Nyx in the House of Night

by Dane, Jordan; Cast, Kristin; Mahoney, Karen; P. C. Cast

  In Greek mythology, the goddess Nyx is quite naturally allied with images of the night sky—especially those focused on the moon and stars. This is reflected in the House of Night series in a number of ways: for example, the sapphire-blue crescent moon that appears on each vampyre fledgling’s forehead to show that he or she has been Marked. In Hunted, after the battle is won (at least temporarily), we are left with the following scene: “The clouds had completely dissipated, leaving the sky clear to expose a brilliant crescent moon that shone so bright it burned away any lingering confusion and sadness.” Imagery of the moon—especially the crescent moon—is often used in the House of Night books and provides a powerful visual symbol. Readers are never allowed to forget who is ever-present throughout the dark and often deadly events of these books.

  Speaking of “dark” events, the concept of “darkness” in the House of Night series is a complicated one. The word itself can refer to literal darkness or the metaphorical kind—evil. And as Nyx tells Zoey way back in Marked: “Darkness does not always equate to evil, just as light does not always bring good.” Sister Mary Angela echoes this idea during the final battle in Hunted, when she senses the very real (metaphorical) darkness radiating from Neferet. The fallen High Priestess is quick to remind the nun: “Of course you sense darkness from me. My Goddess is Night personified!” To which Sister Mary Angela calmly replies, “No, I am acquainted with Nyx, and though she personifies Night, she doesn’t traffic with darkness.” Think, too, of the black and white bulls used in later House of Night books to represent the ultimate battle between Light and Darkness (Light is represented by the black bull, and Darkness by the white). In the House of Night series, things are not always what they seem.

  Darkness is present in the House of Night series in yet another way: Erebus, the Greek personification of Darkness. It is Erebus who is the significant “other” in the Goddess’ life—not, as I might originally have expected, Nyx’s daughter, Day. Though he has yet to appear in the series (despite Neferet’s bogus claims that Kalona is Erebus reborn), he casts a shadowy presence over the characters’ lives. Zoey first learns of Erebus during her introductory classes at the House of Night when Neferet teaches her students that “Nyx has a consort, the god Erebus, to whom she is devoted.” These words come back to haunt Zoey and her friends later on, when Neferet tries to convince the vampyres that Kalona—the fallen immortal—is really Erebus returned to the world.

  Erebus also makes an indirect appearance in the series through a group called the Sons of Erebus, whom me meet in the third book, Chosen. These are fierce vampyre warriors sworn to protect the House of Night and all within its walls. They dress entirely in black and are deeply devoted to Nyx, and through the character of Darius—who later becomes Aphrodite’s personal Warrior and protector—we learn just how loyal the Sons can be. When he meets Zoey, he says: “The Sons of Erebus will protect Nyx’s school with our last breath.” This is spoken as simple fact but becomes more of a prophecy later on, when some of the Sons of Erebus die trying to protect the House from Kalona and Neferet.

  Much of the mythology surrounding Nyx and Erebus (or Erebos, as he is sometimes known) is sketchy, at best. You have to dig a little deeper and read tales of other gods and goddesses in order to glean any useful information. Most of the stories recount that Nyx and Erebus were brother and sister—both born of Chaos, with Nyx as the elder of the two—and yet Erebus was also Nyx’s faithful consort, bringing many of her children into the world with her, including (according to Hesiod’s Theogony) Day and Light. It seems particularly symbolic that the deities representing Night and Darkness should bring Day and Light into the world; this seeming paradox holds the seed of much of the dramatic tension in myths and folklore throughout the world—and this duality is certainly exploited in the House of Night series.

  Erebus’ absence from the series makes him an appropriately shadowy figure in another way. Some versions of his story say he is the God of Shadow, rather than simply the God of Darkness, lending him a slightly more sinister feel. He may even have resided in the Underworld—the land of the dead. But regardless of his roots, he is yet another thing that allows us to see the true power of Nyx as presented in the Casts’ world: the Goddess’ consort is relegated to the sidelines. No matter how many mentions or minor appearances there might be of other gods and goddesses, the House of Night series seems to have only one major deity.

  Of course, Greek mythology is not the only place we should look for material that might inform our understanding of a figure as mysterious and complex as Nyx. As the Goddess says herself, in Marked: “I am known by many names . . . Changing Woman, Gaea, A’akuluujjusi, Kuan Yin, Grandmother Spider, and even Dawn.” Although many of these goddesses are more accurately described as earth goddesses—Gaea being the most obvious and perhaps most well-known example—there is a genuine link between the nature of such deities and Nyx herself. Changing Woman is the Navajo goddess of the changing seasons, and some stories even say she created earth and sky (whereas others say she was the child of earth and sky). She is a benevolent figure and one deeply invested in the health and happiness of her people—just as Nyx herself is in the House of Night books.

  Kuan-Yin (or Guanyin) is a primarily East Asian Buddhist deity, sometimes known as the goddess of mercy and compassion and called simply “Kannon” in Japan. What is especially interesting about her is that some scholars believe she is associated with the Virgin Mary—an idea that comes up in the House of Night series when Sister Mary Angela voices her belief that Mary and Nyx are different faces of the same deity. In seventeenth-century Japan, Christianity was banned and it became necessary for believers to follow their faith in secret. Some groups managed to continue their worship of the Virgin Mary by using statues disguised as the goddess Kannon. In Tempted, Damien even mentions this practice in reference to the spread of Christianity throughout Europe:

  You should remember that in your Fledgling Handbook 101, Mary is illustrated as one of the many faces of Nyx . . . It is well documented that during the influx of Christianity into Europe, shrines to Gaea, as well as Nyx, were converted to shrines for Mary long before people converted to the new [religion].

  Grandmother Spider, also mentioned by Nyx in the first House of Night novel, created the world in many Native American legends. In some references she seems more like an earth goddess, but in others she is seen as the creator of the stars in the sky. Her web is the sky itself, and drops of dew caught on each silken strand are the stars.

  There are many other instances of night goddesses in world mythology that Nyx does not mention, like Hine-Nui-te-po, the Maori goddess of night, whose name is usually translated as “Great Lady of the Night.” Some online sources refer to her as the goddess of death and ruler of the underworld, as well. She also gave the sunset its red color. It was this final point that made me realize how good a representation of Nyx she would be for the red fledglings led by Stevie Rae—especially with their ability to survive death and their desire to live underground. Even if the Casts didn’t consciously borrow from Maori mythology, there is still a sense of rightness to those red fledglings as a new “breed” of vampyre among Nyx’s people.

  In Norse mythology, Night is personified by the goddess Nótt. Stories of this night goddess can apparently be found in the famous Prose Edda, one of the primary sources of Norse mythology. It is widely believed to have been written in the thirteenth century by Snorri Sturluson in Iceland and was probably the first time that the history of the various gods and goddesses were given order and written in a coherent form. In it, Nótt gives birth to the personification of Earth, a connection that echoes throughout the House of Night books: all five elements are important to Nyx, but Earth seems to have a special place for her. Again, my mind focuses on Stevie Rae and her affinity for Earth. After all, why would Nyx give the leader of this new breed of vampyres such a strong connection to Earth if it weren’t important to her? Mythologically, the Casts associate Nyx with earth goddes
ses such as Gaea and Changing Woman, not just other goddesses of the night.

  Egyptian mythology has a goddess of the sky, Nut. Her name (sometimes spelled Nuit) literally translates as “Night,” and she is one of the most ancient of all the Egyptian goddesses. It is generally understood that she was originally known as the goddess of the nighttime sky, which makes her a reasonable counterpart to Nyx. It’s interesting—if not necessarily significant—that the ancient Egyptians often depicted Nut as a sacred cow, and some of the artwork is strangely reminiscent of the black bull and the white bull (representing Light/Dark and good/evil) we learn of in Burned.

  In the House of Night series, Nyx is also associated with animals, whether it is horses (fledglings take riding lessons and horses are well cared for at the school); the cats that fill the corridors of the House of Night and become bonded to particular students; or more traditionally feared and hated creatures, such as snakes. In book two, Betrayed, Zoey says:

  Correct me if I’m wrong, Damien, but aren’t snakes closely allied with Nyx? Haven’t they gotten a bad reputation because historically they’ve been symbols of female power, and men wanted to take that power away from women and make it something disgusting and scary instead?

  This is a common thread woven throughout the books: myths are recast (pun intended!) to show us that where women have previously been maligned, the “truth” might be somewhat different. In Betrayed, Zoey also learns that the Gorgon wasn’t a monster who turned men to stone out of hatred, but was in fact a famous vampyre High Priestess whose Goddess-given gift was an affinity for earth. And in Marked, it is revealed that the Amazons weren’t man-haters at all, but simply powerful female vampyre warriors. (We get even more information on Amazon society in The Fledgling Handbook 101.) Being matriarchal—and, by association, pro-female—doesn’t automatically mean that a culture has to be anti-men. Although vampyre society is matriarchal, male vampyres are not treated as second-class citizens. As Neferet says in the very first book, “We respect and appreciate the Sons of Night, and consider them our protectors and consorts.” Erik Night (and with that last name it was obvious that the talented young actor would become a significant figure in Zoey’s life), along with the other male vampyres in the series, is treated with a great deal of admiration (at least until he started acting like a jealous stalker with anger management issues)—and not just for his good looks.

  In Tempted, this theme of respect and appreciation for each others’ differences comes to fruition when Lenobia tells Stevie Rae: “Nyx is our Goddess. You can’t really believe there is only one deity for a world as complex as ours.” This beautifully sums up one way that world mythologies can comfortably coincide. There are as many different belief systems as there are cultures, and despite what some people might think, believing in one doesn’t mean you have to discount the rest. This is particularly well demonstrated in the House of Night during Untamed when, as I mentioned earlier, Sister Mary Angela tells Zoey: “Child, what I believe is that your Nyx is just another incarnation of our Blessed Mother, Mary.”

  Which brings us to the most important recasting P.C. and Kristin perform: that of Nyx herself. In mythology and culture, there don’t seem to be any major “cults” associated with Nyx (such as the “Cult of Demeter” in Greece or the “Cult of Isis” in Egypt), nor are there specific stories written down by the classical scholars and philosophers devoted entirely to her. She appears, instead, in more of a supporting role during other tales, standing in the wings—or the shadows—pushing her many children to center stage. By choosing Nyx as their vampyre Goddess, the Casts did something entirely smart: they chose a goddess with a relatively “clean slate” upon which to build their own mythology. The result is a truly rich and fascinating world, and I look forward to seeing where the House of Night’s incarnation of Nyx takes us next.

  KAREN MAHONEY has been published alongside some of her favorite authors in paranormal anthologies like The Eternal Kiss (2009) and Kiss Me Deadly (2010). She is still in complete shock about this. Her YA novel about alchemy and dark elves, The Iron Witch, was published by Flux in the United States and is available now. She is British, but hopes that you do not hold this against her. Please visit her at www.kazmahoney.com.

  [1] Well, as “literal” as anything can truly be when it comes to mythology.

  { The Dangerous Dead }

  VAMPIRE MYTHOLOGY

  IN THE HOUSE OF NIGHT SERIES

  John Edgar Browning

  READING THE House of Night series is very much akin to reading Zoey’s favorite book, Dracula (1897), for like Bram Stoker’s novel, one will find also in the House of Night’s pages the subtle mingling of folklore and reality with popular fiction. It will probably come as little surprise to readers out there to learn that, when it comes to its vampyres, the House of Night is steeped in all three. However, which parts are “fiction” and which are “reality” may come as a shock and, in some cases, may even seem implausible.

  Folklore has almost as many variations on the vampire as there are vampire films (at least 700 of which, or more, belong to Dracula or his semblance alone[1]), and more often than not the two are confused for one another. The House of Night series, and the various associations it conjures up, is no exception to this. However, the series’ treatment of the vampire mythology is surprisingly faithful to the folklore, a rarity among vampire fiction, which often relies too heavily on screen vampires. This is not to say that the series does not also draw from popular film and TV presentations; it does. And together we shall unearth the House of Night’s mythological foundation, in an attempt to separate fact and fiction from myth and folklore.

  Before continuing any further, however, I would like first to discern, for the sake of clarity, what is meant by the four variations of the word “vampire” readers will come across in this chapter. When speaking of the undead in the House of Night, I shall use the term (1) vampyre, in keeping with the series’ spelling. Thus, the more familiar spelling with (2) vampire shall be reserved for filmic and other literary representations of the undead. If I wish to refer to the undead in whom, for centuries, central and eastern European villagers have believed (and in some places still do believe), I shall use the term (3) revenant. And when, in the latter part of this chapter, I refer to real, walking, talking, self-identifying human vampires, I shall use for them the term (4) vampi(y)re.

  THE REVENANT OF FOLKLORE

  To begin our analysis of the House of Night, let us consider first the series’ wider use of the more traditional elements of myth and folklore. By this is meant what the good Reverend Montague Summers, a noted scholar of the occult, aptly termed “vampirism proper.”

  [2] A consideration of these areas now will be particularly beneficial later on when we begin mapping out the House of Night series’ occasional use of the trendier vampire conventions.

  Now, the first errand in our quest to unearth the vampire myth in the House of Night shall take us 300 years into the past to find the European “revenant.” The revenant, the “dangerous dead”

  [3] of folklore, was not just a vampire in the modern sense of the term. Rather, he scarcely resembled his counterpart on-screen, according to noted folklorist Dr. Paul Barber.

  [4] This malevolent figure, whose physical attributes we’ll review momentarily, was to central and eastern European villagers of centuries past the ghost of a recently deceased relative or neighbor. He or she would visit them in their bedchambers at night and take from them their blood or energy, or, more simply, their vital essence. Such an attack meant either a sudden or lingering death for the villager and the likelihood of returning from the grave as a revenant, as well.

  In hindsight, it’s interesting to note that the revenant’s handiwork was never actually detected by the villagers until after the death of the second or third victim, who usually reported having seen, before his or her untimely demise, the ghostly figure of the villager who had died initially. Fearful villagers would then proceed en masse to the g
rave of the first villager, whom by that point they suspected of being the revenant causing all the mayhem. There they would observe the traditional custom of exhuming (or digging up) the villager’s body, usually after it had lain in the earth for some weeks.

  Unfortunately, the villagers’ knowledge of decompositional processes was quite limited. As a result, the macabre scene they uncovered was to those present nothing short of proof-positive that the deceased had issued forth from the grave and attacked the living. The “signs” they would have taken for evidence, briefly sketched: The body might have appeared fresh and undecomposed, and without the presence of odor

  [5] that was generally thought characteristic of the dead (though not everywhere, as we’ll discuss shortly in reference to Stevie Rae and the other dead fledglings). The body might have seemed in appearance quite plump (i.e., as though well fed), and its position in the grave might have been altered. Its limbs would very likely have been pliable rather than stiff, and its mouth, which before burial had been securely shut (so as to prevent entry by malevolent spirits), might have been open, as would one or both eyes (which, like the corpse’s mouth, had been closed also before burial). The face might have appeared ruddy (or red) and fresh; “fresh” blood (i.e., someone else’s blood) might have appeared around the mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, and the shirt or death shroud might have laid partially or completely soaked in “fresh” blood. The chin and face might have revealed a freshly grown stubble, and hair elsewhere might also appear to have grown after death. The nails, too, might appear longer or else might appear to have fallen away, revealing in their place “freshly” grown ones.