Princess Mira lived at the very top of a tall tower library, where the shelves went so high you had to stand on your tiptoes just to see the top ones. She had read almost every book in the tower. Almost.
One night, she noticed a small green book on the highest shelf. She reached for it — and it hummed. A low, buzzing hum, like a bee inside a jar. Then it slid sideways, just a little, and stopped.
Mira climbed one rung higher on the ladder. The book hummed again and slid again. She tilted her head. *Hm. Hm. Hm.* Books didn't usually do that. Mira decided this was interesting, not frightening — and she climbed down to follow it.
The green book drifted off the shelf and bobbed down toward the spiral staircase, wobbling gently as it went. *Hm. Hm. Hm.* Mira followed it, her slippers whispering against the stone steps, one hand trailing the cool iron railing.
They had nearly reached the middle landing when a candlestick let out a yelp. "IT'S CHASING ME!" he shrieked, his flame sputtering so hard that three drops of wax plopped onto the floor with a soft *plock, plock, plock.*
Mira held up one hand. "Books cannot chase candles," she said, very calmly. "They don't have legs. Look — no legs." She pointed. The candlestick squinted down at the book. The book hovered politely. It did not have legs.
"Oh," said the candlestick. His flame steadied. He straightened up as tall as he could, which was not very tall. "Well. In that case," he said, "I suppose I could light the way." And he did, his warm yellow flame throwing wobbling shadows on the stone walls all the way down.
*Hm. Hm. Hm.* The green book floated lower and lower until it stopped in front of a small wooden door at the very bottom of the tower. Mira had walked past this door a hundred times. She had always thought it was a cupboard.
She pressed her palm flat against the wood. It was smooth and slightly warm, as if someone had been resting a hand there not so long ago. She pushed, and the door swung open with a soft, slow creak.
Inside was a little reading nook, just the right size for one small princess. There was a shelf on the wall, and one empty space on that shelf — exactly as wide as a small green book. And in the corner sat a chair, plump and red, with arms just the right height for resting elbows.
Mira crossed the room and placed the green book gently into its space on the shelf. It fit perfectly. It let out one last hum — quieter now, like a sigh — and went still.
Then, very slowly, something moved inside the cover. A tiny paper crane, folded from pale yellow paper, pushed its way out through the pages. Its wings spread wide — and then it was not a crane anymore. It was a small soft light, glowing steady and low, warm as a lamp through old paper.
*Hm. Hm. Hm,* Mira said to herself, because she was starting to like that sound. She climbed into the red chair and pulled the first book from the shelf. The paper-crane light glowed just bright enough to read by.
Her eyes moved slowly across the words. Once. Twice. Then her head tipped, just a little, against the wing of the chair, and the book rested open on her lap, and the light glowed on.
