《Thorned Moon》

Chapter 5: The Silver-Bound Rite

【Silver light, moon prayers, the burning of silver tears.】

Morning mist clung tightly to the valley floor as Elowen carefully adjusted the red knot around Wu Jing's neck. The great white goose fluffed its immaculate feathers, proudly lifting its chest, while the girl tightened the Eastern-style "peace knot" with deft fingers — a symbol of long life and safe journey.

Today, she was no longer just a student. She and all the other girls would undergo the "Silver-Bound Rite," stepping from mere novices into true witches of the Moon.

Each girl had been personally dressed by her mistress. Katrina, radiant in honey-brown curls and emerald robes, walked elegantly despite the sharp gaze of her severe teacher. Bejie, lively and daring, tied a brilliant silver snake around her collarbone, her serpent familiar coiling like living jewelry. Even Veronica, who normally wore a permanent sneer, was polished and graceful today.

Yet among the sea of shining silver, Elowen's eyes found only Amber. Her mentor stood at the center of it all — draped in black and silver robes that shimmered like captured moonlight, crowned with a crystal coronet, her emerald gaze sharper than any blade.

For a moment, Elowen forgot to breathe.

The ceremony began.

Oya, a visiting priestess from the River of Harvests, summoned forth a miraculous tree from the soil: a single sprout that stretched, twisted, and bloomed into a massive fruit-laden oak within breaths. Gasps of awe echoed around.

Meanwhile, Helena leaned closer to Elowen, whispering about the foreign sea witches in their flowing blue robes, said to be widows who had bargained with sea gods for survival magic. Their appearance, more ghost than human, sent a chill down Elowen's spine.

Still, she focused — today was about forging one's weapon.

Dozens of shining silver items — swords, chalices, mirrors — were piled high into bubbling cauldrons. The precious metal, donated by human nobles seeking the witches' favor, melted into molten rivers. At the moment when the Moon, the Dawn, and the Stars all hung together in the sky, each girl would forge her sacred artifact.

Failure would mean public disgrace — a sign the goddess had turned away.

The ritual demanded strength of will. Each apprentice had to approach the flames, drink their Birthwine — a potent, blessed spirit — and shape the silver barehanded with the aid of magic and courage.

Katrina stepped forward first.

She trembled when accepting the lamb-horn cup, but after a gulp of the heady wine, her fear vanished. Her artifact, a silver bow, emerged gleaming from the misty cauldron, earning cheers from the crowd.

One by one, the girls drank, cast their spells, and drew forth their sacred treasures. Even Helena, shy and clumsy, managed to forge a magnificent silver saddle for her bull familiar. Veronica, scowling the whole time, pulled a thin, cruel dagger from the steam.

Then —

"Elowen Veyra!"

She stepped forward.

Wu Jing trotted loyally beside her, chest puffed. The crowd murmured, enchanted by the strange sight of the black-haired girl and her proud white goose.

The lamb-horn cup passed into her hands. Elowen drank.

The wine — crafted from the first harvest, sweetened with forbidden fruits — hit her tongue like molten lightning. It started sweet, but quickly turned sharply sour, like biting into green plums under a thunderstorm.

Pain. Courage. Defiance.

She swallowed it all.

The heat blossomed in her chest, as if the goddess herself had lit a fire in her heart. She gripped the heavy tongs, plunged them into the silver cauldron, and—

Words not of this world whispered in her mind:

> **[Condition Unlocked: Divine Permission Granted. Please Bind Artifact Immediately.]**

What?

Elowen blinked, almost dropping the tongs.

Instinct moved her arms before thought could intervene. From the silver pool, she lifted a small, ornate goblet. Exquisite in every way, it shone with a strange, otherworldly luster, like starlight trapped in crystal.

The crowd gasped.

A silver cup?

Not a weapon. Not armor. Not anything useful for killing wolves.

Elowen flushed bright red. She felt as if she were presenting herself — and her goose — as some foolish "Drink and Snack Combo" for the werewolves.

Yet in the crowd, Amber's gaze sharpened. Deep within her emerald eyes, a rare flicker of shock and… pride.

The ritual completed, the festival exploded into wild celebration. Singing, laughter, the fragrance of sea-salt and honeyed wine filled the air.

Elowen, flushed and breathless, clutched her silver goblet. Wu Jing honked once, sounding almost approving.

Perhaps — just perhaps — even an odd, useless object could one day defy the gods themselves.

After all, she was no ordinary witch.