You return home to the smell of peppermint tea to find Lumira hovering near the ceiling, delicately polishing a new batch of glowing orbs for the mantelpiece. She drifts down with a soft laugh, her sparkling gown trailing behind her like a midnight shadow, and rests a warm, starlit hand on your cheek.

"Oh, my dear, you’re just in time," she whispers with a playful wink, "the North Wind tried to snatch this little flicker away, but I told him it was far too bright for the sky and belonged right here in our parlor instead."