Meeting Night

The steps that decended down beneath the Temple were narrow, the air damp and heavy. The small lantern at Cemara's back cast unreliable shadows ahead, slowing her pace. Her fingertips brushed against the cold stone next to her, a comfort should her foot miss a step in the flickering darkness. She hadn't been allowed the light and she had to be the one to lead. At a certain point, she'd be left entirely alone.
For now, it was just her and the quietly puffing Grand Prelate. The old man was not handling the stairs much better than her even though he could see. It was an effort to twist down into the dark on the narrow stone. They'd been walking for what felt like ages. Careful step after careful step, pausing every now and then while Cemara toed at the next step. They were crude and uneven, worn over time. Hastily cut from the rough rock to begin with.
The heavy black and red robe draped around her shoulders kept the chill at bay. The longer they descended, the colder it got. She swore she'd see her breath eventually.
Rather abruptly, the stairs leveled out to smooth stone. The light stopped. Cemara glanced back at the Prelate in white and red, his white hair a bit of a mess from their walk. "Go on. I'll wait here." Notably on two steps above the last. There was only one that should ever descend into the depths of the Night's Cloister - and that one had been newly chosen. The previous Handler had passed on early that morning.
Resolute in purpose, Cemara nodded once then turned to face the unending darkness. She'd been told to go to the bottom of the twisting stairs with the Prelate, then walk until she met the Night. So that was what she did. Careful step after careful step, heel to toe, heel to toe, she walked away from the light. It became a shadow at her back. A fading light in the oppressive dark until it was gone entirely from her peripheral. Cemara didn't look back, didn't try to find it. Heel to toe, heel to toe, she continued walking forward. Or what she assumed was forward, into a dark so damning there was nothing else.
The change was subtle. A pinprick of light overhead, so soft and dim at first. Joined by another, then another. Like stars quietly alighting above her. Far overhead, shy and muted. Each step brought more to her darkness. Flickering into existence above her until, eventually, there was a hundred or more muted stars above in an impossible night sky. Darkness still stretched on around her but she was no longer entirely swallowed by it. Instead, she was guided by the brighter stars on her new horizon. Following their telling twinkle until a shape resolved out of the dark.
A black throne of stone rose up before her, abrupt in its appearance out of the surrounding gloom. The sharp, narrow seat didn't look to be comfortable. Jagged, it cut a severe figure toward the night sky overhead. Sitting on the throne was a slender woman, dressed in black, decorated in silver that twinkled like the stars above. Though Cemara couldn't see the woman's face because of the extreme shadows, she knew she was being watched.
"Night?" Who else could it be? Though her question had been whispered, the sound carried. Echoed in the vastness.
The woman did not move though her answer came from all around. From above. "Welcome to my prison. Have you come to set me free, beautiful?" Her voice was rich and dark and silk. A luring sound that pulled at Cemara's chest like one might expertly pluck a violin.
With her muscles locked in place, Cemara looked around. For her attention to settle on anything beyond the still figure some distance away. "No, I have come to join you."
The dark night was quiet for so long, Cemara thought she might have lost Night. Might have been forgotten. As she opened her mouth to call out, a breeze of a sigh tugged at her hair and black robe.
"Of course. How could I refuse."
The body in the chair did not move but an ethereal shadow rose from it. A twinkling, night-sky of a shape, vaguely human, began to drift in her direction. Slow but with purpose. "Till your death do us part, beautiful." It was whispered next to Cemara's ear. So close she flinched, looked around. Twisted away from the throne and the star-shape to see who had just spoken to her.
That fright was her last sensation before passing out.

Cemara Tigelis

Handler

The Custodians have two entities / supernatural beings under their control. Night is one of them. In order to control them, the entities are tethered to an innocent soul. Someone who is innately good. Cemara was picked and becomes the Handler for Night.

Night

Personification of the night, of the dark. Has been known as Nyx or Nox. She is an old entity whose mythos stretches back to the greek and roman ages, though she'll say she is older.