Luma awoke with a fluttery feeling deep in his belly, small and persistent, refusing to fade. He stared down at his chest, watching his fire morph into mist that drifted and curled like ghostly clouds. Fear prickled his scales, heavy and unfamiliar. "Oh no," he whispered, cocooning himself with his wings, watching the mist thicken as his heart thudded faster with every worry.
Iris sits with patient grace, lowering her head until she and Luma are eye to eye. "I see your fire," she says softly, "And I see fear." Tears well in Luma's eyes as he confesses his discomfort, unsure if something is wrong with him. Iris gently explains how feelings show on the outside, just like his fire does, and how showing them helps others understand what's happening inside.
"Breathe in slowly through your nose, like you’re smelling warm cocoa." Luma follows, his belly rising gently. "Now breathe out through your mouth, like you’re fogging a mirror." They breathe together, slow and steady, and the mist begins to thin, drifting instead of swirling. "See? When we slow our breathing, fear knows we’re safe." The fire remains, pale and soft, but it’s no longer frightening.
"I HATE this!" Luma shouts, his claws digging into the earth. The red fire leaps higher, echoing his anger. Iris lands beside him, her purple glow calm and steady. "That’s anger," she explains, teaching Luma how to clench his claws tight like holding a rock, then let go, giving his energy somewhere safe to go. The red fire cools, shifting from sharp sparks to warm embers.
Luma lands, his chest aching—not in anger or fear, but with sadness as the day ends. Iris sits beside him, her purple fire glowing warmly. "That feeling is sadness," she explains gently, showing Luma how sadness comes when something good ends. She encourages him to hold his heart and breathe, letting the blue fire glow warmer, like evening light on calm water.
Luma watches others, worry flickering inside him that he might never improve. Iris sits beside him, explaining that green fire shows he cares about growing and learning. Together, they name the feeling aloud—"I feel worried." "I feel jealous."—and the green fire steadies, glowing softly like new leaves under sunlight.
"I did it!" Luma laughs, pride shining in his eyes. Iris laughs too, her purple fire swirling with golden joy. "That’s joy," she says, stretching her wings wide. Together, they stretch, breathe, and let joy fill the air with golden light.
Luma speaks softly, admitting that his feelings still come, but now he understands them better. Iris's fire glows warm and steady, assuring him that feelings are messengers, showing what matters and when to rest. Luma’s silver fire shimmers, not one color but many, and for the first time, he lets his feelings come without resistance, feeling safe and whole beneath the stars.
