"You came."
"Of course I came. You're on my list."
"The nice list?"
"The very nice list." I rested my hand on the bed rail, close without touching. "Ryan told me you've been brave. That you don't complain even when things are hard, that takes courage."
His lower lip trembled. "I try. Sometimes I'm scared, though."
"That's okay. Being brave doesn't mean you're never scared. It means you keep going even when you are." I glanced at Ben. "And I brought you something. Something a friend of mine made especially for you."
Ben set the crate on the tray table and lifted the wrapping away.
The dragon nightlight lay nestled in wood shavings. Carved from maple, wings half-spread, jaws open in a friendly roar—every scale shaped by hand.
"A dragon!" Marcus exclaimed. "A real dragon."
"His name is whatever you want it to be," Ben said. "And when you turn this on at night—" He pressed a switch hidden in the belly.
Warm light spilled from the dragon's jaws. Amber and gold, flickering like fire but softer. And carved into the dragon's chest, a mark began to pulse.
Thu-thump. Thu-thump.
A heartbeat.
"It's beating," Marcus whispered. "Like a heart."
"When dragons find the person they're meant to protect," Ben said, "their heart starts beating. Means he's yours now. Forever."
Marcus reached out—slowly, carefully—and touched the dragon's wing. The glow intensified.
"There's one more thing," I said.
Ben pulled out the star projector—a wooden sphere pierced with dozens of tiny holes. He hit the switch.
Stars bloomed across the room.
They scattered across the walls, the ceiling, and Marcus's blankets. The Big Dipper curved over the doorway. Directly above Marcus's bed, the North Star held steady.
"Oh," Marcus said. Nothing more.
His face transformed. The weariness fell away. For a few heartbeats, he was simply a young boy lying under the stars, wonder written across every feature.
"Will the magic keep working?" he asked. "Even when you're gone?"
"The magic isn't in me," I said. "It's in the gifts. In the person who made them. In you, for believing." I rested my hand over his where it lay on the dragon. "This dragon is going to be here every night. The stars are going to be here every night. And whenever you feel scared, you can look at them and know they're with you."
Marcus's fingers wrapped around the dragon's wing.
Ryan climbed carefully onto the bed beside his friend, settling against the pillows. "I told you. I told you Santa was real."
"You did." Marcus leaned into him. "You were right."
Charice stepped forward. "Ryan wrote something. He wanted Santa to read it, but I think Marcus should hear it too."
She handed me a folded piece of notebook paper—wrinkled, much handled. Ryan's careful handwriting covered the page.
I read aloud.
