None Loved Them More

The hidden ones, the huldufolk, were here before the sun and moon, when the world knew only endless night beneath the stars. They loved the slow and graceful arch that danced in spirals above their heads, and lit fires not for light or warmth, but in worship. 

None loved them more than Erebus, who would lie upon the ground, entranced, one hand held up as though to catch and claim the light. Other times he gathered moss to make greater and greater fires, or dug for metals which burned yet brighter still.

The other huldar laughed at him, and ran into the meadows to dance beneath the wheel of heaven. And in Erebus another fire grew, one that burned more darkly.

Deeper and deeper he dug into the world, until he reached its secret heart, and there found a fire great enough to fill even his desire. He might have been content, then, were it not for the memory of the laughter.

Erebus broke apart the light, though it burned and blackened him, carried its ember back and threw it into the sky. There it burned so beautiful, so bright. 

It blotted out the stars.