Witch moon TD

A crooked hut. A clearing full of glowing moonflowers. Fifteen nights, and something in the trees is watching how bright you let it get.

Greed calls the night. Moonflower beds are your whole economy — they bloom after dark and drip silver essence you spend on fences, lanterns, cat totems and bubbling cauldron mortars. But every bloom brightens the clearing, and the moon counts them. A dim little garden pulls a thin, manageable wave. A radiant one pulls everything the forest has. The attraction meter on your HUD tells you exactly how greedy you are being, so every bed you plant is a decision you make with your eyes open.

Six creatures come out of three dark gaps in the treeline, and each one wants something different. Fluttering moon moths ignore your fences entirely and land on the brightest bed to eat it flower by flower. Slime snails crawl dead-straight and chew through planks. Hooded gnome thieves sprint in, grab one bloom, and bolt for the trees. Owl shades circle high and dive to stun your turrets. Every third night a thorn-covered boar paws the ground and charges. Every fifth night the moon is full, your beds pay double, and the Horned Moon Stag walks slowly toward your hut.

Between nights you mend what broke, plant what you dare, and take one of three blessings. Hand-painted in ink-outlined charcoal, umber and dark teal, with long moon shadows and fog low on the ground.