Ember tugged her father's sleeve and pointed at the row of lamps. "Daddy, light ALL of them."
He flicked every switch. The hum dropped. The lamps died, and the whole cottage went pitch black.
Ember dived under her blanket, knees tight to her chin. The old clock ticked loud in the dark. TICK. TICK. TICK.
Her fingers felt for the nightlight cord and bumped a cup off the shelf. It CLINKED. The sound bounced around the walls.
Ember crawled to the window and pressed her cold, wet nose flat against the glass. Outside, the moon hung pale above the trees.
Then she saw them. Tiny golden dots, slow and round, drifting in through the gap in the half-drawn curtain. Dozens. Then more.
Ember yanked the curtain wide open. The fireflies swirled above her bed, slow as soap bubbles. The dark room glowed gold.
"The dark is a gentle friend," she whispered. Her breath fogged the cold glass. The fireflies drifted on.
