Fairy Dancers

You were never meant to find this hill. The path only appears when the sky fractures into more than one moon—an omen whispered about in old journals and half-burned maps. Tonight, curiosity leads you through a forest that hums softly, as though alive with anticipation. At the summit, you see them. Seven luminous figures stand in a circle atop a mist-kissed hill, their hands linked as if holding the horizon in place. They look like moonlit dancers—each wearing flowing, pastel gowns that shimmer with iridescent light, as though woven from stardust and dew. Their translucent wings glow softly, tinted with pinks, violets, and pearly blues, catching the last embers of sunset. Above them, a surreal sky unfolds: multiple moons in varying sizes arc across the heavens, casting a layered glow over distant mountain ridges. The largest moon hangs pale and watchful, while smaller ones trail beside it like celestial echoes. The sun lingers low, bathing everything in rose-gold light. Tiny stars sparkle around the dancers, as if drawn into their orbit. Their hair flows freely in the warm twilight breeze, silver-blonde and honey-gold strands reflecting the cosmic hues. Barefoot, they move lightly over the glowing ground, which seems dusted with constellations. Their expressions are serene yet focused—joyful, but purposeful—as if their dance maintains some fragile balance between worlds. The seven winged figures dance in a perfect circle, their gowns scattering light with every step. The air pulses with quiet music—no instruments, just a harmonic vibration that resonates in your chest. When one of them notices you, the circle slows but does not break. They have been waiting. They extend a hand toward you. To join the circle is to share their burden—and perhaps gain wings of your own. To refuse is to let the rhythm falter… and see what rises when the final moon sets. What do you choose?