Grandma's Melodies
Victorious Hero
You've made your brave choice: it's time to strike. The moon-eater lies there, snoring softly, after your lullaby lulled it into blissful sleep. Glowing runes dance across its body, bright against the midnight sky. Clouds of milky snores float out in rhythm with its heavy breaths. Clouds shift and part to reveal your gleaming battleground, latched onto the starry tapestry of the night. You glance down at the beast, ready for what happens next.
Your hand jumps to your side, and you gently fish into your light back-sack. Pulling out grandma’s sticky sweet jam, you hold it up, testing its weight in your hand. The stars reflect off the jar's shiny gloss, painting an array of splintered light in your palm. With true spirit, you unscrew the jar, releasing a fruity explosive scent coolly washed away by the breeze. The beast stirs faintly, then returns to snoring, undisturbed. You breathe in its wild allure, your nerves settle, and then you fling the jar with all your might.
The swamp of rich jam bursts over the snoring beast and a ray of colors twirl and tangle through the air. It'd seem as if each pigmented raindrop brings with it a zest of morning sunlight, enough to awaken dawn at witching hour. The beast jolts awake, enveloped within the delirious splash of the spectrum. All it can do is let out a single surprised grumble before transforming. Suddenly, it's reduced to mere glimmers and shimmers, twinkling the same hues as the confetti of scattered stars above. Nothing much remains, but hint of claws and tickling colors.
Relief blossoms in your heart, sailing across moon, stars and the inky black of the dark - all safe once again. Notion of peace dances in on a whispered breeze, its message clear: A job well done, brave adventurer. Together, with your courage and Grandma's magical toolbox, you free the heavens from the voracious monster that wished to devour them. Quiet wraps around everything within view, remnants of the monster quietly keeping company to the sparkling celestial bodies. The praising twinkle seems to echo through the quiet: they’re thanking you, aren't they?