The New Moon

The endless stars in the zodiac band glow in the moonless sky, flashing and whispering from the depths of the universe. The constellation of Taurus races across the sky, Pleiades glittering in a tiny cluster close by. Their brilliance penetrates the darkness, illuminating the grassy hilltop overlooking the valley, surrounded by steep cliff walls that claw to the desert floor above them. In the distance, a glowing waterfall spills out of the darkness into a pearlescent pool, before winding into a silver river that slices through the middle of the valley floor. Night animals lurk in the shadows between the trees.

White flowers blooming on the cliff walls lean in to listen to the story whispered by the person sitting on the carved log at the highest point on the hill. A glowing fire roars on a bed of glowing coals in the center of the circle formed by the six other logs carved into seats. On each log sits one person, the firelight bouncing off all seven of their carved wood faces, each etched into a Pterosaur face. Villagers sit on the ground between them; glowing firelight bounces off of their tangled arms and legs. Men, women, and children squeeze in tight together, each wearing necklaces made from the white perfumed flowers that drip down the nighttime valley walls.

A low hum begins from beneath the wooden mask of the person seated on the highest log, their low voice charging the air that connected them. One by one, the remaining six seated humans harmonize, their masks vibrating against their faces. The orange flames glow brighter, dancing furiously as it licks the star-filled sky. The villagers join the singing; their voices stretch up into the star-streaked sky above them.

The first person stands as the villagers continue to chant. Their wooden mask’s beak flashing in the firelight and calls up to the stars, "I sing the Storyteller’s song. On the darkest night, Sister One, we remember your guidance. We were once a people of resentment, locked in a cycle of rivalry and hate. And on our darkest night, the Seven Sisters revealed another path along the desert floor.”

The villagers’ voices join the harmony of the Seven Sister’s, their children dancing and giggling in the green grass. Shifting wood in the smoldering embers sends sparks weaving through the flames. The second Pterosaur-masked person stands from her carved seat and calls to the stars, “I sing the Witch's song. Tonight, we honor the Second Sister for guiding our ancestors on our original journey across the desert, away from rivalry to the abundance in Sola’s valley.”

The third person stands as the villagers seated on the ground grow even louder, their hands slapping the ground in front of them. The sweat on their bare faces' glisten against the glow of the raging fire in the center of the circle. The night animals in the shadows creep closer. “I sing the Protector’s song. On the New Moon, we give tribute to the Third Sister for protecting our ancestors as they walked in the darkness towards hope.”

A gust of wind joins the singing villagers, sending the fire into glittering embers that dance high into the sky. Flying insects cling to the leaves of the trees, the firelight luring towards the ceremony. The next person stands, their white fur-skin clad body shining gold against the firelight. “I sing the song of the Wander. We honor our Fourth Sister tonight for leading our ancestors on the journey that soothed their resentful souls with every step on the darkest night.”

The next person stands as the villager’s chanting increases, pounding their feet and hands. The white flowers dripping from the valley walls stretch towards the illuminated hilltop, as the masked voice calls, “I sing the Mother’s song. We are reborn as the children of Smok and Sola, The Dragon and the Witch, that protected our ancestors. Sister Five’s unconditional love taught our ancestors to cherish the light within.”

The wind gusts through their writhing, sweaty bodies, stoking the flames into a fresh frenzy. The villagers pound the ground harder, their chants rising above the treetops, mixing with the flames reaching for the dark sky. The next person stands, their wood mask flashing in the glare of the firelight. “I sing the song of Sister Six, the Weaver. Tonight, we honor her for teaching us to release our ancestor’s cycle of resentment and create new stories here in this valley where magic and nature are one.”

The villagers pound their feet and their hands on the green grass of the hill under the moonless sky. Their voices grow louder and the children laugh and play between the adults writhing bodies. A burst of wind slithers between them and stokes the coals of the fire even higher. An animal from the shadows howls.

The final Pterosaur stands and looks around the circle. The circle quiets as the masked person raises their fist. The fire lowers its dancing flames as darkness swallows them, only the stars shining in the New Moon sky. Finally, they call up to the stars, “I am the Seventh Sister and we are the Light.”

The villagers leap to their feet with fists raised, chanting repeatedly, “We are the Light!”

A gust of wind whips through the villagers and ignites the coals and sends flames high above the valley, above the desert, and into the dark sky towards the constellation of the Seven Sisters. Fire explodes into gold embers, and the villagers laugh joyously and begin to dance.

The Seven Sisters join the dancing, each slipping their mask from their sweaty red faces to reveal joyful smiles as they join the villagers. Bare-footed children chase each other between the dancing villagers. The white flowers burst fully into bloom, releasing their sweet perfume.

From the edge of the celebration, musical instruments join the joyful celebration. Whistling flutes braid with laughter as their arms and legs thrash together in the darkness of the New Moon. Their music swells and floods out over the quiet desert floor, drifting across the steps of their ancestors.

Deep in the silence of the universe, seven stars twinkle in response from the zodiac band.