Aria still couldn't shake the weight of the tree's presence when Sira leaned in, eyes glittering with excitement.
"You came at the right time," she whispered.
Aria blinked. "What do you mean?"
Maire, the softer of the two girls, exchanged a quick grin with Sira before stepping closer. "The Blue Moon rises soon. And with it comes Nicasia Night."
Aria frowned slightly, the words unfamiliar. "Nicasia Night?"
Sira clasped her hands together as though the name itself carried magic. "It's a ritual—older than our families, older than the council. Once every cycle of the Blue Moon, we gather beneath the tree. We wear the night on our bodies, dance in its silver light, and offer songs to the roots."
Thalen, standing just behind them, added, "It's the night the barrier between this world and the spirit-stream weakens. They say the tree listens more closely, and sometimes… it answers."
Aria's pulse quickened. "Answers how?"
Maire gave a half-smile. "Dreams. Whispers. Some claim to see their ancestors, or walk in visions of what's to come. Others… nothing at all. The tree chooses."
Sira's eyes softened as she studied Aria. "But for us, the ritual is also joy. We prepare for weeks—dances, songs, the weaving of dresses."
"Dresses?" Aria echoed.
"Yes!" Sira's face brightened, her voice taking on a musical lilt. "Each of us chooses a fabric dyed in shades of the night. Deep indigos, star-silver threads, sometimes patterns of glowing moss stitched along the hems. When the moonlight strikes, the whole grove glitters as though stars have fallen to earth."
Maire nodded. "Some wear veils laced with dew-crystals that shimmer with every step. The dance is not just ritual—it's beauty. A way of offering ourselves as part of the night sky."
Thalen chuckled softly. "It's also a test. You have to move with the rhythm of the roots. Trip once, and the elders will say the tree has denied your blessing."
Aria felt heat rise in her cheeks. "And… do you expect me to take part?"
Sira tilted her head, thoughtful. "You're not Quartie, but you are under Lirien's wing. That may be enough. And…" Her lips curved in a mischievous smile. "I'd like to see you in a starlit gown."
Aria's stomach twisted at the thought. Dresses spun with silver, dances under alien moons—it was dazzling, but also terrifying. She had never belonged less, and yet, a tiny flicker of curiosity stirred within her chest.