Moonlit nights always make me think of Orion and Artemis—such a bittersweet tale from Greek mythology. Orion, the mighty hunter, was one of the few mortals who won Artemis' respect, and some say her heart. They roamed the forests together, sharing a bond deeper than mere companionship. But Apollo, Artemis' brother, grew jealous and tricked her into shooting Orion with an arrow. When she realized her mistake, she placed him among the stars, forever chasing the Pleiades.
What gets me is the irony—Artemis, goddess of the hunt, revered for her independence, yet tangled in love's tragedy. The constellation Orion feels like a cosmic apology, a reminder that even gods aren't immune to regret. Every time I stargaze, I wonder if Artemis still watches him, her arrows forever silent.