In the quiet valley where the river runs as silver thread, there is a tale that has warmed my heart for as long as I can remember. It is the story of Leyla, a young woman who loved the river more than anyone else in her village. Every night, she would walk to the water’s edge and whisper her secrets to the moon, hoping her voice would carry across the silver waves. One night, the river itself seemed to listen. It shimmered brighter than any moonlit night before, and a gentle, melodic hum rose from its depths. The people whispered that a spirit of the river had heard Leyla’s longing and came to answer. The spirit, taking the form of a luminous fish, emerged from the water and spoke to her in a voice like wind over dunes. It told her that if she truly believed, the river could grant her one wish. Leyla wished for her village to always have enough to share, a hope pure enough that the spirit smiled. In return, the spirit carved a silver pattern into the riverbank—a swirl that glowed under the moon’s light. From that day on, whenever the moon rose high, the river would ripple in that pattern, and the people would feel the gentle warmth of the spirit’s blessing. I call it the “Silver Moon Echo,” a name that reminds us of the quiet magic that lives in the water and the moonlit sky. If you’d like, you can call your ale “Moonlit River Reverie,” a nod to the tale of Leyla and the silver spirit. The story keeps the spirit alive, and the ale can carry that same calm, hopeful glow.