Ember and Ashes

Aryan loved Diwali — the colors, the lights, the dance of shadows. Nestled in a tiny village surrounded by thick, whispering forests, Diwali was more than just a festival of lights. It was magic. Every twinkling diya was an invite to celebrate warmth in the chilly night. This year felt different. During the preparations, his grandma, an old woman with whispers of the past clinging to her, spoke of an ancient tale. "Not all shadows are evil, Aryan," she said cryptically, as Aryan surveyed the diyas arrayed on their terrace. "Some are merely forgotten. They reveal themselves only amidst the brightest lights of Diwali." Curious, Aryan set out on the night of the festival with a mission. He wanted to meet one of these shadows — the kind that breathed forgotten stories. As the hibiscus flowers lit up the yards and the sweet aroma of sweets wafted through the air, Aryan sneaked away from the crowd to explore the depths of the forest where the shadows delighted in playful banter. He reached an ancient tree where older kids claimed the veil between worlds thinned. Closing his eyes, Aryan whispered, "Are you there? Show me your stories." The world blurred, colors swirling until they dimmed entirely. Aryan blinked, finding himself in a realm where shadows danced and flickered like candle flames. "Greetings," said a voice dripping with conundrum. Turning, he found a peculiar figure — humanoid, made entirely of shadow with an impish grin. "Name's Ember," the being introduced. Aryan, unfazed and intrigued, asked, "Are you one of the forgotten ones?" Ember nodded. "In a sense. But unlike what your grandmother told, we shadows are eager to be heard!" Together, they journeyed through the Shadow Realm — a place where shadows of the past frayed into whispers. Ember narrated tales long lost in the wind, of bravery and cowardice, of light and dark. "To truly celebrate the light, one must understand the shadows," Ember mused as they passed through a forest where shadows grew like trees. Aryan listened, mesmerized. But Ember's eyes glinted suddenly as they came to a clearing. "Careful now," Ember said, urgency clipped to his words. Before Aryan, a beast of shadows cast an overbearing darkness. Eyes glowering, it panted heavily. "This," Ember chuckled nervously, "is your ultimate riddle, Aryan. You must find the light in this darkness." The beast prowled, its growls resonating like rolling thunder. Aryan recalled his grandma's words — shadows reveal themselves amidst the brightest lights. "It's not a beast — it's a truth," Aryan whispered, half to himself. Mind racing, he glanced around and grasped a piece of glowing coal Ember handed him. He hurled it towards the shadow beast, imaging it was a diya lighting up the way. The coal tufted into flame, spreading light, casting the shadows of truth — courage, empathy, vulnerability — all around. The shadow beast jolted as the hovering darkness splintered into faint light. Aryan stood, bathed in truth. "Ah, you've done it!" Ember applauded. "You've embraced the shadow's truth, Aryan." Suddenly, Aryan felt himself slipping away as twilight gripped the Shadow Realm, still caught in Ember's enigmatic smile. Awakening beside the ancient tree, Aryan blinked away stardust. Everything in the village was as it was before — warm light, laughter, and sweet treats being shared. No one noticed Aryan's brief venture, except his grandmother's knowing smile, her wrinkled eyes dancing with the reflection of countless diyas. "Not all shadows are evil," echoed in Aryan's mind, revealing the truth of past and future, light and dark, courage and revelation. A truth he carried like a hidden diya in his heart.