Spoiled

In the vast spaces between worlds, where the newborn stars still hum lullabies, a young soul sat cross-legged on a cloud made of nothing and everything. Her name was Irina, and she had just begun her journey.

Beside her, older than time and yet light as laughter, was her guide. No one remembered his true name; he answered to many. Today, Irina called him Saro.

Irina was restless. She had just returned from her first Walk among mortals and her glow was a little dimmed. Saro watched her fidget and asked, his voice like a river over stones,

"Who clouded your spirit, little one?"

"Am I..." Irina hesitated, "spoiled?"

Saro laughed, a sound that made nearby comets curve a little closer to listen.

"Of course you are," he said, "because I made sure you would be."

Irina blinked, confused.

"Listen well," Saro said, drawing a spiral in the mist with his fingertip. "To be spoiled, in the good way, is to be given with joy: love without measure, protection without resentment, gifts given for the delight they bring. I wanted you to know abundance, so you would never mistake scraps for feasts."

He paused.

"But spoiled in the bad way..." and here his voice softened, "is when the soul forgets gratitude. When it demands without seeing, when it believes it is owed instead of blessed."

Irina nodded slowly. The mist spiral gleamed and spun.

"You see," Saro continued, "those who truly love to give, fathers, mothers, guides, companions, they find pride in your glow. Your laughter feeds their spirit. A man or woman who calls you 'spoiled' as an insult is only revealing their own fear of not being enough, or their desire to make you smaller."

"Should I never listen to them?" Irina asked.

"Listen," Saro said, "but do not follow. Those who give with an open hand will call you blessed. Those who give with a closed fist will call you spoiled. Learn to tell the difference."

Around them, stars blinked in silent applause.

"And remember," Saro said, smiling now, "being cherished is not weakness. But character is built not by gifts received, but by what you do with them."

Irina felt her glow grow steadier. She stood, brushing stardust from her knees.

"Thank you," she said simply.

Saro bowed in return, a guide proud of a soul beginning to remember her own light.