The storm arrived without warning, like a roar that shook the coast and snuffed out the stars. Twinkle, a small Magikito who lived on the cliff beside the lighthouse, was sleeping soundly in his moss bed inside a cave. But a thunderous crash woke him. He opened his eyes just in time to see lightning strike the lighthouse roof.
— Oh no! — he muttered, rubbing his eyes as he jumped to his feet.
He rushed to the cave entrance, feeling the wind tugging at his feathered hat and the rain soaking through his vest. From the cliff’s edge, he gazed at the lighthouse. It was dark. Something was terribly wrong. Suddenly, on the horizon, he spotted a small shadow: a sailboat struggling to stay afloat among the towering waves.
— That ship needs the light! — he shouted, and without hesitation, raced toward the lighthouse.
The stairs were slippery beneath his wet feet, but Twinkle bounded up two at a time, panting. When he reached the top, the disaster was clear: the lighthouse glass lay in shards and the storm had extinguished the flame. Twinkle tried to relight it, but the wind whipped through every gap. There was no way.
He looked back at the sea. The waves threatened to swallow the sailboat, which spun dangerously, desperately searching for the coast. Lightning briefly illuminated the scene, making each second feel endless. With no time to lose, Twinkle decided he’d have to improvise.
He climbed onto the lighthouse rim, letting the wind buffet him. He rubbed his hands together until sparks began to emerge, tiny at first, but growing ever brighter. He cast them into the sky, and with a sound like tinkling bells, they multiplied in the air, forming a column of light that pierced through the fog. The sparks didn’t just glow—they created a trail that seemed to mark the way to safe harbor.
On the ship, the captain and crew were on the verge of panic. Each wave seemed like it would be the last. But then, someone shouted:
— Look! There, in the sky!
Everyone saw the path of light stretching through the storm. The captain didn’t think twice and spun the wheel, following the lights. The waves pounded fiercely, but the sparks remained steady, as if someone were tending to every detail. The crew rowed with all their might while the ship slowly advanced.
Meanwhile, Twinkle kept working. His hands ached, but he didn’t stop. He rubbed and rubbed, casting more sparks whenever the ship seemed to falter. His heart pounded as he watched the sailboat draw closer to port.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the ship reached calmer waters. The crew dropped anchor and some fell to their knees, grateful to be safe. From the harbor, the captain looked toward the lighthouse. He could have sworn there was a small figure at the top, surrounded by golden lights. But when he blinked, nothing was there.
Back in his cave, Twinkle collapsed onto his moss bed. His hands still glowed faintly and a weary smile crossed his face. In the distance, the echo of the waves seemed gentler, as if the sea itself was thanking him for his effort. It had been a long night, but it was worth it.
