Last night it rained and the sky was so cloudy you couldn't see the moonlight, but tonight was different.
Dill opened her eyes as soon as the silvery moonlight spilled over the corner of the bed's edge.
The truth was that a certain moon spirit was Dillng such a spirited and noisy racket in her head that Dill couldn't sleep even if she wanted to, so she had to make sure that Lily could sleep through the night with a small pinch of hypnotic powder ground from valerian root first.
Wherever there was moonlight shining, it was the Moon Witch's sanctuary.
The brunette landed on her bare feet and got out of bed soundlessly with the large white goose in her arms.
The room they slept in was the former study of Mr. Cole, with volumes of books and piles of straw paper, a large ceremonial black hat, and a leather beak mask hanging on the wall. The living Mr. Cole was a respected plague doctor, and it was probably for this reason that the legend said that the plague that had killed him had no cure and that it must have been the curse of the werewolves.
A small prayer window opened near the beams of the house, where sunlight or moonlight would pour down like a broken hourglass on the devout. It wasn't hard to see that when the man was alive, the family of three was rich and full.
Unlike during the day, when it was just cold power, the moon elf at night had his own ideas, and he urged Dill to be devout in prayer and to dip and wash the artifacts in the moonlight.
[Tonight the bowstring of the Moon Goddess is sheltering the forest, and you can't afford to be lazy; take out your magical artifacts and put them under the moonlight to shine].
Dill did not refuse, and in fact, the old hound's abnormality made her extra alert, tossing and turning.
The moonlight on the floor was cut by the window pane into silver-sparkling square ponds. Dill dipped into them; even if it was just a small, insignificant corner, it made her feel at home instantly. With a click, she softly opened the lock of the medicine cupboard.
The wind blowing in from the window lifted the dust on the turf paper, as well as an unusual aroma of medicinal herbs. The young girl's dexterous fingers pressed the hidden mechanism, the layers of hidden compartments snapped and unfolded, and the tiny, inaudible glazed bells seemed to be like elves whispering in the wind. In the night when no one knows, a witch's small workshop quietly unfolds.
Silver cups and crystal mirrors were taken out one by one by Dill and spread out in the moonlight.
The young girl picked up the bronze-looking glass, surveyed it, and wondered if it could tell a werewolf. It was just a shame that a stranger couldn't act too maverick at a time like now, and even if she found out about the werewolf, she wouldn't be able to convince the others to believe it.
She placed the bronze-looking glass back in the moonlight, letting the clear crystals bleed.
"Eh?"
She hadn't been able to take a good look at her magic weapon since the chicken-and-dog journey.
Round-mouthed and tall and unadorned, it appeared to be a perfectly ordinary silver goblet, only the silver plating on the exterior haloed with an alluring luster, and she couldn't help but hold it aloft in the moonlight to survey it, contemplating the possibilities of intoxicating a werewolf with wine purified from a silver goblet.
Tick.
Dill thought she had misheard the second tick falling immediately afterward, while the silver cup in her hand trembled slightly, as if some crystalline dew had broken at the bottom.
She shook the silver cup; the bottom of the cup flashed with running water-like light, seemingly resonating with the moonlight outside the window, refracting the room full of clear light.
"This is a full moon gel." She marveled.
The Full Moon Condensation, as its name suggests, is a clear substance that can only be collected on the night of the full moon. It is like a liquid or a solid, translucent like a crystal when it is not moving, and when it is flowing, it is clear water. Full Moon Gel can purify all impurities and perfectly blend with herbs or metals with different characteristics, so it can be said to be the best magic medicine base and alchemy material.
However, just like rare silver and gold, it is not easy to collect full moon gel. The moonlight of the string moon is too weak, and even if you wait for the night of the full moon, you will have to wait for several months before you can draw a vial of full moon gel.
Except now the liquid silver of this witch's realm was pouring out of the bottom of her own cup in an unending stream.
Laurel answered her confusion:
[The magic weapon given by the Moon God can naturally draw the amount under the moonlight, your magic is linked to your Highness's power of abundance, your silver cup is naturally the same symbol of abundance, basically, as long as it is a liquid, it can give it an unceasing flow of magical properties, allowing you to use it inexhaustibly].
This was probably the best news Dill had heard in the past few days. Her joy and anticipation were transmitted to Laurel, and the elf seemed to be cheerful as well.
"So you should pray and practice hard, and probably wait until the next full moon, when I've stored up enough energy to manifest myself.
Dill couldn't help but wonder about Laurel's form; she remembered the elf with the dragonfly wings from before.
Don't confuse me with that group of lake elves who only know how to play, but I am a spirit of light and wisdom born out of flawless moonlight and maidenly sadness.
So there's a chain of contempt in the elf community. What do you mean by "maiden's sorrows"? Like a magical girl's food cupboard? A magical maiden of moonlight? Or Dungeons and Dragons?
Dill can't say anything about it; it's all down to her own vulgar thoughts.
But the mention of elves suddenly struck her: "Laurel, can you sense the presence of werewolves?"
[Of course I can. Cinnamon was deeply afraid of being compared to the lake elf.
Dill holds down her thumping heart and asks, "Then do you know who the werewolf is?"
[He's hiding well; it's faint but I can feel that ominous aura.]
Not waiting for Dill's disappointment, Cinnamon coldly added:
"He's been very close to you, and your scent seems to be attracting him.
The white moonlight seemed to have formed a layer of frost on her hands, and Dill was chilled to the bone, as if she had been placed in an abyss.
She was about to say something when she suddenly heard a tinkling sound, crisp and clean like dew dripping from the eaves, and the sound was outside.
Dill didn't have time to think about it, but the sound of the bell came from far away, as if it were a series of accelerating footsteps rapidly approaching the area.
The ringer?
A scream tore through the silence of the night.