chapter THREE
The Firefly Test
Nic wasn’t the only one
who remembered things.
Sometimes—
on very special nights
when the air was just right
and the moon was humming
like a lullaby—
the fireflies came.
They weren’t
ordinary fireflies.
They were test givers.
They didn’t glow
for just anyone.
Nope.
They glowed only
for kids
who still knew
the magic was real.
They could sniff out
a non-believer
from five miles away.
And when they did?
They zipped right past them—
poof!—
like, “no glow for you, sir.”
But when they saw Nic?
Oh boy.
They hovered.
They circled.
They blinked in patterns
like ancient Morse code
from a galaxy long gone.
Clifford would bark thrice.
That meant:
“Here comes the Firefly Test.”
And Nic would stand
very still.
Because she knew
what to do.
The Firefly Test
had 3 simple rules:
Stay still
(no grabbing)
Stay open
(no doubting)
Say your truth
out loud
So she’d close her eyes,
hold her wand tight,
and whisper into
the firefly-lit night:
“I believe in magic.
I believe in memory.
I believe in me.”
And then…
They’d glow.
All of them.
Like gold.
Like truth.
Like a YES.
And in that moment,
Nic would feel something
wrap around her.
Like a hug from the sky.
Like the wind saying: