The golden hues of the Waxhollow forest shimmered as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Solwyn moved quickly through the towering grass and bulbous fruit trees, their basket brimming with glowing moonfruit. Each orb pulsed faintly in the dimming light, a treasure for the village.

The air grew cooler, shadows stretching longer beneath the trees. Solwyn reached for another cluster of moonfruit, their fingers slick with glowing sap as they plucked it free. Their gaze flicked to the horizon—the sun teetered dangerously low—but another cluster higher up caught their eye.

With a leap, they grabbed the branch, sending fruit tumbling into their arms. They landed with a thud, grinning—until the golden light faded entirely, leaving the forest cloaked in shadow.

The chill of night swept over them, and their body stiffened. Wax crept over their limbs, locking them in place as they stumbled against a mossy rock.

“Ah, perfect timing,”

They muttered sourly before their jaw froze, leaving them in a frozen, waxy stasis.

---

Dawn broke softly, the first light warming Solwyn’s waxy form. Their glow returned faintly as their body softened, amber eyes flickering open. They stretched—then froze.

Just a few steps away, perched on a low rock, sat a figure bathed in fading moonlight. A moon-person.

Pale and shimmering, the figure’s dark eyes watched them with an expression both curious and uneasy. Neither moved, the silence between them as fragile as spun glass.

“Didn’t think your lot stuck around for the sunrise,”

Solwyn spoke up, propping themselves upright.

“What’s the matter—lost track of time, or just too enchanted by the view?”