Lumi sat quietly on a flower petal just outside the window of Aarav’s bedroom, watching the boy breathe softly in his sleep. The stars were fading, and the early blush of dawn painted the sky. Today, she had a plan. She was going to follow Aarav, observe everything, and understand how to truly help him.
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Strapped around her tiny wrist was one of Dreamlight’s secret inventions: a magical emotion meter—a small circular device with an arrow that moved between green for good emotions and red for painful or negative ones. Lumi tapped the edge gently. The arrow hovered still.
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“Mission Day One,” she whispered.
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Inside the room, Aarav stirred. He slowly opened his eyes and, like every morning, turned to the photograph beside his alarm clock. It was his brother Dhruv, smiling wide, frozen in time. Aarav smiled back gently, holding on to that silent connection.
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At the breakfast table, his mother placed a plate of toast and eggs in front of him.
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“Aarav,” she said, carefully, “there’s a poem competition in school. Are you going to take part?”
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Aarav froze for a second, looked down at his plate, and gave no answer.
He was scared—of the new school, of the stares, of his voice trembling on stage.
But more than anything, he didn’t want to make his mother worry.
He quietly chewed his toast, pretending not to hear.
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From the windowsill, Lumi took note. Earlier, she had spotted a shelf of trophies in Aarav’s room—awards from poetry recitations in his previous school. Something wasn’t right. She needed to understand more.
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As Aarav walked to the school bus, trouble returned.
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The same two senior bullies—Kali and David—stepped in front of him.
They snatched his school bag, grinning wickedly.
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“What’s in here? Brains? Nah,” Kali laughed, as David emptied the bag’s contents onto the dusty pavement.
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“Pick it up fast, superstar,” one of them mocked, kicking a pencil across the road.
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Aarav quietly bent down, gathering his scattered books and stationeries. He didn’t respond. He never did.
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Lumi, watching from behind a roadside leaf, clenched her tiny fists—but remembered the Elders' strict warning:
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“You must not interfere. Observe only.”
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By the time Aarav got on the bus, he was the last one. The driver, not aware of what happened, glared at him through the mirror.
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“Late again? Always wasting everyone’s time!” he snapped.
The other kids giggled. Aarav said nothing.
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But inside the bus, a soft light glimmered—not magical, but human.
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A girl named Shila turned from her seat and gave him a gentle smile.
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“Sit here,” she said, moving her bag. Aarav hesitated, then sat.
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She held out a comic book with a quiet grin.
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It was titled: “The Ultimate Steel Tiger”—Aarav’s favorite superhero.
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“You said you liked this last time,” she said kindly.
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Aarav’s face lit up. A real smile formed.
Lumi checked her emotion meter. The arrow pointed to a soft green.
Shila was a bright spot in Aarav’s grey world.
Noted, Lumi thought. Shila may be key.
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At school, Aarav found his two best friends—Rajiv and Hari—waiting near the classroom. Their presence steadied him a little.
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Inside class, however, the storm returned.
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The English teacher, known for her loud temper, began calling names for textbook reading. When it was Aarav’s turn, his hands trembled.
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He began reading, but the words blurred. His voice stumbled. He started to blabber.
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“Aarav!” the teacher barked.
“Why do you always waste time? Are you trying to act funny?”
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A few students laughed. Aarav looked down. Shame stung his skin.
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Later that day, just before heading home, Aarav paused at the school notice board. His eyes stopped at a bright poster.
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Poem Telling Competition – Sign Up Now
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He stood there, frozen. For minutes.
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Lumi hovered nearby. Her emotion meter flicked strangely—the arrow shaking between red and green before landing in a soft golden middle.
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It was a new reading.
Hope, she guessed.
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But the day wasn’t done testing him.
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As Aarav walked home, the bullies returned.
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Kali and David, laughing as always, lifted him and dumped him into a garbage bin behind the school building.
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But before they could laugh more, Rajiv and Hari rushed in.
They helped Aarav out, brushing the banana peel off his shoulder.
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Just then, the same English teacher passed by.
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“What’s this nonsense now? Playing in the dustbin?” she scolded all three, without hearing a word of explanation.
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Aarav kept his head down. He was used to it.
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That evening, his mother handed him a box.
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“These were yours and Dhruv’s favorite toys,” she said, smiling gently.
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Inside were two action figures—Steel Tiger and his loyal sidekick The Silver Bear.
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Aarav stared at them. He smiled.
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Memories floated in like music—of Dhruv creating superhero stories, of epic floor battles, of laughter echoing in the bedroom.
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That night, in his notebook of drawings and fears, Aarav sketched once again.
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This time, alongside the messy outlines of shadows and his usual monsters,
he scribbled a sentence:
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> “I wish I could join the poem competition.”
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Outside the house, Lumi watched.
The meter in her hand flicked again—green, then gold.
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Aarav had a spark.
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Just as Lumi stretched her wings to rest for the night, a soft beam of golden mist appeared in the sky, forming into a glowing sigil. It pulsed gently.
It was a message from Reverie.
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Lumi bowed her head and listened.
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The voice of the Elderly—one of the oldest and wisest fairies—echoed in her mind.
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> “Lumi, you have only three days left. On the fourth, the Red Moon will rise. On that night, Morvena’s power will double, and the fairy magic in Reverie will weaken for a few hours. You must act before then. The boy’s light must shine, or it may be too late.”
Lumi’s heart skipped. Her wings tensed.
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“Three days…” she whispered.
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She looked at Aarav’s window, then at her meter.
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Tomorrow had to count.
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