Page 52 of Styx

more about Styx’s powers,

that they were influenced

by her feelings – the dark eel

was born from her rage,

the red crab as we called it

was born from her annoyance –

we still didn’t know

where my abilities of creation

came from. I knew somehow

they were linked to

my prophetic dreams and how

I could pluck stars from the sky.

But knew neither how nor why.

We sat on the golden beach

watching Nyx paint the sky black,

her chariot infusing ink-dark smoke

into the blue of the day,

turning it into the night.

‘Have you tried making something

without waiting for a dream or a calling?’

Styx asked me this question

as the stars came out slowly,

blinking in our direction.

I shook my head. ‘No.

Even the glowworms

were born from the innermost

heart of a dying star.’

Styx was quiet a moment,

then picked up a piece of sea glass

at my feet. ‘How do you know,’