Submission (#520) Approved

“Moonlight Meets Mayhem”
Word Count Goal: 800+ | Prompt Theme: Meeting your idol under strobe lights, stars, and just enough chaos.

The air hit differently in Third Haven that night—warmer, heavier, like someone had bottled moonlight and cigarette smoke and dumped it across the skyline.

Lumiora stepped out from the tram tunnel, her hooves clicking gently against the stone as the city opened before her like a blooming dusk flower. Her bioluminescence had already started to respond to the shift—blue tendrils of light flowing along her flanks, the flowers in her fur beginning to pulse with faint, dreamy rhythms. She always glowed at night, but here? The whole layer seemed to dare her to shine brighter.

Tanzan walked beside her, calm as ever, crystal-etched bag slung across one shoulder. He’d insisted she come tonight. Said it was “a minor celebration for a major moonchild.” And now here she was—definitely overdressed, slightly glowing, and doing her best not to trip over the damn thrill in her chest.

The concert venue was carved into an old canyon wall, glowing signage buzzing with imperfect letters: ⟡ RYZE ABOVE — ONE NIGHT ONLY ⟡

“I think I’m going to melt,” Lumiora whispered, brushing a glowing bloom off her shoulder. “Or explode. Or both.”

Tanzan just hummed, tapping a claw against his chin. “That’d be hard to clean up. At least wait ‘til you meet him.”

She swatted at him with her tail, just as two figures appeared from the side gate near the merch booth, waving wildly.

“Kairos is already yelling,” Tanzan muttered.

Sure enough, Kairos came bounding over, grin wild and one earring swinging lopsided. “There she is! Birthday deity! Literal flower goddess!” He skidded to a halt, gave her a once-over, and raised a brow. “...Okay, I take it back. You’re glowing like you own this place.”

Behind him, Fynch leaned lazily against a railing, holding a neon-blue drink in one claw and waving with the other. They wore a band shirt they’d clearly torn up themselves, and their fur was dyed with streaks of silver paint that caught the low lights like a mirror.

“Happy star-day, Moonbeam,” Fynch purred, tipping their glass. “You look like a dream I had once.”

Lumiora smiled, still adjusting to how loose her night form made her feel. Braver. Bolder. “And you look like the result of too much sugar and not enough sleep.”

“Accurate,” they replied, sipping.

As the four of them moved toward the venue gates, Tanzan suddenly stopped and turned to her. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a sleek black VIP pass, its lanyard strung with little crystalline beads faintly shimmered with carved moon phases.

He handed it to her with a quiet smile. The front row was too dull. This is for after the show.”

She stared at it. MOON 1/1. Her ears twitched. “No way.”

“Yes way,” Kairos chimed. “He’s gonna meet you and either write a song about you… or propose.”

“Or run away screaming,” Fynch offered.

“Or all three,” Tanzan added, deadpan.

Lumiora clutched the pass. “I’m going to ascend or combust or kiss someone by accident.”

“Good,” Kairos said. “Welcome to Third Haven, sweetheart.”

And as the gates opened, the bass from inside hit them like a thunderclap. Lights flared. The crowd roared. Lumiora stepped forward—glowing, laughing, and more alive than she had felt in a long time.

The venue wasn’t massive, but it felt infinite—stone archways ringed the open pit where the crowd pressed in, and bursts of colored firecrackers bloomed overhead like defiant stars. Layer 3 didn’t do subtle. It screamed and shimmered and dared you to keep up.

Lumiora had never seen so many Tatsukoi packed together in one place—tails tangled, wings flicking, voices rising in messy, buzzing unison. The lights alone were dizzying—laser beams skimming the crowd's edges, illuminating wild graffiti murals and abstract flame sculptures along the back wall.

And in the center, framed by raw energy and moonmetal scaffolding… was Ryze.

He stepped onto the stage like he owned every crack in the stone beneath him. Tall, scruffed up in all the right ways, with rings glinting on his claws and a smirk that said I’ve been through hell, and I made it a concert. The second he strummed the first chord, the crowd lost its mind.

The sound hit Lumiora like a tidal wave– no, like heat lightning. Her chest thrummed with the beat, her fur practically singing with energy. Her flowers bloomed wide, radiant blues and silvers cascading along her spine and limbs. She didn’t even try to hide it.

Fynch whooped beside her, half-spilled drink in hand. “This is so much better than the sound crystals!”

Kairos shouted something completely inappropriate that got drowned out by a bass drop.

The next song started. And oh. It was that song.

A lesser-known track. The one she’d stumbled across in the darkest stretch of a winter night, curled under her moss-laced blankets, burned out from healing one too many injured souls, feeling like a ghost in her own life. The words tasted like survival.

“You ever think he sings like he’s trying to rewrite his past?” Kairos leaned toward her, voice surprisingly serious in her ear.

“Or maybe like he’s trying to save someone else’s,” Fynch added from the other side, unusually still.

Lumiora didn’t answer right away. Her eyes were locked on Ryze, who was ripping into a guitar solo like it owed him money, his voice strained but sincere, every lyric landing like an open wound stitched with fire.

Finally, she whispered, “He already did.”

And for the briefest moment, under the laser light and the crowd’s roar and the steady push-pull of the music, Lumiora felt weightless. And when Ryze locked eyes with the front row, just for a second, she swore his gaze paused on her. Just long enough to spark something she couldn’t name.

The concert ended in a crash of final chords and fading screams. Ryze had dropped his pick on the stage floor like a mic and bowed low, sweat matting his fur and sparks still echoing through the stone. The crowd buzzed with aftershocks, dispersing in glowing clusters and scattered laughter.

But Lumiora wasn’t moving.

She stood at the edge of it all, the VIP pass pressed to her chest like it was the only thing keeping her anchored. Her fur was still pulsing with light, the blue blooms along her arms and collarbone bright and open, catching the dim venue glow like they’d been painted on with stardust.

Tanzan gently nudged her forward. “Go. He’s waiting.”

She turned to look at him, wide-eyed. “What do I even say?”

Fynch grinned. “Tell him you’re his muse. Or ask him about cryptids. Either works.”

Kairos snorted. “Or just trip over something. That's what I’d do.”

She gave a breathy laugh, nerves starting to crack through her adrenaline haze. But then she stepped through the security gate alone.

The hallway backstage was quieter, calmer. Dim amber lighting lined the walls, flickering softly as she walked. Posters from past gigs. Stickers. Setlists scrawled in black ink and taped crookedly. The concert beat still rang in her ears, but everything else was still here.

And then she saw him. Towel slung around his neck, shirt clinging to his ribs, eyes half-lidded and tired but unmistakably alive. He leaned against the back wall with a bottle in one hand, tail lazily flicking across the floor.

He looked up the moment she entered. His eyes didn’t widen. His jaw didn’t drop. He just stared, like he wasn’t entirely sure if she was real or something conjured from the smoke and noise he’d just left behind. “...Damn,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “You glow?”

Lumiora blinked. Her tongue was dry. Her magic, buzzing. “Only when it’s worth it.” She didn’t even recognize her voice—it was silk with a hint of spark, her night-form confidence blooming under his gaze.

Ryze huffed a laugh, setting the bottle down. “That’s a hell of a line. You write lyrics?”

She stepped closer, her eyes catching every edge of him in the light. “Not really. I just listen. A lot.”

“Yeah?” He tipped his head, the sharp curve of his horn catching the dim light. “To me?”

She nodded slowly. “Your music saved me once.”

He blinked. Something in his face shifted—something unguarded. “You and a couple thousand others,” he said, sounding casual but failing slightly. “Guess I’m doing something right.”

“You didn’t just write for people like you,” she said, voice steady now. “You wrote for people like me. Quiet. Fading. Trying to feel like we weren’t just… background noise.”

The silence that followed felt charged.

Ryze stepped forward, claws tapping gently against the stone floor. He looked at her—not through her, not around her—but at her, and all her starlit wildness. “You don’t look like background noise to me,” he said.

She flushed, her glow deepening like a soft tidal wave. And then—because she couldn’t help it—she pulled something from her satchel. A smooth, dark stone shaped like a teardrop, etched with a single glowing bloom. A gift she’d carved and carried, just in case she ever did meet him.

“For you,” she said, holding it out. “From one freak to another.”

Ryze stared at it for a beat before taking it with quiet hands. “I’m gonna write a song with this in my pocket,” he murmured. “And it’s gonna piss off all the right people.”

Then, with a grin sharper than the chords he played, he reached into his bag, pulled out a deep violet guitar pick—custom carved with tiny silver stars—and slipped it into her palm.
“Fair trade.”

The second Lumiora stepped back through the gated hallway and into the open night, the air hit her like a kiss of reality—and neon fog. Her magic had settled slightly, but she was still glowing just enough to draw a few glances as she weaved through the last few lingering fans and into the alley where her crew waited.

Tanzan leaned casually against the venue wall, arms crossed and looking far too smug for someone who hadn't even watched the meeting. His usual calm expression had the slightest twitch of a grin threatening to break through.

Kairos spotted her first and immediately leapt onto the back of a bench. “THE STAR RETURNS! WAS HE SWEATY?! WAS IT SPICY?!”

Fynch was sprawled on the railing beside him, sipping something that wasn’t water. “On a scale of one to ‘you’re writing his name in flower petals,’ how emotionally devastated are we?”

Lumiora raised an eyebrow, still a little dazed but smiling. “Somewhere between ‘gonna cry in a beautiful meadow later’ and ‘I may have flirted without realizing it.’”

Tanzan raised a single brow. “That’s your night form, Lumiora. Realizing is optional.”

They laughed—real, loose laughter that only comes after something unforgettable. The kind you don’t plan. The kind you just bloom into. Kairos jumped off the bench and started walking backwards down the street. “C’mon, Stardust, spill the details. Did he propose? Are you to join the band? Offer you his jacket?”

“He gave me a guitar pick.”

Fynch’s drink sloshed. “That’s basically a promise ring.”

Lumiora tucked the pick into the hidden pocket of her satchel with care. “I gave him something too. A bloomstone. Hand-etched.”

Tanzan nodded slowly. “Good trade. He gives you music. You give him magic. Keeps the balance.” The four walked through the glowing city streets, tails swaying and eyes adjusting to the softer parts of the night. The neon flickered above them, casting fractured shadows that danced between alley cracks and stairways.

Somewhere behind them, a sound crystal replayed one of Ryze’s older tracks—low and hazy. “I don’t shine for everyone,” the recording hummed. “But the right ones know where to look.”
Lumiora didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

Because right now, she was surrounded by her people. Her friends. Her chaos. Her balance. And tucked inside her satchel was proof that she’d been seen—not as a quiet healer or a mystical whisper in the trees…

But as a light all her own.

Reward	Amount
Gold	10
Summer Daze Music Festival - Design and MYO Raffles (Raffle Ticket)	1