Midnight was affected too. ςεψ and βυγς had long since risen, accompanied by a scattering of distant stars. Moonlight touched her, yet she no longer felt the Mother Moon’s surge of energy. The absence disturbed her greatly. Yves felt it through their bond, the wrongness.
That was it, he realised.
That was what made her hesitate.
Yves was accustomed to Rothar depletion. He hated it, naturally, but he knew it. Midnight had always had the Mother Moon.
“We cannot endure this for long,” he said. He would not insult her pride by asking whether she wanted to stay behind and wait for him here. “But we will be able to rest, once we reach the lighthouse.”
Midnight’s muscles loosened by degrees, and the bristled violence along her spine settled back into controlled alertness. She blinked once, slow and deliberate; acknowledgment, trust, and resolve.
Yves nodded and moved forward.
She fell into place at his side.
Together, they began the ascent of 
.
From Pond to Pen
Good day Traveller,
you have reached the end of the first chapter. Thank you for reading.
I have what people like to call aphantasia, which means I rather lack visual imagination. For the longest time, I did not know that others can mentally visualise what they read. Even more bewildering and enviable is the fact that images automatically form in the minds of others as they read. This is something that does not happen for me, and I often wonder how others experience stories when reading about artefacts, magic, and battles. How wonderful it must be, to see and shape a story like this!
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