Celeste
The pond was silver under the moon.
I walked down alone, a little after midnight, the grass cool and wet against my bare ankles, the path a pale ribbon winding between the birches. The whole night smelled of water and wet stone and the faint sweetness of night-blooming things I didn't have names for. A breeze moved through the leaves overhead, and each trunk stood out pale and slender against the dark, like a row of candles that had been lit and left to burn. Far off, an owl called twice and fell silent.
The crescent charm rested warm and heavy against my collarbone, swinging faintly with every step.
Odalys had said it would be safer in my keeping than anyone's, and I hadn't argued. She had fastened the chain around my neck herself, in the kitchen, with hands that trembled so s
