A Shared Ember

The air on the staircase grew cooler, thick with the scent of dust and something Elina couldn't quite name – like old stories that had been read too many times. Lumina shivered, their wispy form seeming to shrink further into the dim glow of the swirling colors. Elina watched, her heart aching. Lumina was like a moth that had flown too close to a flame, beautiful but scorched. She remembered the bright, boisterous laughter of her friends playing tag in the sun-drenched meadow back home, the comforting weight of Elder Rowan’s hand on her shoulder, the way the whole community hummed with a shared, gentle energy. That energy, that warmth, felt like a treasure, something precious to be protected and shared.

“It’s… it’s so sad down here,” Lumina whispered, their voice barely a breath. “All these colors, but none of them feel right. They’re like tears that never fall.”

Elina knelt beside the little creature, her own bright dress a stark contrast to the muted, sorrowful hues that danced around them. “I know,” she said softly, her voice a gentle melody in the echoing space. “But remember the sunshine, Lumina? Remember how it feels to be warm all over?”