dark.
pale yellow like the moon.
They roam the landscape
watching and waiting.
Acute ears and striking eyes
the tigers hunt in the dark.
Shadows slice into their orange fur
imprinting permanent stripes.
And then they, too, fade into the gloom.
The night is not silent for long
as hundreds of brown bodies pour out.
Dashing in every direction
the scourges of the land take over.
What they lack in size
they make up in ferocity.
A thin beam of moonlight
reflects in their beady eyes.
Tails stretched behind them
the nose leads the way
as the rats scamper off to ravage a town or two.
A harsh screech splits the air.
The rulers of the sky announce their arrival
soaring, swooping, snatching unwary mice
Eyes, yellow as the moon, pierce into the darkness.
Owls—lifting into the sky silent as a ghost
the moonlight glints off their sharp talons.
Nothing withstands the sharp slashes
carving an arc that conceals the stars.
The chicks will have meat tonight.
Before the night is over,
she will send out one more.
These are the masters of the shadows.
Neither sound nor trace
will reveal their deadly path.
A loud, drawn-out hiss
precedes fangs long and poisonous.
The last sight to the victim
before these slithering shadows swallow them whole.
Their forked tongues dart into the air
before the snakes glide back into the shadows.
Fear the guardians of the night
for this is the realm of Nyx herself.
Nyx is the Greek goddess of the night. She is a primeval goddess, born from Chaos. Her interactions with the sun in this poem do not reflect Greek mythology. I took her name before extensively researching her, so this is more like "my Nyx" rather than the "ancient Greek Nyx".