In the cobbled town of Moonbridge, a tailor named Eliot stitched clothes from cloth no one else could see. His shop was always empty—until midnight.
By moonlight, creatures made of stardust and shadow lined up outside his door: skyfish needing cloaks of cloud, treefolk wanting bark-smooth tunics, and even the wind itself, asking for a new pair of breezy trousers.
Eliot worked silently, his silver needle humming lullabies as it darted. His only friend was a curious girl named Mira who peeked in one night and saw the strange customers.
She offered to help, and Eliot smiled for the first time in years. Together, they sewed magic into fabric—threads of starlight, buttons made from wishes, hems that whispered dreams.
When Eliot grew too old to sew, he passed his enchanted scissors to Mira. And every midnight, the creatures still came—drawn by the glow from the little tailor shop and the promise of clothing stitched with kindness and moonlight.
