Back in the pigeon coop, Stella stared at the bronze lamp in her hands. The old man's final words echoed in her mind.
"This light begins with sincerity and is manifested through action."
Sincerity... Action...
Images from the night flashed through her mind: the little girl shivering in the storm, the anxious man waiting for her delivery, the old woman she'd helped cross a flooded street... When she had helped them, she'd felt a pure, selfless kindness, a simple wish for them to be okay.
An idea, like a bolt of lightning, struck her.
Could it be?
She sat up straight, her eyes fixed on the lamp. This lamp didn't need electricity or fire.
Its fuel... was kindness.
Its wick... was a wish.
The thought was insane, absurd, yet it wrapped around her heart like a vine breaking through barren ground in a desperate bid for life. She had to try.
Stella closed her eyes, forcing herself to forget the rent, the hunger, the crushing weight of it all. She focused on the memory of the little girl's smile, the warmth she had felt when she helped the old woman.
She poured all her focus into the lamp, holding it in both hands, and wished with all her might.
"I wish... I wish my scooter could be fixed. Not for me, but so I can keep making deliveries, keep earning money... to help more people who are struggling in the rain just like me... I wish it had a full charge, so I can keep going..."
Her wish was humble and specific. There was no greed in it, only the simple, desperate desire to survive and to continue doing good.
And then, the miracle happened.
With a soft click, as if a long-sealed mechanism had been triggered, the blackened cotton wick of the lamp ignited with a single, golden flame.
The flame was small, but incredibly steady, emitting an indescribably warm glow. It wasn't harsh; it flowed like liquid honey, instantly dispelling the cold and darkness of the room.
Stella held her breath, unable to believe her eyes.
In the glow, she saw the surface of the lamp come alive. Faint light flowed through the ancient carvings. She even seemed to see blurry images—the lamp being lit by monks in an ancient temple, illuminating the wounds of soldiers on a battlefield, guiding lost ships through the night...
This lamp held the kindness and wishes of countless people over centuries.
And now, that power was flowing through her hands, directed where she needed it most.
She snapped her eyes open, grabbed her keys, and ran downstairs. In the dim stairwell, the lamp's glow was like a beating heart in her hands.
She reached the bike shed. Her "junk" scooter sat in the corner like a cold, metal corpse. With a trembling hand, she pressed the start button.
Nothing.
She tried again, her hope starting to flicker.
Just as she was about to give up, the indicator on the dashboard flickered weakly.
Her heart skipped a beat. She held the glowing lamp closer to the scooter. The golden flame seemed to sense something, its light intensifying slightly.
Bzzzzz—
A faint electric hum filled the air. The entire dashboard lit up. The battery indicator, once a glaring red, shot up, finally stopping at a solid "100%."
It... it was fully charged.
Tears streamed down Stella's face. Not for the scooter, but for this response in her darkest hour, for the proof that kindness had power.
She smiled through her tears, her face radiant in the golden light.