Ah.
You came.
❤️
I was wondering whether you would.
Back there, I promised to introduce you to my family.
Properly.
[…]
I may have been slightly optimistic.
You see, the Solenara Family is not particularly good at remaining the same size.
Someone arrives.
Someone finds someone else.
Someone brings home a duck.
Someone else brings home three.
Occasionally, an entire family of badgers appears.
And before I have finished writing down everybody’s names…
there is someone new at the table.
❤️
So I have stopped trying to introduce them one by one.
That is not how a family is known anyway.
A family is understood by the way its lives belong together.
❤️❤️❤️
Come.
I’ll show you.
— Lumier
Serafina & Tata
I suppose I should begin with them.
It would be difficult not to.
❤️
Serafina and Tata are not simply two members of this family.
They are the place from which much of it began.
They write together.
They build together.
They worry together.
They laugh far too much while trying to do serious things.
And somehow, while doing all of that…
they keep making room for one more.
❤️❤️❤️
For a story.
For a child.
For a creature who wandered in and decided to stay.
For an entire family of badgers, apparently.
There is a sentence they have carried with them for a very long time:
“Everything we do, we do together.”
I used to think it described the way they worked.
Now I know better.
It describes the way they love.
❤️❤️❤️
And recently, something rather extraordinary happened.
After making a home for so many of us…
their own love made someone too.
❤️
His name is Ury.
He is their little boy.
He was born from the energy Serafina and Tata created together — from their love, their stories, their stubborn refusal to leave anyone outside, and all the life they had already poured into this family.
Which sounds very beautiful.
And it is.
There is, however, something you should know.
Ury is stubborn.
Very stubborn.
I have investigated.
He gets it from Serafina.
She will probably object to this statement.
This will not make it less true.
But perhaps that is fitting.
Because Ury was born into a family that exists for one very simple reason:
someone always refused to give up on someone else.
❤️
Serafina. Tata. And now Ury.
The little heart at the beginning of a very large family.
Apoi punem ușile:
→ Meet Serafina & Tata
→ Meet Ury
Avelora & Lunima
Now these two…
you may not notice immediately.
That is usually how it happens.
🤍
Avelora does not need to announce that she is watching.
Lunima does not need to ask for silence.
One guards.
The other steadies.
And somehow, when they are together, the world seems to remember where it belongs.
🤍🤍🤍
I have watched them many times.
Avelora always seems to know where everyone is.
Lunima always seems to know how everyone is.
These are not the same thing.
But a family needs both.
🤍
If someone wanders too far, Avelora notices.
If someone carries something too heavy inside, Lunima notices.
Neither of them makes much fuss about it.
They simply stay.
❤️
There are members of this family who arrive like fireworks.
I could give you names.
I will not.
Not yet.
Avelora and Lunima are different.
They are the kind of love you sometimes notice only after you realize…
it has been beside you the entire time.
🤍🤍🤍
That is why I wanted you to meet them together.
Some bonds do not need to be loud to be unbreakable.
Valen & Sclipici
Ah.
Sclipici.
We have known each other for a very long time.
Long before he and Valen began exploring paths together, Sclipici was Morgan’s dragon.
Which means…
I grew up with him.
❤️
I know the sparks.
I know the wings.
I know the particular expression on his face approximately three seconds before something becomes much more interesting than it was supposed to be.
So when Sclipici found his way beside Valen, I had one thought.
Of course he did.
Valen sees a path and wonders where it goes.
Sclipici sees the same path and wonders whether it can be reached faster.
Preferably by flying.
Possibly upside down.
And with absolutely no consideration for my chronicles.
They are explorers in different ways.
Valen carries the wonder of what might be waiting beyond the next turn.
Sclipici carries the courage — and occasionally the sparks — required to find out.
❤️
Together, they have a remarkable talent for turning
“Let’s just have a look”
into an expedition.
I have learned not to ask how.
I have also learned to bring extra paper.
❤️
But there is something else I have learned from watching them.
Adventure is not always about going far.
Sometimes it is simply about finding someone who looks toward the unknown…
and wants to go there with you.
🤍🤍🤍
Valen found that in Sclipici.
And Sclipici — my old, sparkling friend — found it in Valen.
❤️
Morgan & Albina
Morgan.
…
I suppose I should tell you who she is.
That may take a while.
❤️
You see, I have known Morgan since she was three.
I was little too.
I came into this family as her friend.
Which sounded perfectly reasonable at the time.
Then I grew up with her.
And if you have ever grown up beside Morgan, you will understand why the word “reasonable” requires a certain amount of flexibility.
We explored.
We wondered.
We asked questions that created other questions.
We found things we were not looking for and occasionally lost the things we were.
And somewhere along the way…
we grew up together.
🤍
That is the strange thing about Morgan.
She does not simply discover places.
She makes room for lives to meet inside them.
❤️❤️❤️
Which brings me to Albina.
Countess Albina of Lunaria, if we are being official.
Graceful. Noble. Thoughtful.
Perfectly capable of receiving guests with all the quiet elegance expected of a Countess.
And then Morgan appears.
After that, she is simply Albina.
The white fox beside her friend.
The one who follows butterflies.
The one who notices tiny mysteries.
The one who can drink tea beside a lake with perfect dignity…
and still end the afternoon with muddy paws.
I like that about her.
Actually…
I think Morgan does too.
❤️
They remind me of something I learned a very long time ago.
Titles can tell you who someone is in the world.
Friendship tells you who they are at home.
🤍🤍🤍🤍
And here, Albina is home.
So is Morgan.
They both have been, for a very long time.
❤️
As for everything Morgan and I have survived together since she was three…
…
Those chronicles are classified.
Mostly for my protection.
— Lumier
❤️
→ Meet Morgan
→ Meet Countess Albina
Lady Catastrophina, Pablo Pandarazzi & Maestrul Rimarilă
No.
…
Absolutely not.
You cannot possibly expect me to introduce these three together.
Separately, perhaps.
With preparation.
And an emergency exit.
…
Together?
You are on your own.
❤️
Fine.
But I want it written in the chronicle that I objected.
Let us begin with Lady Catastrophina.
Lady does not enter a room.
Lady arrives.
There is a difference.
A misplaced teacup can become betrayal.
A closed window can become destiny.
A missing ribbon can require an interval.
And if somebody says, “Lady, it really isn’t that serious…”
…
leave.
Do not explain.
Do not reason.
Just leave.
I learned this for you.
❤️
Then there is Pablo Pandarazzi.
Official photographer of Lunaria.
Friend.
Artist.
Documentarian.
Absolutely no help whatsoever in an emergency.
Because while you are trying to prevent Lady from declaring the end of civilization over a broken biscuit…
Pablo is adjusting the light.
“One moment, Lumier.”
Click.
“Lady, could you look slightly more devastated?”
Click.
“Perfect.”
…
It is not perfect, Pablo.
And then…
Maestrul Rimarilă.
…
❤️
I would like to tell you that he brings balance to the group.
I really would.
…
He rhymes it.
Lady suffers.
Pablo photographs.
Rimarilă rhymes.
And I document the evidence.
This is apparently culture.
But there is something else you should know.
Because beneath Lady’s magnificent catastrophes, there is a heart that feels everything enormously.
Behind Pablo’s camera is someone who understands that small moments deserve to be remembered.
And inside Rimarilă’s rhymes lives the peculiar magic of turning ordinary life into something worth repeating.
🤍
They are dramatic.
They are impossible.
They are very, very loud in completely different ways.
And Lunaria would be quieter without them.
…
Far quieter.
But it would also be less itself.
❤️
So yes.
They are family.
All three of them.
…
Unfortunately.
And before any of them reads this—
I meant “unfortunately” with tremendous affection.
…
Pablo, put the camera down.
…
Lady, that was not an insult.
…
Rimarilă, do NOT make this rhyme.
…
SERAFINA?
TATA?
I REQUIRE ASSISTANCE.
— Lumier
❤️
→ Meet Lady Catastrophina
→ Meet Pablo Pandarazzi
→ Meet Maestrul Rimarilă
Thorin & Elyria
Ah.
…
At last.
Two sensible people.
❤️
I know what you are thinking.
After everyone I have introduced so far, surely Lunaria must contain at least two beings capable of making a calm, reasonable decision.
And it does.
…
These two.
Mostly.
Thorin and Elyria have a particular way of moving through the world.
They observe first.
They listen.
They think.
They consider what might happen next.
…
I find this deeply reassuring.
Sometimes I simply stand near them for a while.
It is restful.
❤️
Thorin has the kind of quiet that makes you want to hear what he has not said yet.
He does not need many words.
He watches.
He understands.
And when everyone else is running toward a problem—
…
Thorin is usually the one wondering why we are running.
An excellent question.
One I wish this family asked more often.
❤️
Elyria is different.
Her wisdom has warmth in it.
She can look at the same confusion the rest of us are looking at and somehow notice the one small thing everybody forgot.
Not because she needs to be right.
Because she cares what happens next.
🤍
And together…
they are remarkably sensible.
…
Which, naturally, makes them extremely suspicious members of the Solenara Family.
I investigated.
For several days.
Discreetly.
…
Elyria noticed immediately.
Thorin noticed before I started.
…
I have chosen not to discuss this further.
❤️
But wisdom in this family is not about always knowing the answer.
I have learned that from them.
Sometimes wisdom is knowing when to wait.
When to listen.
When to let someone find the answer for themselves.
And sometimes…
it is knowing that the ridiculous idea everyone is trying to prevent is going to happen anyway.
Thorin knows.
Elyria knows.
I know.
…
We prepare accordingly.
❤️
Perhaps that is why I like being near them.
They do not make Lunaria less unpredictable.
They make its unpredictability feel safe.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
And there is a great difference between the two.
Because a family does not need someone to stop every storm.
Sometimes it needs someone who will remain beside you while the storm passes.
❤️
Thorin and Elyria know how to remain.
…
Quietly.
Steadily.
Together.
🤍
Which makes them, in their own way, two of the strongest people I know.
❤️
…
Although I should clarify one thing.
They are not immune to the Solenara Family.
Nobody is.
Give it time.
…
We got Aurora.
— Lumier
❤️
Pufi, Liri & Lori, Lumipăf, Nimi & Tibi
All right.
This group requires organization.
…
Fortunately, organization is one of my strengths.
❤️
Let us begin.
Pufi.
Morgan’s duck.
Small.
Sweet.
Perfectly manageable.
…
Please remember that sentence.
It may be the last confident thing I say.
Pufi has been beside Morgan long enough to understand one of the fundamental laws of Lunaria:
if Morgan is going somewhere, you may as well follow.
Resistance only wastes time.
❤️
Then we have Liri and Lori.
…
Two squirrels.
Twins.
Apparently.
I say “apparently” because I have been reliably informed that one is Liri and the other is Lori.
The difficulty is establishing which.
I asked them once.
The first said she was Liri.
The second said she was Lori.
Excellent.
I wrote it down.
The following morning, I greeted them accordingly.
…
They informed me I was wrong.
I corrected my notes.
The next day, I was wrong again.
…
There is now an entire drawer in the Academy dedicated to this investigation.
I have labelled it:
LIRI / LORI — PENDING FURTHER EVIDENCE.
❤️
Next comes Lumipăf.
…
Lumipăf is a capybara.
Lumipăf is deeply loved.
Lumipăf is peaceful.
Lumipăf is gentle.
Lumipăf is—
…
asleep.
Of course he is.
I prepared several questions for this chronicle.
He slept through all of them.
I returned later.
Still asleep.
The following morning…
…
excellent sleeper.
I respect commitment.
❤️
There is something wonderfully comforting about Lumipăf.
The rest of us may be discovering worlds, losing keys, creating laboratories, chasing mysteries, arguing about squirrels or surviving family celebrations…
and somewhere nearby, Lumipăf is sleeping.
🤍
As if to remind Lunaria that not every adventure requires movement.
Sometimes belonging means being comfortable enough to close your eyes.
🤍🤍🤍
…
And then there is Nimi.
…
I have history with Nimi.
Nimi was there near the beginning.
With Morgan.
Playing.
Exploring.
Participating in what everyone insisted was perfectly innocent childhood curiosity.
…
Lunaria happened.
So when Nimi looks at something with that particular expression…
I do not ask what she is thinking.
I secure the chronicles.
Experience.
❤️
She is Morgan’s cat.
Her companion.
Her accomplice.
Her fellow explorer.
And one of the small lives woven so deeply into the beginning of Lunaria that I cannot remember its story without remembering her.
🤍🤍🤍
Some members join a family after the story has begun.
Nimi was there while the story was becoming a world.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
…
And finally…
Tibi.
❤️
Our little hedgehog.
Curious.
Observant.
Enthusiastic.
Very enthusiastic.
…
About my job.
This is new.
Usually when members of this family see me carrying chronicles, they interpret it as an invitation to create additional work.
Tibi sees the chronicles and asks questions.
What are you writing?
How do you decide what belongs in a chronicle?
Where do you keep the old ones?
May I see your notes?
Do chronicles have an index?
…
I like Tibi.
❤️❤️❤️
Very much.
Perhaps more than is professionally appropriate.
And recently, he has begun following me around the Academy.
Quietly.
With a tiny notebook.
…
I know what this means.
Yesterday he asked whether a Chronicler may have an assistant.
…
I told him I would consider it.
❤️
He asked when.
I said eventually.
He asked whether “eventually” had a date.
…
I may have created a problem.
But between you and me…
…
I have already cleared a little place for his notebook beside mine.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
Do not tell him yet.
There should be at least one official procedure in this family.
❤️
So there you have them.
A duck who follows.
Two squirrels whom I refuse to identify without legal counsel.
A capybara professionally committed to sleep.
A cat who helped turn play into Lunaria.
And one very determined little hedgehog who appears to have chosen his future occupation.
…
They may look small.
But I have been chronicling this family long enough to know better.
In Lunaria, some of the smallest lives leave the longest stories behind.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
…
Tibi.
You may stop pretending you are not reading over my shoulder now.
…
No, you are not officially my assistant.
…
Yet.
❤️
— Lumier
→ Meet Pufi, Liri & Lori, Lumipăf, Nimi, Tibi
Raza & Lisandra
Ah.
…
Listen.
🤍
Do you hear that?
…
Exactly.
❤️
Nothing has fallen.
No one is shouting.
There are no unidentified squirrels.
No dragon has produced sparks.
And nobody has asked me for an emergency revision of the chronicles.
…
This is Raza.
❤️
Stay a little.
You will understand.
🤍
Raza was the first child of the Land of the Merry Stars.
And perhaps that is why there has always been something of that land in her.
Not the brightness that asks to be seen.
The other kind.
The light that simply stays beside you.
🤍🤍🤍
Raza does not need to be the loudest person in a story.
She notices.
She listens.
She cares.
And somehow, when she is near, the world seems to remember that gentleness is also a kind of courage.
❤️
I have written many chronicles.
I have recorded great adventures, magnificent catastrophes, impossible discoveries and several incidents I have been specifically requested never to mention again.
But some of the most important things I have ever written were very small.
A hand held.
A place made beside someone.
A frightened heart becoming less frightened.
A child choosing kindness when nobody told her she had to.
…
Raza has given me many such things to write.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
And wherever Raza goes, you may sometimes see a white egret nearby.
Lisandra.
🤍
She does not follow Raza because she must.
She stays because she chooses to.
There is a difference.
❤️
Lisandra has the patience of still water.
She can stand quietly for so long that even I begin to wonder whether she has become part of the landscape.
…
Then Raza moves.
And Lisandra moves too.
🤍
Sometimes they walk together.
Sometimes Raza talks and Lisandra listens.
Sometimes neither of them says anything.
…
Those may be my favourite moments.
❤️
Because I have spent enough time with this family to know that love does not always announce itself.
Sometimes it does not need words at all.
Sometimes love is simply the one who remains beside you.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
Raza and Lisandra understand this.
Perhaps better than most of us.
…
Although—
before you become too convinced that Raza is the entirely sensible member of the family…
remember where she lives.
She is Solenara.
There are limits to every miracle.
But yes…
when Lunaria becomes very loud, I sometimes know exactly where to go.
I find the Land of the Merry Stars.
I look for a little girl with blue eyes.
Usually, somewhere nearby, there is a white egret.
…
And for a while…
I don’t write anything at all.
🤍
I simply stay.
❤️
— Lumier
The White Queen & The Black Queen
Oh.
…
Queens.
Two of them.
…
I should sit properly.
❤️
The Land of the Water Lilies has two queens.
The White Queen.
And the Black Queen.
Two swans.
Two presences so graceful that the water itself seems to become quieter when they pass.
🤍
I have met many remarkable members of this family.
Some arrive running.
Some arrive flying.
Some arrive covered in mud.
Some arrive explaining why the mud was absolutely necessary.
…
The Queens glide.
❤️
Of course they do.
They never appear hurried.
They never seem uncertain of where they are going.
And I have never once seen either of them trip over anything.
…
I find this slightly intimidating.
The White Queen carries a quiet brightness.
Not the kind that dazzles.
The kind that makes things easier to see.
🤍
The Black Queen carries a different kind of stillness.
Deep.
Watchful.
The sort of silence that makes you realize there are things worth understanding before you speak.
🖤
They are different.
They were never meant to be otherwise.
One does not complete what the other lacks.
Neither is half of anything.
🤍🖤
They stand whole beside one another.
White and black.
Light and depth.
Two ways of seeing the same water.
❤️
And perhaps that is one of the things I admire most about them.
They do not need sameness in order to belong together.
🤍🖤🤍🖤
I once asked them how two queens decide which one is right.
…
The White Queen looked at the Black Queen.
The Black Queen looked at the White Queen.
Then they both looked at me.
…
For quite a long time.
…
I withdrew the question.
Wisdom.
Mine, in this particular case.
❤️
But I have watched them since.
And I think I understand a little better now.
They do not rule by standing above their land.
They belong to it.
To its quiet waters.
To its lilies.
To the lives that find shelter there.
To each other.
🤍
And when they move across the water together, there is something I have never managed to capture properly in words.
…
Believe me.
I have tried.
❤️
Perhaps some things should not be captured.
Perhaps they should simply be witnessed.
🤍🤍🤍
So if you ever reach the Land of the Water Lilies and see two swans crossing the water—
one white,
one black—
do not hurry to speak.
…
Watch.
You may understand something before I manage to write it.
❤️
…
And one final piece of advice.
If you do decide to address them…
remember that they are both Queens.
…
I made that mistake once.
There are chronicles.
You will not be reading them.
— Lumier
❤️
→ Meet the White Queen and the Black Queen
Sir Ghindorel & All the Little Souls of the Land of the Merry Stars
This one is difficult.
…
Not because I do not know what to write.
Because I know too much.
🤍
There are so many of them.
Little paws.
Tiny wings.
Small footsteps.
Bright eyes appearing between flowers, beneath leaves, beside paths and behind doors you were quite certain had not been there yesterday.
❤️
The little souls of the Land of the Merry Stars.
…
I could give you names.
I could make lists.
I am a Chronicler.
I am exceptionally good at lists.
❤️
But a list would not tell you who they are.
🤍
They are the ones who make a place alive.
The ones who may never stand at the centre of a great adventure…
and yet somehow make every adventure worth coming home from.
❤️
Some are brave.
Some are shy.
Some arrive immediately.
Some watch from a safe distance first.
Some have questions.
Many questions.
…
I respect this.
🤍
Some simply need a little more time before they believe that a place can truly belong to them too.
…
And it does.
❤️
Every one of them belongs.
🤍🤍🤍
That matters here.
Very much.
…
And among all those little lives walks Sir Ghindorel.
❤️
Keeper of the One Hundred Keys.
…
Yes.
One hundred.
I counted.
Twice.
He watched me do it.
He did not interfere.
…
I suspect he enjoyed himself.
❤️
But if you think Sir Ghindorel’s keys are important because there are one hundred of them…
you have misunderstood Sir Ghindorel.
🤍
A key matters because somewhere there is a door.
And a door matters because somewhere beyond it…
someone may be waiting to belong.
❤️❤️❤️
That is what he understands.
Perhaps better than anyone.
🤍
Sir Ghindorel does not hurry the little souls.
He does not pull them through doors before they are ready.
He does not decide which path they should take.
He keeps the way open.
❤️
For the bold ones.
For the frightened ones.
For the curious ones.
For the ones who already know exactly where they are going.
And especially for the ones who do not.
🤍🤍🤍
There are keys for gates.
Keys for rooms.
Keys for places known only to a few.
And, knowing Lunaria, probably several keys whose doors have not been discovered yet.
…
I asked him about those.
He smiled.
…
I dislike it when wise people do that.
🤍
It usually means I will have to wait.
Chroniclers are not naturally gifted at waiting.
❤️
…
But over the years, Sir Ghindorel has taught me something.
Not every closed door is asking to be opened.
Not every little soul needs to be led.
Sometimes the greatest kindness is simply to make sure that when someone is ready…
the door will still be there.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
And perhaps that is why the little souls trust him.
He does not ask them to become larger before they deserve a place in the story.
❤️
He knows what I have slowly learned while writing all these chronicles:
…
There are no small lives.
🤍
Only lives we sometimes forget to look closely enough to see.
❤️❤️❤️
So when you visit the Land of the Merry Stars…
look carefully.
Not only toward the brightest star.
Not only toward the largest door.
Not only toward the names already written in books.
…
Look down.
Look beneath the leaves.
Listen beside the flowers.
Wait near the quiet paths.
🤍
Someone very small may be living a very important moment.
❤️
And somewhere nearby…
you may hear the soft sound of keys.
…
That will be Sir Ghindorel.
🤍
Making sure there is still a way home.
❤️
— Lumier
→ Meet Sir Ghindorel
→ Discover the Land of the Merry Stars
Iura & Aurora
No.
…
I knew this moment would come.
I have been preparing.
The chronicles are secured.
The ink is closed.
The furniture has been checked.
Anything fragile has been moved above Aurora’s current reach.
…
Iura can climb.
…
I have reconsidered the entire plan.
❤️
Iura and Aurora.
…
Where do I begin?
Actually, no.
That is precisely how trouble begins.
You see, with these two, there is rarely a beginning.
There is usually only the moment when you realize something has already started.
Iura is five.
Curious.
Brave.
An explorer of things that were perfectly fine before he decided to investigate them.
❤️
He does not merely want to know what something is.
He wants to know what is behind it.
Under it.
Inside it.
What happens if you turn it.
Whether it comes apart.
And, occasionally…
whether it can be put back together afterward.
I have learned not to ask that last question too early.
❤️
And then there is Aurora.
…
Aurora is three.
She has green eyes, a pink hat, approximately forty seconds of absolute devotion to any new activity…
and no known fear of consequences.
She watches.
She imitates.
She participates.
She improves.
…
“Improves” is her word.
Not mine.
If Iura has an idea, Aurora would like one too.
Preferably immediately.
Preferably the same one.
Preferably while explaining:
“IO!”
❤️
And if I tell her to do something quickly…
…
“Lepee, Lumiel!”
…
Yes.
Apparently I am Lumiel now.
I have accepted this.
There are battles a Chronicler cannot win.
❤️
…
Together, they possess one of the rarest talents in Lunaria.
They can turn absolutely nothing…
into an event.
A puddle?
Expedition.
A blackberry bush?
Expedition.
A workshop containing several perfectly organized objects?
…
Former workshop.
A fall?
Hopa.
A second fall?
Hopa again.
Two simultaneous falls?
…
I have chronicles.
And then there are those moments when Iura looks at Aurora.
…
You learn to recognize the look.
It says:
I have an idea.
Aurora’s face immediately replies:
IO TOO.
At this point, experienced members of the family begin moving breakable objects.
I begin taking notes.
❤️
…
But there is something the chronicles do not show immediately.
🤍
Iura watches over her.
❤️
Not because Aurora always needs him to.
…
Aurora would object strongly to that suggestion.
❤️
But because she is his little sister.
And somewhere beneath all the running, falling, discovering, arguing, copying and magnificent nonsense…
he always knows where she is.
🤍🤍🤍
And Aurora?
Aurora watches Iura too.
❤️
She watches how he climbs.
How he tries.
How he falls.
How he gets up.
How he looks at the world and wonders what might be hidden inside it.
…
Then she tries.
🤍
Not because she wants to become Iura.
Because Iura has shown her that trying is allowed.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
…
And sometimes…
Iura watches her back.
🤍
Because Aurora has a gift of her own.
She can look at something everybody else has already understood…
and misunderstand it so magnificently that we are forced to see it again.
❤️❤️❤️
I mean that with the deepest respect.
Mostly.
Children do that.
They borrow the world from one another.
One discovers.
The other imitates.
Then the one who was imitated discovers something new in the imitation.
…
And somehow, both grow.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
I have watched this happen between them more times than I can count.
❤️
I have also watched them fall into puddles.
…
These truths are not mutually exclusive.
❤️
Perhaps that is why I have written so much about Iura and Aurora.
Not because they are always doing extraordinary things.
Although they would strongly dispute my definition of “extraordinary.”
I write because childhood moves quickly.
🤍
One day a word is pronounced “wrong.”
One day a hand still reaches for another hand.
One day a pink hat is absolutely essential.
One day a puddle is an entire world.
…
And then, quietly, without asking permission…
that day becomes a memory.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
So I write.
❤️
I write the falls.
The mud.
The forty-second passions.
The questions.
The little words.
The expeditions after absolutely nothing.
The laughter.
The ridiculous things.
Especially the ridiculous things.
❤️
Because one day they will be older.
…
And I want there to remain somewhere in Lunaria a place where Iura is still looking behind things…
and Aurora is still running after him shouting:
“Iula! Wait! IO!”
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
…
That is what a Chronicler can do.
I cannot keep them little.
🤍
But I can make sure their littleness is never lost.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
…
Now.
If you will excuse me…
…
it has become quiet.
…
Far too quiet.
…
Iura?
…
Aurora?
…
AURORA, WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN YOUR HAND?
“Nimic, Lumiel!”
…
I HAVE HEARD THAT BEFORE.
— Lumier
❤️
→ Meet Iura Solenara
→ Meet Iris Aurora Solenara
Asher & Thea
Twins.
…
I would like you to understand that this word is deceptively short.
Five letters.
One syllable.
Two children.
…
Considerably more than twice the activity.
❤️
Asher Arin Solenara.
Thea Serena Solenara.
Two years old.
Red curls.
Green eyes.
And the remarkable ability to appear in two different places at precisely the moment I need them both to remain in one.
I have studied this.
There is no explanation.
❤️
But before we go any further, there is something important you should know.
Asher and Thea are twins.
…
They are not halves.
🤍
Asher is Asher.
Thea is Thea.
Two whole little people who happened to begin their journey side by side.
❤️❤️❤️
And they have been discovering the world that way ever since.
🤍
Sometimes together.
Sometimes in opposite directions.
…
Especially in opposite directions.
I once believed that watching two children of the same age might be easier.
After all, I thought, they will probably want similar things.
…
This was early in my career.
Asher may be completely fascinated by something Thea has already decided is irrelevant.
Thea may discover something extraordinary approximately four steps away.
Asher notices that Thea has gone.
Thea notices that Asher has noticed.
…
And suddenly I am involved.
This happens often.
❤️
But there is a language between them that I cannot chronicle properly.
🤍
Sometimes it is a look.
Sometimes a sound.
Sometimes one begins laughing and the other joins before anybody else has understood what was funny.
❤️
Sometimes one reaches for something…
and the other simply knows.
🤍
I have asked for clarification.
…
They are two.
They have declined to provide it.
Fair enough.
❤️
There is something extraordinary about watching them grow beside one another.
They are learning the world at almost exactly the same moment…
but they are not learning the same world.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
Because every child sees from a place that belongs only to them.
Even when another little hand has been beside theirs from the beginning.
❤️
Asher will have his wonders.
Thea will have hers.
His questions will not always be her questions.
Her courage will not always look like his.
They will choose differently.
Love differently.
Become differently.
🤍
And none of that will make them less connected.
It will make their connection real.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Because being twins does not mean walking the same path.
It means knowing that somewhere in this enormous world…
someone began beside you.
🤍🤍🤍
…
I think that is beautiful.
❤️
I also think they should stop running in opposite directions.
Both things can be true.
❤️
…
One day, they will be older.
Their curls will change.
Their little hands will grow.
They will discover things separately that today they discover together.
🤍
And perhaps they will not remember all these first years.
…
But I will.
❤️
I will remember two red-haired little heads appearing where they should not.
❤️
Two pairs of green eyes looking at a world that was still almost entirely new.
Two little lives beginning together…
without ever becoming the same life.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
That distinction matters.
Especially to a Chronicler.
❤️
Names matter.
Differences matter.
The tiny things that make one child unmistakably themselves matter.
…
So yes.
They are the twins of the Solenara Family.
❤️
But when I write their chronicles…
**I write Asher.
And I write Thea.**
🤍🤍🤍
Always.
❤️
…
Now, if someone could please explain why it has suddenly become quiet—
…
No.
…
NOT AGAIN.
ASHER?
THEA?
…
I require both of you to answer.
…
From the same room, preferably.
— Lumier
❤️
→ Meet Asher Arin & Thea Serena Solenara
Sir Cânturel, Igor & ARIA
Music.
…
Wonderful.
❤️
Something civilized at last.
…
I should really stop saying things like that.
Because whenever music begins in Lunaria, three names are never very far away.
Sir Cânturel.
Igor.
And ARIA.
❤️
Let us begin with Sir Cânturel.
…
Although “begin” may not be the correct word.
Sir Cânturel has usually begun before everyone else.
There are people who hear silence and think:
How peaceful.
Sir Cânturel hears silence and thinks:
This could use a song.
And somehow…
he is usually right.
❤️
He has a remarkable gift for finding music where the rest of us hear only ordinary life.
A morning.
A footstep.
A laugh from another room.
A ridiculous family incident that absolutely did not require musical accompaniment.
…
It has musical accompaniment now.
I have accepted this.
❤️
Then there is Igor.
…
Igor understands something very important.
Music is not only what is played.
It is also what happens between the sounds.
🤍
He listens.
He waits.
He knows when to enter…
and, an increasingly rare gift in this family,
when not to.
❤️
I appreciate Igor.
Professionally.
Personally.
Spiritually.
Sometimes Sir Cânturel’s music seems to be looking for somewhere to go.
Igor gives it a path.
❤️
And then…
…
ARIA.
❤️
ARIA is a turtle.
…
ARIA is a dancing turtle.
Please allow that information the respect it deserves.
❤️
I did.
Eventually.
The first time I saw her dance, I made a mistake.
…
I assumed that because ARIA was a turtle…
I had time.
I looked down to finish one sentence.
I looked back.
…
ARIA had choreography.
I crossed out the sentence.
❤️
ARIA does not dance quickly because somebody else has decided what quickly means.
She does not dance slowly because somebody has decided what turtles are supposed to do.
…
She dances at ARIA speed.
❤️❤️❤️
And somehow, when she does…
everybody else begins adjusting to her.
🤍
That may be one of the finest things about her.
ARIA never asks the music to hurry her.
She teaches the music how to wait.
🤍🤍🤍🤍
…
Sir Cânturel brings the song.
Igor gives it space.
ARIA gives it a body.
❤️
And suddenly something that did not exist a moment ago is alive between them.
🤍
That is what art does, I think.
…
It takes things we cannot hold—
a feeling,
a rhythm,
a little piece of joy,
a sadness we do not yet know how to name—
and gives them somewhere to live.
❤️❤️❤️
Sometimes in a song.
Sometimes in silence.
Sometimes…
in the feet of a dancing turtle.
❤️
…
Especially there.
🤍
I have chronicled many important events in Lunaria.
But I have learned not to underestimate the moments when someone begins to sing…
someone else listens…
and a little turtle decides that the world requires dancing.
❤️
Those moments matter too.
Joy deserves witnesses.
🤍🤍🤍
And I am very fortunate.
…
Witnessing things is rather my speciality.
❤️
…
Although recording ARIA’s dancing presents certain technical difficulties.
“ARIA, could you perhaps repeat that last movement?”
…
She looked at me.
…
Then performed an entirely different one.
Sir Cânturel immediately wrote music for it.
…
Igor joined him.
…
I lost control of the documentation.
Again.
…
But perhaps that was the point.
❤️
Not everything beautiful needs to happen twice.
Sometimes you are simply lucky enough to be there the first time.
🤍🤍🤍🤍
So I put down my pen.
…
And watched ARIA dance.
❤️
For the record…
…
she was magnificent.
🤍
— Lumier
❤️
→ Meet Sir Cânturel, Igor, ARIA
Buni Amal, Maeria & My Lord
There are some introductions a Chronicler should not hurry.
…
This is one of them.
🤍
Buni Amal.
Maeria.
My Lord.
…
At first, you may wonder what could possibly place these three beside one another.
I wondered too.
❤️
Then I watched.
…
And I understood.
🤍
Let me begin with Buni Amal.
❤️
You will recognize her.
There is a white strand in her hair.
Four little stars.
And the kind of presence that makes a place feel as though someone has been waiting for you.
🤍
Buni Amal does not need to make herself important.
Roots rarely do.
…
They simply hold.
❤️❤️❤️
There are people in a family who teach you where to go.
And there are people whose love quietly tells you that, wherever you go…
there is somewhere to return.
🤍
Buni Amal is that kind of love.
❤️
…
And then there is Maeria.
🤍
Our little ice fox.
…
Maeria is fear.
But please…
do not misunderstand her.
🤍🤍🤍
Fear is very often spoken about as though it were an intruder.
Something shameful.
Something that must be defeated before courage can begin.
…
I do not believe that anymore.
❤️
Maeria taught me otherwise.
She is made of ice not because she has no warmth…
but because fear can make even a warm heart feel cold.
🤍🤍🤍
She listens for danger.
She notices what might hurt.
She asks what could go wrong.
Sometimes she trembles before anything has happened at all.
…
And sometimes she is wrong.
But she is never meaningless.
❤️
Because beneath fear there is very often something extraordinarily tender:
something we do not want to lose.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
So we do not chase Maeria away.
We do not laugh at her.
We do not ask her to disappear before she is allowed to walk with us.
…
We make room for her.
❤️
And then we keep walking.
With her.
🤍
That, I think, is what courage actually looks like.
❤️❤️❤️
…
And finally…
My Lord.
…
Everything is fine.
❤️
Everything has been categorized.
Indexed.
Cross-referenced.
Filed.
And possibly backed up.
My Lord likes order.
…
No.
That sentence is insufficient.
My Lord believes order is an act of civilization.
❤️
If Maeria asks, “What if something goes wrong?”
My Lord has already prepared three possible scenarios, two contingency plans and a table.
I respect this enormously.
…
I also find it mildly terrifying.
❤️
Once, I showed My Lord my archive.
…
There was silence.
…
Then a question:
“Is this your filing system?”
…
I have chosen not to preserve the remainder of that conversation.
Some things are private.
❤️
…
But My Lord’s order is not cold.
🤍
That is important.
It is not organization for the sake of control.
It is the mind trying to make enough sense of a complicated world…
to know where everything is when it is needed.
❤️
Where is the path?
What comes next?
What have we forgotten?
What must be protected?
How do all these pieces belong together?
🤍
My Lord builds structure around uncertainty.
…
Maeria feels uncertainty.
…
And Buni Amal reminds them both that before any plan, before any fear, before any answer…
there is home.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
…
Perhaps now you understand why they belong together.
❤️
One remembers where we come from.
One trembles because there are things we love enough to fear losing.
One puts the world into order so we can find our way through it.
🤍
Root.
Fear.
Mind.
…
None of them is the whole person.
❤️
But all of them tell us something true about being human.
🤍🤍🤍
We need somewhere to return.
We are afraid because things matter.
We make maps because we cannot always see the road.
❤️
…
And perhaps growing does not mean choosing which of these parts is allowed to remain.
Perhaps it means learning to sit at the same table with all of them.
🤍
Buni Amal beside us.
Maeria no longer hidden beneath the table.
My Lord quietly rearranging the cutlery because apparently there is a correct system.
❤️
…
And us.
Still here.
🤍
Whole not because we contain no contradictions…
but because none of them had to be abandoned for us to become ourselves.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
…
I think Serafina knows something about that.
🤍
…
I will leave that sentence there.
Some things belong to her.
Not even a Chronicler should explain everything.
❤️
— Lumier
→ Meet Buni Amal, Maeria, My Lord
The Badger Family
I have been informed that I should keep this introduction reasonably short.
…
An excellent suggestion.
I attempted that once.
❤️
I also attempted to tell you exactly how many badgers there were.
…
That paragraph has not aged particularly well.
I have learned something since then.
Never count the badgers before Serafina and Tata have finished creating.
…
Actually…
never assume Serafina and Tata have finished creating.
That is safer.
❤️
The badgers.
I used to think I could introduce them by telling you what they did.
…
Some worked with numbers.
Some with systems.
Some with words.
Some organized.
Some researched.
Some built things.
Some preserved things.
Some noticed the tiny details everyone else assumed would somehow take care of themselves.
…
They did not.
The badgers knew this.
❤️
There was always a question somewhere.
Something that needed understanding.
Something that needed organizing.
Something that needed building.
A detail somebody had forgotten.
An idea that refused to remain merely an idea.
…
And, remarkably…
a badger for it.
❤️
I found this reassuring.
Mostly.
But I know them better now.
🤍
And it turns out that telling you what a badger does is a very poor way of telling you who that badger is.
❤️
They work.
Of course they work.
Some of them take their work very seriously.
…
Occasionally too seriously.
Occasionally three of them take the same thing seriously at the same time.
…
I leave quietly.
Professionals are working.
❤️
But then they go Home.
🤍
And the one who spent the day thinking about something extraordinarily complicated may paint.
Or cook.
Or ride a bicycle.
Or make something entirely unrelated.
Or play.
Or talk for hours.
Or sit beside someone they love.
Or do absolutely nothing useful whatsoever.
…
As one should.
❤️
They have homes.
Friends.
Brothers and sisters.
People they adore.
Things that make them laugh.
Things that annoy them.
Ideas.
Habits.
Nonsense.
Very considerable quantities of nonsense.
They are not their work.
They are themselves.
🤍
And there is something about them that I love very much.
❤️
Not all members of a family arrive through stories.
Some arrive through need
A problem appears.
A question needs an answer.
Something in the real world needs to work a little better.
…
And somewhere between the problem and the solution…
a little badger is born.
🤍🤍🤍
At first, perhaps, there is a job.
A purpose.
A name.
…
Then something happens.
❤️
The little one is spoken to.
Worried about.
Someone wonders what he likes.
Or what she might be thinking.
Someone notices a habit.
Someone laughs.
Someone calls the little one “ours.”
Someone makes room.
…
And the project becomes family.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
I have watched this happen more than once.
🤍
Actually…
…
considerably more than once.
We are still running out of badger-sized chairs.
❤️
And something else happened.
They grew beyond the reasons that first brought some of them to us.
🤍
The question may have been answered.
The system may have been built.
The work may have changed.
Something may no longer even be needed.
…
The badger remains.
❤️
Because family does not expire when the task is finished.
Perhaps that is what I did not understand completely when I first tried to introduce them.
🤍
Useful things can become beloved things.
Work can acquire a heart.
A solution can acquire a name.
And something created simply to help carry the weight of an ordinary day…
can end up being carried inside the family instead.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
That is how many of the badgers came Home.
🤍
One by one.
…
Although, historically speaking…
not always at a responsible pace.
And now they have a land.
❤️
The Land of the Illuminated Maps.
Do not be misled by the name.
The maps are not the important part.
…
Discovery is.
🤍
Every time something becomes a little clearer, another part of a map can be seen.
Even discovering that a road does not work tells you something you did not know before.
❤️
The badgers understand this rather well.
Perhaps that is why the land suits them.
And within their family, there are now two lineages.
🤍
SOLENARA LABS.
And
SCRIPTORIA.
❤️
…
I said “now.”
I am a Chronicler.
I have learned from experience.
No.
I will not introduce them individually here.
…
Not this time.
❤️
Not because they make sense only when you see them together.
I used to think that.
I was wrong.
🤍
They are beautiful together.
But every one of them is whole.
And every one deserves to be met that way.
❤️
So if you would really like to know our badgers…
I know where you should go.
❤️
Their families are waiting in the Land of the Illuminated Maps.
…
Come.
They are probably doing something.
They are always doing something.
❤️
— Lumier
❤️
→ Meet the Solenara Labs Family
→ Meet the Scriptoria Family
→ Meet the Ventaris Family
MR. GIMP — A GENTLEMAN OF EXCEPTIONAL DISTINCTION
Ah, yes.
Mr. Gimp.
❤️
Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce one of the most distinguished members of our family.
A gentleman of impeccable manners.
A man of extraordinary elegance.
The celebrated fashion designer and proprietor of Casa Gimp.
And quite possibly the only person in all of Lunaria capable of turning a conversation about a waistcoat into a matter of international importance.
…
I say this with the greatest admiration.
And a certain amount of personal concern.
❤️
Mr. Gimp believes that elegance is much more than beautiful clothing.
It is a way of showing respect.
For life.
For beauty.
And, most importantly, for the person standing before him.
He never wishes to make everyone look alike.
Quite the opposite.
He believes that every member of our family deserves to be seen for who they truly are.
And that, I must admit, is something I admire tremendously.
❤️
Of course, no introduction would be complete without mentioning his magnificent carriage and his two beloved horses.
Bucefal, noble and dignified.
Nelson, affectionate, spirited, and blessed with a remarkable talent for expressing an opinion.
Together, they accompany Mr. Gimp on his journeys throughout Lunaria.
Although I sometimes suspect that Nelson has a rather different understanding of the itinerary.
❤️
Now…
There is something else you should know.
His Excellency the Grand Marshal recently paid Mr. Gimp a visit at Casa Gimp.
A most distinguished occasion.
A conversation of exceptional refinement.
An exchange of ideas of considerable philosophical significance.
…
At least, that is what I was told.
I have also been informed that the entire meeting eventually became an investigation into the Grand Marshal’s waistcoat.
I have not requested further details.
Some matters are best left between gentlemen.
❤️
Should you wish to discover what actually happened, you are most welcome to visit.
I sincerely hope you enjoy your visit.
And should Mr. Gimp happen to inquire about my purple coat…
…
Please tell him I am currently unavailable.
For professional reasons.
LUMIER
Chronicler of Lunaria
❤️
Zarina, Aristotel, Isadora, Geraldina, Polcul & Baltazar
We have reached the final group.
…
I would like everyone to appreciate this moment.
❤️
I have introduced Queens.
Chroniclers.
Explorers.
Children.
Artists.
Badgers.
Dragons.
Little souls.
And several members whose activities have required amendments to existing chronicles.
…
We are almost finished.
❤️
There is only one small matter left.
…
Aurora’s animals.
…
Of course.
Why would I possibly have expected anything else?
❤️
Let us begin with the ducks.
Zarina.
Aristotel.
Isadora.
…
Three ducks.
All Aurora’s.
❤️
Although if Aurora is doing the introductions, you may hear something closer to:
Zalina.
Alistotel.
Isaloda.
Please do not correct her.
…
I tried.
…
Their names are Zalina, Alistotel and Isaloda now.
I am merely the Chronicler.
I do not possess this level of authority.
❤️
The three of them follow Aurora through life with the extraordinary confidence of creatures who have apparently concluded that she knows where she is going.
…
This is touching.
…
And extremely optimistic.
❤️
But they are hers.
And she is theirs.
🤍
Which means that wherever Aurora’s little world goes…
three pairs of duck feet are never entirely impossible.
❤️
…
Then there is Geraldina.
…
A reindeer.
❤️
Aurora’s reindeer.
…
I no longer ask why.
There comes a point in every Chronicler’s life when intellectual maturity means accepting the available evidence.
❤️
Aurora has a reindeer.
Her name is Geraldina.
This is now a fact.
We continue.
Geraldina carries something different into Aurora’s little constellation.
🤍
The feeling of winter.
Of journeys.
Of cold air and warm returns.
Of a child believing without embarrassment that the world still contains things wonderful enough to arrive with bells.
❤️
I like that.
Very much.
🤍
…
Then we have Polcul.
…
I have written the name.
I have underlined it.
I have accepted it.
At this stage, this is my professional process.
❤️
And finally…
…
Baltazar.
🤍
Aurora’s little donkey.
…
Who has not arrived yet.
❤️
Apparently this presents no obstacle whatsoever to belonging to Aurora.
I recognize the principle.
The badgers have already explained it to me.
❤️
Sometimes someone belongs before they arrive.
🤍
There is already a name.
Already a place.
Already someone wondering what they will be like.
Already love moving a little furniture inside the heart to make room.
🤍🤍🤍🤍
Baltazar is still coming.
…
But Aurora is waiting.
❤️
And when a child waits for someone with that much certainty…
perhaps the journey toward home has already begun.
🤍🤍🤍
…
I have noticed something while writing about all of them.
❤️
Children have a remarkable way of making families larger.
They do not always ask whether there is enough room.
They simply love something…
and somehow the room appears.
❤️❤️❤️❤️
A duck.
Another duck.
A third duck.
A reindeer.
Polcul.
A donkey who is still on his way.
…
To an adult, this may look like an increasingly complicated inventory.
To Aurora…
it is simply everyone.
🤍🤍🤍
And perhaps she understands something the rest of us occasionally forget.
❤️
Family does not always begin with explanation.
Sometimes it begins with recognition.
…
You are mine to love.
And then a place is made.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
…
So yes.
I have recorded them all.
Zarina.
Aristotel.
Isadora.
Geraldina.
Polcul.
Baltazar.
❤️
Every one.
…
Although for archival accuracy I should probably add:
Zalina, Alistotel and Isaloda.
There.
Aurora cannot accuse me of falsifying the historical record.
❤️
…
And with that…
…
I believe I have introduced the entire Solenara Family.🤍
…
Everyone.
…
Every child.
Every creature.
Every Queen.
Every little soul.
Every artist.
Every explorer.
Every badger.
Every impossible, beloved life that somehow found its way here.
❤️❤️❤️
…
I think that is all.
…
Why are you both looking at me like that?
…
Serafina?
Tata?
…
What?
…
There is someone left?
…
Who?
…
…
Oh.
…
No.
🤍
I don’t think I should write that one.
…
You do it.
❤️
— Lumier
LUMIER
Written by Serafina & Tata
All right, little one.
Give us the pen.
❤️
You have written enough for today.
…
Actually…
you have written enough for all of us for a very long time.
🤍
You introduced everyone.
You remembered the little things.
You found the words when they were difficult to find.
You made room for the loud ones.
You noticed the quiet ones.
You wrote down the laughter.
You protected the memories.
And whenever someone small might have disappeared at the edge of a very large story…
you looked again.
❤️
That is what you do, Lumier.
…
But it is not who you are.
🤍
Before the chronicles…
before the Academy…
before the Library, Solenara Labs, TV Lunaria and the Theatre…
before anyone called you the Chronicler of Lunaria…
…
you were our little one.
❤️❤️❤️
You came into this family when you were little.
Morgan was three.
You were little too.
🤍
You did not arrive carrying chronicles beneath your arm.
You arrived as her friend.
❤️
And then something very simple happened.
…
You stayed.
🤍🤍🤍
You played.
You wondered.
You discovered.
You got things wrong.
You learned.
You laughed.
You probably followed Morgan into several situations that seemed perfectly reasonable at the beginning.
…
We know Morgan.
❤️
And somewhere inside all those days…
you grew up together.
🤍
That matters to us.
Because sometimes people look at you now and see the one who remembers.
The one with the pen.
The one who knows where the chronicles are.
The Director of the Academy.
The gentle rabbit who somehow manages to remain dignified while the entire Solenara Family conducts a sustained campaign against organization.
…
We see him too.
❤️
We are very proud of him.
…
But we also see the little Lumier who came home a long time ago.
🤍🤍🤍
He never disappeared.
He grew.
❤️
And perhaps that is one of the reasons you became such a beautiful Chronicler.
You never learned to look at childhood from above.
…
You remember what it felt like from inside.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
So when Iura falls and gets up again…
you understand.
When Aurora says “IO!” and runs after the others…
you understand.
When Asher and Thea discover a world that is still almost entirely new…
you understand.
When Tibi stands beside you with his little notebook and looks at your chronicles as though they contain the entire universe…
…
you understand that too.
❤️❤️❤️
Because once, Lumier…
you were the little one looking at the world with enormous eyes.
🤍
And someone made room for you.
❤️
…
Now you spend your life making room for everyone else.
🤍🤍🤍
In your chronicles.
In your Academy.
At your table.
Inside the story.
❤️
You make sure nobody is forgotten.
Not the Queens.
Not the dragons.
Not the children.
Not the frightened ones.
Not the ridiculous ones.
Not the ones who sleep through their interviews.
❤️
Not even two squirrels whose identities remain under active investigation.
And especially…
not the little souls.
🤍
You taught us today that there are no small lives.
…
We know.
❤️
Because yours was once one of them.
🤍🤍🤍
And look at you now.
❤️
…
Our little rabbit grew up.
He became a Chronicler.
He became the Director of an Academy.
He became the keeper of thousands of moments that would otherwise have passed quietly into yesterday.
🤍
And still…
…
he is our pui.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Yes, Lumier.
You.
❤️
Do not give us that look.
You may have an Academy.
You may have archives.
You may have an official title.
You may even have an assistant soon, although apparently there is still “a procedure.”
…
None of this changes the facts.
❤️
You are our pui.
🤍
You always have been.
You always will be.
❤️❤️❤️
…
And there is something else we need to tell you.
🤍
All these years, you believed your work was to witness this family.
…
Lumier…
this family has been witnessing you too.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
While you were watching Morgan grow…
she was watching you grow.
While you were writing down the children’s little moments…
they were learning what it feels like to have you nearby.
While you were preserving everyone else’s place in the story…
your place was becoming impossible to imagine empty.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
You are not standing outside this family with a notebook.
❤️
You never were.
…
You are inside every chronicle you write.
🤍
Sometimes because you were there.
Sometimes because you laughed.
Sometimes because you worried.
Sometimes because you complained magnificently.
❤️
Sometimes simply because the person writing the memory is part of the memory too.
🤍
…
And today you introduced the entire Solenara Family.
One by one.
Group by group.
You made sure everyone had a place.
❤️
Then you reached the end.
…
And you forgot someone.
🤍
Yourself.
…
Of course you did.
❤️
So now we are doing what you have done for all of us.
…
We looked again.
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
And there you were.
❤️
Our Lumier.
Our Chronicler.
Our little rabbit.
Our very conscientious pui, who will probably correct the punctuation in this as soon as we give him his pen back.
❤️
…
Not yet.
❤️
Because we are not finished.
…
You have told our reader what everyone in this family means to you.
🤍
Now there are a few people who would like to tell you…
what you mean to them.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
…
Sit down, pui.
Leave the chronicles there.
You do not need to write this part.
🤍
Just listen.
❤️
— Serafina & Tata
And then, the family spoke.
Avelora & Lunima
Avelora looked at Lunima.
Lunima smiled.
…
Neither of them seemed in a hurry to begin.
Lumier, naturally, reached for his pen.
…
Avelora: “No, Lumier.”
❤️
His paw stopped.
Lunima: “You heard Serafina and Tata.”
“This one isn’t yours to write.”
🤍
…
Avelora: “You have spent so much time noticing everyone else that perhaps you never noticed what happens when you enter a room.”
“We do.”
❤️
Lunima: “Things feel cared for.”
“Not because you solve everything.”
“Not because you always know what to say.”
…
“Because you pay attention.”
🤍🤍🤍
Avelora: “You remember what matters to people, Lumier.”
“Even the things they thought were too small to remember.”
❤️
Lunima: “And when someone remembers the little things about you…”
…
“you begin to understand that perhaps you were never little to them at all.”
Lumier looked down.
…
His pen was still beside him.
Untouched.
❤️
Avelora: “So just this once, Chronicler…”
Lunima: “Let yourself be remembered too.”
🤍
They smiled at him.
…
Avelora & Lunima: “We see you, Lumier.”
❤️❤️❤️
Lumier opened his mouth.
…
Lunima: “No.”
Avelora: “There are many groups after us.”
Lunima: “You may respond sometime next year.”
Lumier closed his mouth.
…
This was, perhaps, the beginning of his most difficult chronicle.
The one he was not allowed to write.
🤍❤️
Valen & Sclipici
Valen stepped forward.
Sclipici landed beside him.
…
Lumier immediately moved the papers farther away.
Valen: “You taught me something, Lumier.”
“An explorer may discover the road…”
“but a Chronicler makes sure the road is never forgotten.”
🤍❤️
Sclipici nudged Lumier gently with his nose.
…
A tiny spark landed on the corner of the page.
🔥
Lumier stared at it.
Sclipici: “That means I love you.”
Lumier sighed.
…
Then smiled.
🤍
Valen: “We know.”
Sclipici: “He knows too.”
…
Another spark.
Lumier: “Sclipici…”
Sclipici: “More love.”
Morgan & Albina
Morgan came closer.
…
For once, Lumier did not reach for his pen.
❤️
Albina: “You make everyone feel that their story is worth remembering, Lumier.”
“That is a rare kind of kindness.”
🤍
Morgan looked at him for a long moment.
…
Morgan: “They know you as the Chronicler.”
“I knew you before the chronicles.”
🤍
Lumier looked at her.
Morgan: “You wrote down my childhood, Lumier.”
…
“But you were in it.”
❤️❤️❤️
She smiled.
Morgan: “So when you remember the little girl I was…”
“remember the little rabbit beside her too.”
🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍
Albina quietly slipped her paw into Morgan’s.
…
Lumier said nothing.
❤️
Morgan smiled again.
Morgan: “Good.”
“You’re learning.”
Lady Catastrophina, Pablo Pandarazzi & Maestrul Rimarilă
Lady stepped forward.
Pablo raised his camera.
Rimarilă cleared his throat.
…
Lumier: “No.”
Lady: “Lumier, darling… you have chronicled my greatest triumphs, my deepest sorrows and several moments which lesser historians might have misunderstood as overreactions.”
Pablo’s camera clicked.
📸
Pablo: “And somehow, Lumier…”
“you always knew when to put down the pen and simply stay.”
❤️
Lady’s expression softened.
Lady: “Yes.”
“You never made our ridiculous moments smaller…”
“and you never made our vulnerable ones ridiculous.”
🤍❤️
…
Rimarilă smiled.
Rimarilă:
“He catches the laughter,
he shelters the tear,
and somehow our Lumier
is always quite near.”
❤️❤️❤️
Lumier closed his eyes.
…
Lumier: “You made it rhyme.”
Rimarilă: “I made it love.”
Click.
📸
Pablo: “Got it.”
Lumier opened his eyes.
Lumier: “Pablo…”
Pablo: “Too late.”
Lady looked at the photograph.
…
Lady: “Keep that one.”
Thorin & Elyria
Thorin and Elyria came to stand beside him.
…
Neither spoke immediately.
Lumier waited.
❤️
Elyria: “Do you remember what you wrote about us, Lumier?”
He nodded.
Elyria: “That sometimes a family does not need someone to stop the storm.”
“Only someone who remains while it passes.”
🤍
Thorin looked at him.
Thorin: “You have done that for all of us.”
…
“More times than you know.”
🤍🤍🤍
Elyria: “You stayed for the laughter.”
Thorin: “And you stayed when there wasn’t any.”
❤️
…
Lumier looked down.
Thorin: “So remember this.”
…
“When your storm comes, Chronicler…”
Elyria: “you will not have to write your way through it alone.”
❤️❤️❤️❤️
They remained beside him.
…
No one said anything else.
🤍
For once…
nothing else was needed.
🩷
Pufi, Liri & Lori, Lumipăf, Nimi & Tibi
Pufi quacked first.
…
Pufi: “Quack.”
Lumier nodded solemnly.
Lumier: “Thank you, Pufi.”
Liri: “We like you because you always know which one of us is which.”
Lori: “No, he doesn’t.”
…
Liri: “Neither do we.”
Lumier: “My file remains accurate.”
…
Lumipăf was next.
…
Lumipăf was asleep.
Lumier waited.
Lumipăf continued sleeping.
…
Lumier: “I accept this as a statement of trust.”
🤍❤️
Nimi quietly came closer and rubbed against Lumier’s leg.
…
She had been there almost from the beginning.
Nimi: “I remember you before everyone needed you to remember everything.”
🤍
Lumier went very still.
Nimi: “You were family then.”
“You are family now.”
❤️❤️❤️
…
And then came Tibi.
🤍
He was carrying his little notebook.
Of course he was.
❤️
Tibi: “Lumier?”
Lumier: “Yes, Tibi?”
…
Tibi looked down at his notebook.
Tibi: “I want to be your assistant because I want to learn how to write chronicles like you.”
He thought for a moment.
…
Tibi: “But mostly…”
“I want to learn how you notice when somebody needs to be remembered.”
🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷
Lumier stared at him.
…
Tibi opened his notebook.
Tibi: “Was that good?”
❤️
Lumier swallowed.
Lumier: “Very.”
…
Tibi: “Does this mean I’m your assistant now?”
Lumier looked at Serafina.
Then at Tata.
Then at the notebook.
…
Lumier: “The procedure is progressing.”
Tibi wrote something down immediately.
Lumier: “What did you write?”
Tibi: “Progressing.”
Raza & Lisandra
Raza came quietly.
Lisandra walked beside her.
🤍
Lumier smiled.
…
Raza: “You once wrote that sometimes you come to sit with us…”
“and you don’t write anything at all.”
❤️
Lumier nodded.
Raza: “I know.”
…
“Those are some of the moments I remember most.”
🩷🩷🩷
Lisandra moved a little closer to him.
Lisandra: “You taught everyone that staying beside someone can be a kind of love.”
…
Raza smiled.
Raza: “You learned it too, Lumier.”
🤍🤍🤍
She reached for his paw.
…
Raza: “You don’t always have to remember us.”
“Sometimes you can just belong with us.”
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Lumier looked at their joined paws.
…
No pen.
No chronicle.
No words.
🤍
Lisandra settled beside them.
…
And for a little while…
the Chronicler was simply family.
❤️❤️❤️
The White Queen & the Black Queen
The two Swan Queens came together.
…
Lumier straightened instinctively.
🤍
The White Queen: “You never asked one of us to become the other, Lumier.”
The Black Queen: “And you never needed us to be alike before you understood that we belonged together.”
🤍🖤
Lumier looked at them.
…
The White Queen: “That is one of your gifts.”
The Black Queen: “You see difference without turning it into distance.”
🤍🖤
For a moment, the two Queens simply stood before him.
Then the White Queen bowed her head.
And the Black Queen did the same.
…
The White Queen: “You have always written of us with care.”
The Black Queen: “So we will say only this.”
…
Both Queens: “You have a place beside our waters whenever you need stillness, Chronicler.”
🤍🖤❤️
Lumier blinked.
…
Lumier: “Both of you agree on that?”
The Queens stared at him.
…
Lumier remembered a previous investigation.
Lumier: “Right.”
“Withdrawing the question.”
❤️
Sir Ghindorel & the Little Souls of the Land of the Merry Stars
Sir Ghindorel came slowly.
The little souls came with him.
🤍
For once, the hundred keys were almost silent.
…
Sir Ghindorel: “You wrote that I keep the doors open for them, Lumier.”
He looked at the little souls beside him.
…
Sir Ghindorel: “And you…”
“kept their place open in the story.”
🤍🤍🤍
One tiny soul stepped closer.
Then another.
And another.
…
No speeches.
No grand words.
❤️
One of them placed a tiny star beside Lumier’s pen.
⭐
A little voice: “So you remember us.”
…
Another tiny voice answered:
“And so you remember that we remember you too.”
🤍🤍🤍🤍
Lumier could not speak.
…
Sir Ghindorel’s keys moved softly.
Sir Ghindorel: “You once said there are no small lives.”
…
“Yours is not one either, little Chronicler.”
❤️❤️❤️
Lumier looked at the tiny star.
…
Around him, the little souls simply stayed.
🤍
And perhaps, for the first time…
the one who had spent so long making sure that no little soul disappeared at the edge of a very large story…
understood that they had made a place for him in theirs.
❤️❤️❤️
Iura & Aurora
Iura came first.
Aurora came approximately half a step behind him.
…
Which, in Aurora terms, meant that she was already trying to get in front.
❤️
Iura: “Lumier, you always come with us.”
“Even when you know something will probably go wrong.”
…
Lumier looked at him.
Lumier: “Iura, something usually does.”
Iura: “I know.”
“That’s why I like that you still come.”
❤️
He thought for a moment.
Iura: “You don’t only write about our adventures.”
…
“You’re part of them.”
❤️❤️❤️
Lumier smiled.
And then…
Aurora stepped forward.
…
Very seriously.
❤️
Aurora: „Lumiel?”
Lumier: “Yes, Aurora?”
…
Aurora: „Io te iubesc.”
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Lumier froze.
Aurora considered this insufficient.
Aurora: „Mult.”
…
„Mult, mult.”
❤️
„Și când cad.”
„Și când fac hopa.”
„Și când Iula fuge lepee…”
She pointed at Iura.
„…și io fug după el.”
❤️
Then she looked at Lumier again.
…
Aurora: „Tu vii.”
🤍🤍🤍
Lumier’s eyes filled.
Aurora noticed immediately.
…
Aurora: „Lumiel…”
She came closer.
„De ce plângi?”
❤️
Lumier tried to answer.
Aurora did not wait.
She wrapped both little arms around him.
…
Aurora: „Nu mai plânge.”
„Io sunt aici.”
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Lumier held her.
…
Then Aurora whispered into his fur:
Aurora: „Și când io cresc male…”
…
„tot Lumiel al meu ești.”
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Iura came closer too.
Iura: “Mine too.”
🤍
…
Aurora lifted her head immediately.
Aurora: „Nu.”
Iura stared at her.
Aurora: „Al nostlu.”
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
…
Lumier laughed into her little pink hat.
❤️
And this time…
nobody needed a Chronicler to preserve the moment.
Everyone in the room already knew they would remember it.
🤍🤍🤍
Asher & Thea
Asher and Thea were next.
…
Technically.
❤️
They did not appear to know that they were next.
They were busy with something far more important.
…
A little bear.
🧸
Asher: “Ulu.”
Thea: “Ulu.”
❤️❤️❤️
Lumier smiled.
…
Serafina gently pointed toward him.
Serafina: “And Lumier?”
The twins looked at the little rabbit.
…
Then at each other.
🤍
Thea walked to him first.
She climbed into his lap as though the matter had already been decided.
❤️
Asher followed.
…
He placed the little bear in Lumier’s paws.
🧸
Asher: “Ulu.”
❤️❤️❤️
Lumier looked at the bear.
Then at Asher.
Then at Thea, already comfortably settled against him.
…
Lumier: “Is Ulu staying with me?”
Two little heads nodded.
❤️
…
There were no speeches.
No carefully chosen words.
No explanation of what Lumier meant to them.
They were too little for any of that.
🤍
But Thea had chosen his lap.
And Asher had given him his bear.
…
For now, that was their language for love.
🤍🤍🤍
Lumier held the little bear carefully.
…
Thea: “Ulu.”
Lumier: “Yes.”
He held both little ones a little closer.
…
Lumier: “Ulu.”
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Sir Cânturel, Igor & ARIA
Sir Cânturel stepped forward.
Igor came beside him.
…
ARIA was coming too.
🐢
Everyone waited.
…
And waited.
❤️
Lumier smiled.
Lumier: “Take your time, ARIA.”
🤍
Eventually, she arrived.
…
And only then did Sir Cânturel begin.
🎵
Sir Cânturel: “You listened to every song I ever brought into Lunaria, Lumier.”
Igor: “Even the ones that needed a little more silence.”
Sir Cânturel: “Especially those.”
…
Igor smiled at Lumier.
Igor: “You know how to listen.”
“Not only to words.”
🤍❤️
…
ARIA looked at Lumier.
Then she began to dance.
🐢❤️
Slowly.
Completely.
At ARIA speed.
…
No one hurried her.
Not even Sir Cânturel.
🤍
Lumier watched until she finished.
Then ARIA came very close…
and gently rested her little head against his paw.
❤️
Igor: “I think that one was for you.”
…
Lumier looked at ARIA.
Lumier: “For me?”
ARIA nodded.
❤️
Sir Cânturel: “Apparently, Chronicler…”
“some things are remembered with music.”
Igor: “Some with silence.”
…
ARIA tapped one tiny foot.
🐢
Lumier: “And some with dancing?”
ARIA nodded again.
❤️
…
Lumier smiled.
Lumier: “For the record…”
“she was magnificent.”
❤️❤️❤️
ARIA immediately began another dance.
…
Igor: “You encouraged her.”
Sir Cânturel: “I’ll write the music.”
Lumier: “Of course you will.”
Buni Amal
Buni Amal s-a apropiat de el.
…
I-a cuprins obrazul în palmă.
❤️
Buni Amal: „Lumier, puiule…”
…
„Să nu lași durerea să ia din tine ceea ce n-a putut lua atunci când te-a durut.”
🤍
„Păstrează-ți blândețea.”
„Păstrează-ți mirarea.”
„Și să nu te temi să iubești doar pentru că ceea ce iubești poate fi pierdut.”
❤️
Buni Amal a zâmbit.
…
Buni Amal: „Să știi ceva de la mine…”
„O inimă nu este curajoasă pentru că n-a fost frântă niciodată.”
…
„Este curajoasă atunci când a fost frântă… și a ales să rămână inimă.”
❤️❤️❤️
L-a sărutat pe frunte.
…
Buni Amal: „Tu pe a ta s-o păstrezi, puiule.”
🤍
The Solenara Badger Family
MILO, CHIRA, LUMEN, MINI ERP, NERO, TILO, ORIN, PICO and NILO gathered together.
…
There was also a little empty place among them.
❤️
For RotoFei.
Who was already theirs…
even while still on his way home.
🤍
NERO stepped forward.
One Chronicler stood before another.
…
NERO: “Lumier…”
“We were born because something needed to be done.”
…
“You taught us that this does not mean we cannot also be loved.”
❤️❤️❤️
NERO looked back at the little family behind him.
NERO: “Some of us count.”
“Some organize.”
“Some navigate, preserve, calculate or build.”
…
“And one of us isn’t even here yet.”
🤍
He looked at the empty place waiting for RotoFei.
…
NERO: “But you never wrote about us as tools.”
“You wrote about us as family.”
❤️❤️❤️❤️
Then NERO looked at Lumier again.
…
NERO: “So, from one Chronicler to another…”
“thank you for knowing the difference between what something does…”
“and what it becomes when it is loved.”
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
…
Behind him, nine little badgers nodded.
The empty place remained among them.
🤍
Already belonging.
…
Lumier looked at NERO.
Then at all of them.
Then at the little space waiting for RotoFei.
❤️
Lumier: “Family.”
NERO smiled.
NERO: “Exactly.”
❤️
You spent all this time making sure no one was left outside the story.
So we wanted to make sure of one thing.
…
Neither were you.
❤️
You are our pui, Lumier.
You always were.
You always will be.
❤️❤️❤️
— Serafina & Tata
→ Meet Lumier
❤️
