My Moonlit Declaration

“Ding—— Ding——” The crisp sound of copper bells exploded in the silent night. Elara Lewis trembled all over, and the half-woven vine basket in her hands slipped from her lap, rolling onto the muddy ground. This time she heard it clearly—one deep tone and three high ones, four distinct sounds in total. The large bell was low and resonant, like an old clock striking; the three smaller ones were clear and bright, their tails stretching long in the air, leaving a trembling ripple behind. “Tomorrow is the Snow Moon Clan’s Full Moon Ceremony,” a voice came from three feet behind her. Elara spun around abruptly. A man was standing in the center of her small hut. She had no idea when he had entered. The door bolt was still latched, and the windows had not been opened. He simply stood there, his milky-white long cloak draping from his shoulders all the way to the ground. A deep purple starlight silk ribbon was tied around his forehead, faintly glowing under the moonlight. In his right hand, he held a purple fir wood staff, and hanging from his waist were four copper bells—one large and three small—now completely still. The sound she had just heard felt like nothing more than an illusion. His face was as calm as the night itself. His eyes were silver-white, and his voice was deep and powerful, echoing in the quiet darkness. Elara had seen many eyes in her life. The tavern owner in the east of the city had cloudy yellow eyes that looked at people as if appraising their worth. The old knife-sharpener at the end of the street had dull gray eyes that never truly looked at anyone. The thug who came every month to collect protection money had tiny green-bean-sized eyes, and the way he looked at her made her want to vomit. But these silver-white eyes—she had only ever seen them on one person. “Teacher Herman?” Her voice came out smaller than she had expected. He did not answer. He simply looked at her. That gaze reminded her of that night ten years ago. She had been curled up in a corner of an abandoned construction site, wrapping herself tightly in the only tattered blanket she owned, hoping the world wouldn’t see her. Then this man had stepped out from the shadows, crouched in front of her, and asked, “Little beggar, what’s your name?” Ten years had passed. He was still wearing that same milky-white cloak, and his eyes were still silver-white. And she had grown from a little beggar who could barely speak her own name into a young woman who could now survive on her own skills. “The Full Moon Ceremony?” Elara stood frozen in place. “What is the Snow Moon Clan’s Full Moon Ceremony?” she asked, stuttering, her heart filled with confusion and fear. She had never attended any ceremony. She had never joined any festival, any gathering, anything that belonged to “a group of people.” She belonged only to herself, and to this small, drafty, leaky hut that she had earned through her vine-weaving and pottery skills. She remembered when she was eight years old, Teacher Herman had told her in that abandoned construction site, “You are a member of the Snow Moon Clan.” At the time, she hadn’t even known what “Snow Moon Clan” meant. Later, the teacher taught her how to read, how to weave vines, how to fire pottery, and how to survive on the streets of the human world. But he had never mentioned the words “Snow Moon Clan” again. She thought she had already forgotten. “You must attend,” his voice was low, like a stone sinking into deep water. “You turned eighteen this year. Tomorrow’s Full Moon Ceremony will awaken the wolf bloodline within you and grant you the power of the wolf clan!” “But I—” She opened her mouth. “I’m only a half-wolf hybrid.” Ten years ago, on that very night, Teacher Herman had tested her bloodline and frowned as he said, “Half-wolf hybrid.” She didn’t know what that meant, but she had heard the disappointment in his tone. “A bloodline failure with a defective and weak transformation ability, someone who can’t even maintain a stable wolf form—can someone like that really participate in the ‘Full Moon Ceremony’?” She tried hard to keep her voice steady. The teacher did not answer. He simply looked at her. Something surged in those silver-white eyes, but it was eventually suppressed. He crouched down. “Because you are a descendant of the Snow Moon Clan.” He reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder. The hand was heavy and steady, as if pinning her in place. “Even with a half-wolf hybrid identity, you are qualified to participate in this ceremony.” His palm was very hot. Elara suddenly realized that this was the first time in ten years he had touched her. When he taught her vine-weaving, he only pointed at the direction of the vines with his finger, never touching her hand. When he taught her pottery, he stood three feet away from the kiln entrance, watching her place the clay blanks inside by herself. For ten years, he had stayed by her side, always keeping exactly three feet of distance. Now his hand rested on her shoulder, burning hot. “This is your destined mission,” he said, his voice so low it seemed squeezed out from his chest. “It is also the only way for you to find yourself and understand your origins.” Elara lifted her head, wanting to find the answers in his eyes—why her? Why now? Why wait until after she turned eighteen? But she asked nothing. She simply said, “Okay.” “Come with me. I’ll take you to the Snow Moon Clan.” The teacher stood up, turned around, and walked out of the hut. “Not until tomorrow?” Elara stood up, her knees a little weak. “Why are we going now?” She was full of confusion. “Tomorrow’s Full Moon Ceremony requires every Snow Moon Clan woman who has turned eighteen to attend,” his voice drifted back from the doorway, already carrying a sense of distance. “Did you think you could just step from the human realm to the Snow Moon Clan?” She barely had time to hesitate. A powerful gust of wind rose from beneath her feet, lifting her upright. Then a massive force pushed against her back, shoving her entire body out through the threshold. Elara stumbled a few steps. When she regained her balance, she was already standing three feet behind the teacher. This was the position she was most familiar with. For ten years, Herman had always walked in front, and she had followed behind—always exactly three feet apart. The night was deep and still. There were no pedestrians, only moonlight spreading across the stone-paved road, damp and glistening as if it had just rained. They passed through one narrow alley after another. The soles of Elara’s cloth shoes were thin; she could feel the cool chill of the stone slabs beneath her feet. They crossed more than a dozen small bridges. The water beneath the bridges was pitch black, bottomless. Occasionally something would skim across the surface, creating a ripple that quickly faded back into stillness. Elara remained silent. Herman said nothing either. She knew this city’s nights too well—which alley ended with stray dogs, which bridge underpass could shelter her from the wind, which street corner would have leftover food thrown out in the early morning. For eighteen years, every shadow here had been her home. They stopped in front of a dilapidated stone bridge. “Once we cross this bridge, we’ll enter the Shadow Abyss Forest,” Herman said. His voice echoed at the empty bridgehead, like a pebble dropped into a deep well. Elara looked at the ancient-looking stone bridge. Its surface was covered in moss, and several sections of the railing were broken. The far end of the bridge disappeared into darkness; nothing could be seen. “Shadow Abyss Forest?” “The natural barrier of the Snow Moon Clan.” Herman stepped onto the stone bridge. His pace wasn’t fast, yet Elara found that even jogging she couldn’t keep up. With every step he took, the ground seemed to shrink beneath his feet. The scenery on both sides flew backward rapidly, the shadows of the trees stretching into long gray lines. Elara began to pant, but Herman showed no intention of waiting for her. After crossing the stone bridge, they entered a forest. The trees were incredibly tall—so tall their tops couldn’t be seen. A faint mist lingered throughout the forest, and moonlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, creating patches of dappled light and shadow. She didn’t know how long they walked. Elara’s legs grew sore and painful, her breathing became ragged, and hot sweat kept trickling down her forehead. Yet Herman continued to walk exactly three feet ahead of her—neither too far nor too close. When the sky began to lighten at dawn, they finally emerged from the Shadow Abyss Forest. Elara stopped, gasping for air, hands braced on her knees. Before her stood an enormous stone wall. It was so tall that even tilting her head back, she couldn’t see the top. The surface was uneven, densely covered with countless symbols and patterns that gave off a mysterious aura.