In the heart of the School of Heroes, where the walls smelled like fresh-baked cookies and the floors creaked like a sleepy old bear, there was a little boy named Hunter. Hunter had hair the color of autumn leaves and a backpack that was always stuffed with treasures—glittery rocks, a half-eaten apple, and a toy dinosaur named Chompy.

One morning, as Hunter skipped down the hallway (his shoelaces flapping like tiny wings), he heard a sound. Sniffle-sniffle. It was soft, like a mouse trying to sneeze quietly. He followed the noise to the Hero Training Room, where the air smelled like rain on hot pavement. There, under a table covered in bouncy pillows, sat a tiny star.

The star was no bigger than Hunter’s hand, with points that wobbled like jelly. Its glow flickered weakly, like a candle in the wind. Sniffle. "I—I can’t shine," the star whispered. Its voice was as tiny as the crunch of a single cornflake. "What if I’m not bright enough? What if I fall?"

Hunter plopped down beside the star, his knees making a squelch sound on the squishy floor. He reached out and—whoops!—his elbow knocked over a cup of glitter. Poof! The sparkles rained down, sticking to the star’s wobbly points. The star gasped. "It tickles!"

"See?" Hunter grinned. "You’re already shining. You just needed a little help." He grabbed Chompy the dinosaur and held it up. "Chompy’s scared of the dark, too. But when I hug him, he feels brave. Want a hug?"

The star hesitated, then rolled into Hunter’s arms. It was warm, like a freshly boiled egg, and vibrated slightly, like a purring cat. Thump-thump. Hunter’s heart beat fast. "Ready?" he asked. The star nodded, its points wiggling.

Hunter stood up and—BAM!—his foot caught on his untied shoelace. He tripped, sending the star flying. Wheee! The star soared through the air, spinning like a top. For a second, Hunter’s stomach dropped like a rock in a well. But then—whoosh!—the star landed right on the ceiling, sticking there like a glowing sticker.

The star blinked. Then, slowly, it began to shine. Not a weak flicker, but a bright, steady glow, like a nightlight in a dark room. The Hero Training Room filled with golden light, and the walls hummed happily, smelling suddenly like cotton candy. Ta-da!

"I’m shining!" the star cheered, its voice now as clear as a bell. "I’m really shining!" It bounced on the ceiling, leaving little sparkly footprints. Hunter clapped, his hands making a sound like popcorn popping. "Told you you could do it!"

From that day on, whenever a hero-in-training felt wobbly or scared, Hunter would point to the ceiling. "See that star? It was afraid too. But now it’s the brightest one up there!" And the star would twinkle extra hard, as if to say, You can do it too.