In the kingdom of Lumeria, every child was born with a glow.
Some glowed faintly, like candle flames trembling in the wind. Others shone so brightly they could light entire halls and paint the walls with living color. The glow was not merely light—it was proof of magic, identity, and worth. From the moment children could walk, parents watched eagerly for the first flicker beneath their skin. It meant safety. It meant belonging. It meant that the world had chosen you.
Elara stood on the narrow balcony of her attic room, gripping the cold iron railing until her fingers ached. The metal bit into her skin, grounding her in a way magic never had. Wind brushed her dark hair across her face, carrying the distant hum of the city below—laughter, music, and the gentle crackle of floating lanterns rising into the evening sky.
"Sixteen tomorrow," she whispered to herself, her breath fogging slightly in the cool air. "Sixteen… and still nothing."
Her reflection stared back at her from the glass window behind the balcony door. No glow shimmered beneath her skin. No soft halo traced her silhouette. Just an ordinary girl in a kingdom where ordinary meant forgotten.
The streets below shimmered with drifting magic dust. Children laughed as they chased glowing butterflies that fluttered like living jewels. Merchants displayed enchanted fabrics that shifted colors with every movement. Couples walked hand in hand, their combined light softly pulsing in warm harmony. Everywhere Elara looked, the world sparkled—alive with power she could not touch.
She pressed her palm to her chest, right over her heart.
"Please," she begged quietly, her voice barely louder than the wind. "Just a spark. Even a tiny one. I don't need to be special. I just don't want to be invisible."
Silence answered her.
No warmth bloomed beneath her skin. No shimmer rose to greet the Moon.
A familiar ache settled deep inside her ribs, heavy and suffocating, as if her heart itself carried the weight of disappointment.
Behind her, the wooden door creaked open.
Her foster mother, Mira, stepped inside carrying folded blankets. Her glow was gentle and amber-colored, warm like sunset, filling the room with soft light.
"Still staring at the sky?" Mira asked softly.
Elara forced a weak smile. "I thought maybe if I looked hard enough, the Moon would notice me."
Mira approached and draped the blanket around Elara's shoulders. "The Moon doesn't decide your worth, child."
Elara's voice trembled. "But everyone else thinks it does. Tomorrow they'll look at me and see… nothing."
Mira hesitated, then cupped Elara's face with warm hands. "I see courage. I see kindness. I see a heart too big for this cruel world."
Tears welled up in Elara's eyes. "What if that's not enough?"
Mira pulled her into a tight hug. "Then we will make it enough. Together."
That night, Elara lay awake listening to the wind howl through the rooftops, clutching the blanket close to her chest.
Fear curled beside her like a silent companion.
And above, the Moon slowly climbed higher, pale and watching… waiting.