Artemis walks along the dusty road, waiting for her brother to meet her. The sun has nearly disappeared, so he won’t be long. She smiles to herself, thinking how annoying it would be to have to drive the moon across the sky every night. The moon is predictable, keeping a constant pattern no matter what. The sun however, needs constant guidance, meaning her twin must spend the long day guiding the fiery ball across the sky, lest it should burn the Earth once more. She frowns slightly, her silvery eyes betraying rare confusion, as she remembers how the moon has behaved lately. It has been more and more unpredictable, listening to her directions less and less.

Finally, the sun vanishes from the sky. A streak of golden light follows her up the road, materialising into a young man. He pushes his hair, just as golden, out of his warm, brown eyes, and walks beside her. 

“Greetings, sister. We have not spoken for many moons. Why did you call me here?” he says, his words serious, but his voice full of warm fondness for his twin.

“Brother Apollo, the time has come to speak to father once again. Surely you have noticed that the moon is becoming inconstant. It is not listening to me anymore.”

“Are you certain? Father does not like to be bothered, especially for things he sees as trivial.”

“The path of the moon is not a trivial matter, dear brother,” Artemis replies crossly. “The people too are becoming restless.”

“Is there someone else we could ask?” Apollo says. “Perhaps Hephaestus, the forger, could build something to keep the moon on its path.”

“Would you allow your precious sun to be chained up and put on a track? I think not. Speak to your Oracle, perhaps she can help us.”

Apollo frowns, running his hands nervously through his golden hair. “I will consult the Oracle,” he promised. “Farewell, sister.”

The twins embrace, the golden boy and the silver girl contrasting so greatly in the dusk. They step back, bid each other farewell once more, and set off down the dusty road in opposite directions. Artemis’ shimmering silver gown slides out of focus for a moment, then she transforms into a glowing ball of light that streaks off into the dusky sky.

Apollo walks quickly down the road towards Delphi. Arriving there a short time later, he notices that the moon has nearly completed its voyage across the sky. He has little time to consult the Oracle. Hidden away behind silken sheets, the oracle sits cross legged in an alcove behind the theatre.

“Greetings, Apollo,” says the small girl, only twelve years old. She pushes her hazelnut hair behind her shoulders and smiles at him. Suddenly the smile fades from her face, her voice becomes deep and raspy, and green light emanates from her once brown eyes.

“The solution to your problem comes in the form of a child. She will be born tomorrow night, her father a human, and her mother a water nymph. Her father is Eros, the god of passionate love. Her mother will die in childbirth. The other nymphs will care for her. She shall be called Korilimnis, the daughter of the lake. We await the girl.”

The girl collapses, the light leaving her eyes. Her attendants rush to make her comfortable, while Apollo grimaces, resigned to the fate of telling his father, Zeus, of the new prophecy.

The years pass by, and the moon becomes more and more discordant. The people, used to centring their lives around the course of the moon, become restless. They are losing their faith in the gods. Korilimnis is only sixteen, but she is needed more than ever.  

The sound from the forest chills the hearts of all who hear it, as though their very soul has been doused in ice water. The nymphs know the fate of Korilimnis, but they cannot speak of it. A girl dances by the lake, unfazed by the haunted singing. Her pale, blue skin glows, even in the darkness of the forest, and her indigo hair ripples through the crisp, autumn air. The days pass, and winter draws closer. Korilimnis dances by the lake every day. Then it is winter.

“My dear brothers and sisters, tonight I must leave you,” she says to her extended family, her voice calm, but her eyes shining with tears.

“We know,” replies a nymph sadly, standing up to speak. “We have always known, although we hoped we were wrong.”

The nymphs embrace her, all unhappy, but none showing it. The nymphs wave goodbye as Korilimnis retreats to her corner of the woods, and begins to pray.

“Father Eros,” she begins, her soft, musical voice wrought with anguish. “I thank you for bringing me into this world. I have enjoyed my time here, living with the nymphs. I am glad that you didn’t tell me what I should…what I must do. Although now that I understand, I feel as though I always have. Farewell, father, and grant me safe passage to the underworld.”

Korilimnis sighs, allowing a solitary tear to trickle down her soft cheek, before sucking in a breath and steeling herself. The light is fading fast; she must go. With a heavy heart, she leaves the forest for the first, and last time.

The gaping chasm stretches along the furthest borders of the forest. The nymphs have been unable to leave their home, and the humans unable to visit. Deep crimson smoke billows from it’s depths, with a hint of silver hidden amongst the gloom. Korilimnes sighs in relief. The moon’s spirit is trapped down there. This is no fool’s errand. The moon must be released.

The Erinyes watch from the shadows as the elvish girl steps towards the chasm. They malevolent sisters murmur to themselves, deciding whether or not she will make the sacrifice. They wait with bated breath as she glides forward, opening her arms and gazing into the heavens. Korilimnis whispers a prayer to her father, and takes the penultimate step. Lowering her hands, she breaths in, then out. With closed eyes, she steps into the rift.