With the satchel now holding the precious collection of Moonpetal blossoms, Shadowroot, and Whispervine, Freya led Myra away from the dense woods. Instead of returning directly to the antique shop, she guided them towards a path that wound upwards, leading to the edge of a nearby mountain. As they ascended, the air grew cooler, carrying the crisp scent of pine and distant earth.

  Reaching the precipice, they were greeted by a breathtaking vista. The valley below y like a dark, velvety carpet dotted with the scattered lights of the sleeping vilge. Above them, the moon hung high in the inky sky, a luminous orb casting a silvery glow over the ndscape. The silence was profound, broken only by the gentle whisper of the wind as it swept across the mountainside.

  Freya stood at the edge, her dark shawl billowing softly behind her, her crimson eyes reflecting the moonlight. She seemed lost in contemption, her usual brisk demeanor softened by the tranquil beauty of the night. Turning to Myra, a serene expression on her face, she spoke in a low, almost reverent tone.

  “The moon,” she murmured, her gaze fixed on the celestial sphere, “is a silent witness to the ages. It has seen empires rise and fall, loves blossom and fade. Its light is a gentle balm, a stark contrast to the harshness of the sun.”

  She gestured towards the vista before them. “Look, Myra. See how the darkness softens the sharp edges of the world. The worries of the day fade into insignificance under this vast, starlit canvas. The night holds a different kind of beauty, a quiet power that many mortals fail to appreciate in their rush towards the dawn.”

  Her voice held a hint of wistfulness, a sense of belonging to this nocturnal realm. “For creatures like myself, the night is not something to be feared, but a sanctuary. A time of peace, of crity. It is when the world truly comes alive for us, in its own subtle and mysterious ways.” Her words offered Myra a glimpse into Freya’s world, a world where darkness held beauty and the moon offered soce.

  Myra stood beside Freya at the mountain's edge, the cool night air invigorating her senses. She gazed out at the panorama of the sleeping valley bathed in the moon's ethereal glow. It was a view she had seen countless times, yet tonight, through Freya's eyes, it held a new depth and significance.

  "It is beautiful," Myra agreed softly, her voice barely a whisper against the gentle breeze. She looked up at the moon, its silvery light casting delicate shadows across the ndscape. "I've always thought of the night as a time for rest, for sleep. A quiet pause before the busyness of the day begins again."

  She then turned her gaze towards Freya, understanding dawning in her eyes. "But for you… it's different, isn't it? The night isn't an ending, but a beginning. A time when you can finally… be yourself, without the constraints of the sun." The weight of Freya's earlier words about her limitations settled more deeply within Myra, giving her a newfound appreciation for the simple act of being able to walk freely under the moon.

  Looking back at the valley, the scattered lights no longer seemed like just distant homes, but beacons of warmth and life in a world that Freya could only observe from the periphery during the day. A wave of empathy washed over her again, mingled with a growing respect for the ancient being beside her. "I… I never really thought about it that way before," Myra admitted. "The night… it does have a different kind of calm. A quiet strength." She realized that Freya wasn't just enduring the darkness; she was embracing its unique beauty.

  .

  .

  Yukikotak

  The serene light of a full moon at night always fills me with a sense of peace and nostalgia, instantly transporting me back to the various countries I've visited. It's as if the moon itself is a constant witness, connecting me to those distant pces whenever I gaze upon its gentle glow.

  Have you ever experienced the calm and peaceful light of a full moon at night?