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The Storyteller was at her breaking point. After yet another failed attempt to get her medication, she felt raw, overstimulated, and utterly spent. She hadn’t been able to relax all year, and even with the new year, her stress only mounted.
Knowing it was useless to hope someone in her own world would help, she decided it was time to reach beyond it. She needed someone who understood what it meant to feel alone and overwhelmed—but she also wanted someone who could be a true sister.
Taking a deep breath, she misted her laptop screen with Portal Potion and waited. Thirty unbearable seconds later, a figure appeared in her room.
A teenage girl, pretty and composed, stood before her. Her long chestnut hair was braided with bright red bird feathers, and her light brown eyes sparkled with curiosity. She smiled warmly, as if already sensing the Storyteller’s turmoil.
The Storyteller returned the smile. “Nice to see you, Ari. Welcome to my world.”
Ari gave a small laugh, glancing around at the strange surroundings. “Um, I know I was summoned for a reason…” she began, but the Storyteller placed a calming hand over hers.
“I know my place here is small, Ari,” the Storyteller said gently, “and this room isn’t much—but it’s all we have for privacy. I realize Airbenders aren’t fond of confined spaces, but I can’t change that.”
Ari blinked once, then took a slow, cleansing breath. “Do you mind if I play some music?” She pulled out her flute, fidgeting nervously.
“I’d love to hear you play,” the Storyteller said softly. “I need my own nerves soothed.”
Moments later, the cramped room felt as open as the skies under Ari’s music. The Storyteller’s tears came quietly, unbidden, as the tension in her body began to loosen.
When Ari lowered her flute, she asked, “Did that help, Storyteller?”
“Yes, it did. Thank you, Arianna.”
Ari frowned slightly at her full name. “Just call me Ari,” she said, crossing her arms.
The Storyteller chuckled. “Fair enough. Want some ice cream?”
“What’s that?” Ari asked, unfamiliar with the treat from another world.
“Trust me, you’ll love it.” Soon, they were sharing chocolate ice cream, a small joy amid the Storyteller’s heaviness.
Ari spoke enthusiastically about finding someone back home to make it, then listened as the Storyteller explained why she had been summoned. The master Airbender realized she was needed not for advice or action, but for empathy—the simple act of presence. Ari listened without interruption, showing the healing power of being truly seen.
She played her flute to soothe the Storyteller and comforted her as tears fell. “Do you feel better? My brother Aang faces something similar. People see his title but not his humanity. Sometimes just listening matters more than any ability.”
“Yes,” the Storyteller said, calmer and more at peace. “Thank you for showing empathy when I needed it most, Ari.”
“I am certainly my mother’s daughter,” Ari said thoughtfully. “She always emphasized listening to the heart and soul of others. That’s how genuine healing and peace begin.”
“Akanke was undoubtedly wise,” the Storyteller agreed. “Would you like to hear some music from my world before you depart?”
Ari paused. “What kind of music?”
“Trust me, you’ll appreciate it,” the Storyteller replied. “After hearing it once, I think you’ll be able to play it on your flute. The piece is called Thrive, by Casting Crowns. Its message—that we’re meant for more than merely existing, that we are meant to flourish—resonates deeply.”
Ari mastered the song on her first attempt, her talent and connection to music shining through. She offered the Storyteller a final embrace, then stepped back through the portal, playing Thrive on her flute as she returned home.