Chapter 1

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DEDICATION For every child whose heart-eyes see what others miss.

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Ayla Taheri was seven years old, and she had a secret power.

Not the kind of power that lets you fly or turn invisible. Ayla's power was quieter than that. She could see when people were sad, even when they were smiling.

Mama called it "the eyes of the heart." She said some people see with their regular eyes, but special people also see with the eyes inside — the ones that notice feelings.

Right now, Ayla's heart-eyes were telling her something about the new girl in her class.

The new girl's name was Harper. She had red hair in two braids and she smiled at everyone. She laughed at all the teacher's jokes. She raised her hand to answer questions.

But Ayla could see it. Behind the smile, Harper was afraid.

"Why does the new girl look scared?" Ayla asked her big brother Darian at lunch. Darian was twelve and very smart about people.

"Maybe she's pretending to be happy so nobody knows she's nervous," said Darian. "Moving to a new school is hard."

"What should I do?"

Darian thought about this. He was in a junior youth group and they talked about things like this all the time. "Don't just ask her if she's okay. That might embarrass her. Instead, show her she belongs. Include her. Make her feel welcome without making a big deal about it."

Ayla nodded. She had a plan.

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The next day, Ayla put her plan into action.

At recess, she walked up to Harper and said, "We need one more person for our game. Want to play?"

It wasn't exactly true — they didn't need one more person. But Ayla had learned from her parents that sometimes a small act of welcome can change someone's whole day.

Harper's face lit up. "Really? Yes!"

They played together — Ayla, Harper, and Ayla's friends Kai and Priya. (Kai was the same Kai who had moved to town last year. He knew exactly what it felt like to be new.)

"You're really funny," Ayla told her.

Ayla's heart-eyes saw it again — that flash of sadness behind the smile.

"I like funny Harper," said Ayla carefully. "But I bet I'd like real Harper too."

Harper looked at her for a long time. Then she said, "My parents just got divorced. That's why we moved. I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me, so I just... act happy."

"You don't have to act anything around us," said Ayla.

And something in Harper's shoulders relaxed — like she'd been carrying a heavy backpack and someone had finally helped her set it down.

That afternoon, at children's class, the teacher talked about the virtue of compassion — feeling with someone, not just feeling for them. Ayla raised her hand.

"I think compassion means seeing people for who they really are," she said. "Not just the face they show the world."

The teacher smiled. "That's beautiful, Ayla. Where did you learn that?"

"From my heart-eyes," said Ayla.

Nobody understood what she meant. But that was okay. She did.

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Kai, who remembered being the new kid, started sitting with other new students at lunch. Priya organized a "welcome committee" that made cards for anyone who joined the class. Even Mrs. Patterson, their teacher, started each morning with a "kindness check-in" where students could share something nice they'd seen.

"It's like you started something," Darian told Ayla one evening. They were at the Nineteen Day Feast, sitting together during the social portion while the adults talked over tea.

"I just talked to Harper," said Ayla. "Anyone could have done it."

"But you did it," said Darian. "That's the difference. In my junior youth group, we read about how one candle can light a whole room. You were the candle."

"If I'm a candle, what does that make Harper?"

"Another candle. You lit her, and now she's lighting other people."

Ayla liked this idea. A chain of candles, each one lighting the next, until the whole room was bright.

That night, at home, Ayla and Darian talked to their parents about an idea. What if they started a club at school — a club for kids who wanted to be candles? Not a charity club or a volunteering club exactly, but a club for kids who wanted to practice seeing people with their heart-eyes and making them feel welcome.

"What would you call it?" asked Baba.

Ayla thought for exactly two seconds. "The Lightbringers."

Mama and Baba exchanged a look — the kind that meant they were proud but trying not to make a big deal about it.

"I think that's a wonderful idea," said Mama. "And I think you already have your first members."

"Lightbringers don't just do nice things. We see people. We really see them. And when you really see someone, being kind is easy."

Four kids under a tree. It wasn't much. But every light starts small.

And this one was just beginning.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR Bahá'í Inspired Books creates connected series that grow with young readers.