#bella moon

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

"There can only be one source of light and that light is Bek"

What can I say, Bella deserves all the hugs

—

They say if you see a woman weeping on the mountaintops, do not bother her. They say she cries for you. For your people and your children. For all those she cannot save.

I hiked the mountains every full moon, looking for her. I did not seek out the Moon Goddess to disrupt her or to harm her. I sought out the Moon Maid to comfort her. To thank her. Most of the people in my village said that the stories of the Moon Goddess were just fairy tales. The Seven Divines were the only beings in the heavens, and they supposedly all presented as men. There was no moon domain.

But I’d seen her once. As a child. Sick, dying. My father would sleep outside with me, in our yard, to try and cool off the fever that refused to abate. For weeks, we made our beds on the grasses to let the nighttime breeze cool off my skin.

There was a full moon during those weeks. And that was the night I saw her.

She appeared in a flash of light on the mountain peak visible from our yard, standing, though she quickly fell to her knees. I saw her weep. I thought I could hear it.

I saw the flowers spring up where she cried. She stayed there for only a few minutes, before disappearing in another moonbeam.

When I woke my father to tell him what I’d seen, he insisted I was dreaming. But looking at the peak, he too saw the glow of the flowers. He ran to them. He was gone until after dawn, but he’d plucked the flower before the sun rose—before it could close up, since moonbells only bloom at night.

My parents put the flower petals, crushed up, into my soup that morning.

And I recovered.

Ever since then, I’d prayed to the Moon Goddess. I prayed to see her one more time. Just once. I prayed to wrap my arms around her and weep with her. Weep my thanks and my mourning at her own sorrow.

Sure I prayed to the other Divines around my family, where it was expected, but alone, I prayed to her.

Legs sore and aching, I completed my hike to the peak. I’d tried other mountaintops over the years, but I always came back to the one where I’d first seen her. Moonbells hadn’t bloomed here since that night when I was a child, and for eighteen years, I’d waited. I’d waited for even the slimmest chance to see her again.

Sometimes, when I was younger, I’d fall asleep on this peak and miss my chance to see the Moon Goddess. Not since I was about twelve, though. I sat on the same rock I’d been making my spot on for eighteen years, and waited.

Sometimes, I doubted I’d ever see her again. Most people said seeing a Divine was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. One that most people never got.

Even though most in my village didn’t believe in the Mood Goddess, they’d still probably consider me blessed to have even seen her once, when I was seven.

A bright flash of silver-white light nearly blinded me, after being used to the darkness. I gasped.

The woman crumpled to the ground in tears, shaking with exhaustion. She wasn’t much older than me, her long hair spilling over her shoulders and nearly brushing the dirt.

I slid off the stone and landed on my knees on the ground. She was real. She wasn’t a dream born from the fever.

More than anything, I wanted to reach out to touch her. To wrap my arms around her and thank her from the bottom of my heart for saving my life when I was a child.

But then I saw the chain wrapped around her. Made of pure moonlight, I assumed it added to the radiant halo of a glow that surrounded her.

She didn’t seem to notice that I was there.

Until I held out my waterskin for her. “My lady?” I asked softly. “Would you like a drink?”

She jolted and winced away from me. Then her tension eased. “I... I have no need of it,” she said. “In this form, I require no food nor drink.” When she looked up and met my gaze, silver-blue eyes peered at me through her dark hair. “Why do you speak to me, mortal? None ever do, even if they do happen upon me.”

I set the waterskin on the ground between us, just in case she chose to take it up. “You saved my life once,” I said, “and I’ve spent nearly twenty years waiting for the chance to thank you.”

“I’ve saved no one in centuries,” she said, voice thick with tears.

I watched one slide off her face and strike the ground. Immediately, a moonbell sprung from the soil, petals uncurling and leaves swaying in the wind on its stalk.

I cupped the flower between my fingers. “You’ve saved hundreds of people,” I said softly. “With these. The flowers cured the illness I was dying from. I’ve seen them used on a man with a hopelessly crushed arm from a farming accident. He made a full recovery. You’re still helping people, my lady.” I sighed. “May, may I give you a hug?”

The Moon Goddess sniffed and wiped her eyes. “You may.”

I scooted over the ground and wrapped my arms around the Moon Goddess. “Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you for saving my life. I’ve waited eighteen years to offer you my gratitude.” I began to cry with her, holding her in shaking arms.

“Why... why do you weep, child?” she asked softly, setting a hand on my arm.

I wiped my eyes. “I weep for you, my lady. I weep for your sorrows and mournings. I weep in sorrow for you, but also in gratitude for the opportunity I finally had to thank you.” She leaned closer to me, letting me hold her tighter.

We both cried. I knew we didn’t have much time.

“My lady, you still heal us. You still save lives. You are loved and appreciated here. Some of my village may not believe there is a Goddess of the Moon, but they still thank the heavens when a Moonbell cures their ailments. I know it’s of little comfort, but please know, I would not be here today were it not for you.” I hugged her tighter. “I have a future because of you. I can never thank you enough.”

“This embrace is thanks enough,” the Moon Goddess said. Her voice shook slightly, but she still sounded firm.

“Is there anything I can do for you, during your few minutes here?”

“Just stay with me. You’re much kinder than... him.”

I scrunched my eyebrows. “Him?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Just stay. Please.’’

“Of course, my lady.”

She reached a hand out for my water skin. I handed it to her. She took a small drink, then tapped the rim. I saw moonlight dancing in the water droplet clinging to the opening. “Be safe, child. Put these flowers to good use.”

“I will.”

I held her in silence for another minute, both of our tears splashing into the dirt.