Thief of Motherfuckin Hearts!
It is not enough to wield the power of the Dreaming Moon here, to Dance the Dreamlit path, but you are not only the disciple of one moon. To wield their power separately is not enough.
It is the artist's duty to question. The trickster's role to make fools of the mighty. Hold the mirror to history and tradition, and reveal their absurdities.(Creation, Expression, Truth)
The Hidden Moon was the desire for knowledge, and through it, power. It was knowing all of the things that could be threatening and how to counter each and every one. It was looking back on her past and not letting her bile overwhelm her when she examined those memories to see how they had shaped her and how that related to material reality.
"C'mon now, gramps is here, he'd give us some help I bet. Can you imagine it, can you imagine this whole crazy scheme falling to bits with us out of the way, with us pushing it that way? The chaos that'd bring. Everyone building up this big moment and then…. It all falls to dust. The fists and blades come out. The little broken doll she's stringing along falling to bits, and that crazy monster self destructing. Wouldn't that be a scene, a whole new generation of nightmares and dashed hopes."
At last, one hundred years after the day she had first sat down, something changed. The dust of a century rained down as the woman's head turned down to look upon the blank pages of her book. Above, the stars jeered and mocked her, certain that their victory had at last come, and yet as the sharp eyed woman's withered arm creaked and put qill to paper at last, she spoke. Puffs of dust and dirt falling from her lips with each word.
"Be silent, O charlatans, thou mocking vermin. I have had enough of thy venom, and so have we all."
The words echoed through the night, and beyond the sky and for just a moment, some among the stars trembled. Yet most were merely enraged. "Thou dare," they hissed, and the few hairs still clinging to the sharp eyed woman's scalp withered and crumbled to dust. "When thy bones barely cling to their neighbors and thy organs fail, held together only by moonlight and will. Thou think to speak such to the pure ones, thy betters?"
"I am the daughter of your conquerors," the sharp eyes woman said, her voice as a dry fall wind. Her quill began to scratch the page, leaving trails of moonlight in the shape of letters ever before seen by mortal eyes. "And I name you cowards all."
"We laid thy parents low," hissed the stars. "Speak not of conquerors, little doll of mud."
"I have gazed upon thy light for one hundred years, and learned thy tongue in the same, O feeble vermin, and know the lie of thy words. The blood of warriors boils in fen and ocean deep; it churns deep in Mother's veins, and clings to Father's heights. Thou art laggards and cowards all, as sneaking vermin and scavenger birds. Thou feared Mother, and thou feared Father, and thou fear their children most of all. Know this, of malicious ones. Thou art counted, and thou art named."
The woman's quill completed the first character, and the world shook as the great northern star, brightest of the stellar host howled. The stars light dimmed and softened, and a drifting thread of silver filtered down from the sky to coil around the sharp eyed woman. "To the moon do I offer thy names and thy light," the woman said, a hundred years and a lifetime of spite in her words. "Peer through the curtains as thou wilt, but never again shall thy malice reach any but the highest of peaks. To the moon I offer thy light, and thy hunger. Though the dark might remain full of terrors, never again will the night sky bring fear of its own."
With each character that was written, a star dimmed and the world shook. With each dimmed star, the woman's flesh was restored. At last, when the last star dimmed, the woman stood, and she was cloaked in glittering starlight. No more withered bones with a skull like visage, the sharp eyed woman looked upon the stars with eyes of moonlight, as an elder hale and hearty. Clothed in the glittering finery of the subdued night sky, she nodded in satisfaction and her book snapped shut, shaking the world one final time. Above, the stars no longer winked and mocked, but hung still, silent and unperturbed.
"I am ready O eldest. These bones are wary, and this life has passed. Might I be with thee, and keep an eye upon these miscreants forevermore?"
There was no answer in the tongues of men, only a soft sigh as the sharp eyed woman dissolved into a beam of moonlight and left the world forever. And above, the pale light of the moon grew bright with reflected starlight.
For the first time, the moon turned her bright face from the earth, and the stars quailed.
For a write-in that will probably be ignored
[X][Write-In] Darkness and secrets, let the black moon guard you. You have uncovered your foe's name and know their nature. Stand your ground and let their mysteries wash over you.
At the risk of stabbing ourselves in the heart for power, I see this as reenacting the Hidden Moon's origin story. We trust in the Hidden Moon to protect us against an overwhelming threat as we seek to understand them more fully. This also recalls him demanding that we assert an actual argument.
The downside is that the Hidden Moon doesn't come out unscathed at the end of their story. They won but are severely injured in the process. We probably will suffer some manner of significant injury