Harvest of the East night market.

  “Let me try yours,” Aaron said.

  “Here.”

  Luther handed him a half-eaten skewer of roasted pork, then reached into the paper bag again and pulled out more skewers, giving them to the pumpkins and Acher.

  “Yummm, the meat is so tender, and the seasoning’s just right. You should try mine too, this is fire-grilled chicken, super delicious!” Aaron stretched out his skewer toward Luther.

  “Tasty.”

  The Harvest of the East was a night market renowned across the valley, stretching along the western shores of Lake Nerardeusis. Every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, hundreds of stalls came alive with food, drinks, local specialties, and souvenirs. It was one of the most beloved attractions in the Golden Wheat Valley, always buzzing with travelers and locals.

  “My god, I’m stuffed already, and there are still so many dishes I haven’t even tried.” Aaron gave his stomach a pat.

  They had been eating nonstop since six in the evening, and now it was almost nine.

  “Better be careful. You’ll be like Jack-O,” Luther teased.

  Indeed, Jack-O had grown noticeably rounder and rounder.

  “Hey, hey, look at these muscles!” Aaron tilted his chin.

  “Squeakuse me??!” Jack-O piped up, holding two skewers up at once.

  Don’t think that he didn’t understand what they were talking about!

  “We should come back here tomorrow night and the night after. I haven’t had nearly enough yet,” Acher said.

  “We can. Eat more, there’s plenty.” Luther gave him some gentle strokes on the feathers.

  The group carried their food to the market's main square, where a spirit troupe was performing a play. They sat down, the air buzzing with chatter and the smell of food drifting around them.

  “Orpheus could not resist the doubt gnawing at his heart. At the very last step, just before leaving the Underworld, he turned his head,” the narrator said.

  On stage, the spirit of a middle-aged man in a white chiton twisted his head a full one hundred and eighty degrees.

  “Noooooooo…” his cry tore through the silence, filled with anguish, as he saw the spirit playing Eurydice fall backward and vanish into the stage floor.

  “From that moment on, Eurydice was condemned to the eternal darkness of the Abyss.

  From then, forevermore, forevermore.

  By fate divided.”

  The narrator spoke the closing lines with solemn weight, and the entire troupe of spirits reappeared, lining up across the stage to bow to the audience.

  The crowd erupted in applause; some spectators even wiped away tears.

  “If I were trapped in the underworld, would you come save me?” a young raccoon beastkin girl sniffed and whispered to the wolf boy beside her.

  “No.”

  “What a touching story. But if the actor playing Orpheus had been shorter and more muscular, I definitely would’ve tossed in two Aurion coins,” a goblin woman sniffled, tossing a coin into the tip bucket in front of the stage.

  Aaron burst out laughing and threw in two Lypus coins of his own, his other hand still busy recording the play on his phone.

  “The actor playing Tarisel, oops, I mean Eurydice, was acting really good, though,” he remarked, grinning.

  Never mind that “she” was clearly a bulky, broad-shouldered man in dress and wig.

  “I wonder if there’s a delivery service that sends packages down to Hell. I’d love to mail this play to Tarisel,” Aaron muttered to himself.

  “He would be so mad.” Luther chuckled.

  “That’s the whole point, hahahaha.”

  After the performance, the group rented a small boat to row out onto Lake Nerardeusis.

  Aaron and Luther decided one canoe was enough for the whole group, since three pumpkins and Acher hardly took up any space. They didn’t know that most of the rental boats of that kind were designed for couples, so the ticket girl gave them a knowing smile as she handed over the oars, leaving the two boys confused by her expression.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  They rowed out to the center of the lake and stopped there. Under the moon's brilliance, they all sat close together, gazing at the city glittering with lights in the distance.

  “Squeak, fish!” Jack-O squealed when a school of glowing orange fish circled around them.

  Pompo took a small crumb of roasted meat and tossed it into the water. The glowing fish darted in, nibbling, and soon more and more swam over until an entire cluster surrounded the boat, their faint orange radiance lighting up the rippling surface of the lake.

  “Squeak, give me some too!” Squashy cried out.

  “Hahahaha.”

  Bright laughter spilled into the night air.

  Aaron tilted his head back, gazing up at the vast sky above, and spoke:

  “I wonder if someday we might be able to fly all the way up to the moon?”

  “That’s no big deal. You two could do that easily once you reach the Grand rank. Honestly, even reaching the lord or arcane rank would already be enough,” Acher replied.

  “Really, Mr. Acher? Then if we became gods… would we be able to travel across the stars?” Aaron asked.

  “Of course, that’s also why gods are called cosmic beings. But it’s not like they fly straight ahead in a direction. Getting from Earth to the Moon is nothing compared to the real challenge of crossing the vastness of the cosmos. Even a major being would still need years just to fly out of this star system you now call the solar system,” Acher explained. “Instead of flying, divine beings can manipulate space to teleport, and moving that way is far faster.”

  …

  That night.

  Inside the hotel room, Aaron lay sprawled on the bed, a catalog open in his hands, while Luther sat on the floor nearby, playing with the pumpkins.

  “Tomorrow night at nine is the main festival. Starting at eight, there will be a lantern parade, and then the ritual at the temple,” Aaron said.

  “What’s the lantern parade?” Luther asked.

  “It’s a tradition of the festival. Everyone carries a lantern and begins marching from the Therompós Temple to the Serene Temple on the Echo Hill. At the end of the procession, the lanterns are placed upon the hillside, where people offer prayers for peace and happiness in the coming year,” Aaron explained. “So tomorrow we’ll need to go buy lanterns for that.”

  The next morning, the group made their way to a street not far from the hotel. The entire road was lined with hollow tree trunks, each one carved open to form a small shop. Lanterns hung everywhere: suspended from branches overhead, tied to vines, or hanging in the natural hollows of the wood. They swayed gently in the breeze, filling the street with soft color and drifting light.

  There were lanterns shaped like grains and fruits, like trees and animals, glowing in shades of gold, green, red, and pale blue. The air felt warm and festive, alive with murmured conversations and the faint chiming of grass brushing together.

  They wandered beneath the branches, turning in slow circles as he looked up at the lanterns above them.

  “Wow, there are so many kinds,” Aaron said in awe. “How are we supposed to choose?”

  As he reached up toward one cluster, his hand paused on a lantern that looked a little bit different from the rest. It was designed like a silver shield broken in half and folded inward, shielding the candle at its center.

  “I like this one. It looks kinda cool,” Aaron said without much thought, lifting it down.

  A low, amused sound drifted from beside the street.

  Embedded in the trunk of an enormous old tree nearby was the face of an old lady, weathered and calm, its features naturally grown from the bark. Moss clung to the edges like hair, and its eyes opened slowly as it looked at the lantern in Aaron’s hands.

  “That is a rare choice, boy,” the tree spirit said, her voice slow and deep. “Most people pass it by.”

  Aaron blinked and turned toward her. “Really? Why?”

  “That lantern is meant for praying for safety in times of danger,” she replied. “Not for joyful years, nor for easy ones. It is chosen by those who expect hardship, or those who are already walking toward it.”

  Aaron paused, then scratched the back of his head and laughed. “Huh. I didn’t mean to pick anything weird. It just… felt right.”

  The tree spirit’s lips curved into something like a smile. “Then perhaps it was not an accident.”

  Luther glanced at the lantern, then at Aaron. After a moment, he nodded slightly. “That one suits you.”

  Aaron grinned, holding the lantern a little tighter.

  Luther took his time before choosing. In the end, he reached for a lantern shaped like a …lemon, its pale yellow light soft and steady. He held it for a moment, then nodded to himself, clearly satisfied.

  Aaron shook his head. “I’m not even surprised.”

  Squashy, on the other hand, waddled straight toward a cluster of flower-shaped lanterns and proudly claimed a rose-shaped one, petals shining in warm colors. She hugged it tightly, looking happier than ever.

  Pompo and Jack-O were far less restrained. The two of them bounced between stalls before finally settling on a pair of ridiculous lanterns, one shaped like a weird flat fish and the other like a crooked stick figure with mismatched eyes. They laughed and showed them off, clearly convinced they had made the best choices.

  The lanterns swayed gently above them, filling the street with soft laughter and light.

  …

  At eight o’clock on Saturday evening, darkness settled over Sicily as every source of light was extinguished. Even the glowing flowers were covered, and the fireflies dimmed and went still.

  A massive crowd had already gathered outside the Therompós Temple. The moon high above shone brightly, bathing the valley in gentle light so that no one felt lost or uneasy.

  Laughter rippled through the air, chasing away the chill of the night.

  On the front platform stood a middle-aged man. This was Leonardo Sullivan, the mayor of Sicily.

  He wore a green priest’s robe embroidered with patterns of wheat in shimmering arcgold thread. On his head rested a white headdress set with an oval gem that glowed a warm orange.

  “For nine thousand years, since the night of the Cerulean Moon…” he began his opening speech, his voice resonant.

  “…besides celebrating the Great Peace, tonight we also honor the immense sacrifice of Our Lady…”

  The unique feature of the Moonlight Festival in Sicily was that it was held alongside memorial rites for the Goddess of Harvest.

  “…may the peaceful moonlight forever shine upon us, guarding us from past to present, and for future generations until the end of time.”

  When the opening speech ended, he lit a large lantern shaped like a sheaf of wheat and raised it high before leading the ceremonial parade toward the Serene Temple.

  The festival-goers began passing candles to one another, lighting their own lanterns. Many lanterns featured plant themes, such as grains, fruits, vegetables, stalks of wheat, corn, apples, watermelons, flowers…

  Of course, there were plenty of lanterns in different shapes, like moons, dragons, fish, pencils, and heels… the festival rules never placed strict limits on what form a lantern could take.

  In the crowd, candle flames slowly multiplied, spreading from one person to the next until the entire square became an ocean of light, illuminating the faces of everyone present.

  “In fields of green, under moon so blue…” Leonardo began to sing.