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.
​
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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.”
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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:
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