Sparky drifted through the open void, his small glow flickering against the dark. He wanted every creature in the galaxy at his festival — even the ones no one had ever named. His bottled notes had floated too slow. His own light reached too short. He needed something bigger. He carried the pulsing meteor fragment to the crystal observatory, where Melody Starling waited at the lens. She turned the fragment in her hand. "This will speak," she said. "Loud enough to cross the dark." Melody set the fragment inside the observatory's beam. A small star moth landed on her finger, wings shimmering. She whispered Sparky's invitation into its wings, then let it fly into the fragment's light. The beam carried the moth's song outward in a great rolling pulse. Sparky watched the wave roll past planets and stars. For a long moment, nothing answered. Then, from somewhere very far, a sound came back — soft, colored, alive. A ribbon of light and music bloomed in the void, answering his call. Melody lowered the lens. "Something heard you," she said. Sparky's glow brightened. The festival was no longer only his idea. Someone, somewhere, was already on their way.

Sparky watched the bright streak grow closer in the void. A famous traveler had seen his message and was racing toward him fast. Sparky's glow flickered. He had nothing ready. He had to greet this guest, and he had to do it now. He scooped a handful of pastel sparkle dust from the small nebula pup curled at his side. The pup shook its bright fur, sending more shimmering grains into the air. Sparky packed the dust into a tiny pouch. This would be his welcome gift, small enough to hold, bright enough to remember. Next, Sparky lit the welcome fireworks he had been saving. They bloomed above him in a great cloud of color, hanging in the dark like a sign. Pink, blue, and gold sparks spun together, marking his spot in the empty sky. The streak slowed. A tall, glittering visitor drifted into the light of the firework cloud and smiled. "I followed your call," the guest said. Sparky pressed the pouch into their hand. The festival had its first true arrival, and word would spread fast.

The first guest had barely tucked away the pouch when the sky cracked open. A lightning storm rolled in fast, yanking distant travelers off course. Sparky could see their tiny lights drifting sideways in the dark. He had to act before they were lost for good. He ran to the fireworks workshop and hauled out his strongest rockets. Melody Starling helped him aim them straight into the heart of the storm. A warm-glow moth landed on the roof of a small stone cabin nearby, anchoring itself there. Its soft yellow light pulsed in time with the moth's song, ready to guide. Sparky poured a wide mound of shimmering stardust powder onto the open ground. It glittered like a second sky, bright enough to spot from far away. "Now," he told Melody. She sang. The moth glowed. The fireworks shrieked upward and burst inside the storm, splitting the clouds with color. The drifting lights turned. One by one, the lost guests found the glittering mound and floated down safe. The storm rumbled away, beaten back. Sparky's tiny welcome had grown into a true gathering — and more were still coming.

The guests were safe on the ground, but the storm wasn't done. Thunder rolled back over the hills, louder than before. Sparky waved everyone toward a sleek metal shelter at the edge of the field. Its angular walls shimmered as travelers ducked through the glowing doorway. Once they were inside, Sparky pulled on his protective suit and stepped back out alone. He planted a tall magnet rod in the open dirt and gripped its base. Lightning cracked. The rod hummed and caught the bolt, pulling it sideways through the air. Near the rod sat a small bunny with fur full of tiny stars. Sparky guided the charge straight into its woolly coat. The bunny's fur lit up bright, drinking the lightning down. Bolt after bolt sank into the soft glow until the sky went quiet. Sparky opened the shelter door. "It's safe now," he said. The travelers stepped out, blinking at the calm sky and the glowing bunny curled beside the rod. More guests had arrived than he'd ever counted — and the festival had only begun.

The sky cleared, but the field did not. Guests kept pouring in from every direction. Sparky scanned the crowd and spotted dark clouds rolling back fast. He waved everyone toward a small stone lodge with soft padded walls and shimmering blue accents. Travelers ducked inside as the first raindrops fell. Sparky planted his magnet rod in the dirt outside the lodge door. Lightning cracked down and the rod hummed, pulling the bolt sideways into the soil. Safe for now, he thought. But the lodge was filling up fast. Sparky reached into his pack and tossed out a handful of glowing spheres. They drifted up, iridescent and soft, bouncing gently between the guests. The bubbles nudged people apart and made room where there had been none. Children laughed and pressed their palms against the floating colors. Still, more ships landed. Sparky ran to the bright star marker at the field's edge where his usher stood guiding traffic. "We're past capacity," she said flatly. "Forty more inbound. The lodge holds twelve." She pointed up. "Drifting station, two minutes out. I can route them there." "Do it," Sparky said. She raised her arms toward the sky, and the supercharged star at her feet pulsed bright. New arrivals veered upward, following her signal to the floating overflow station above. Sparky watched the sky settle into order. The festival was bigger than he'd planned for — and still growing.

The lodge door swung open and the rain stopped. Sparky stepped out onto wet grass and saw another storm curling above the field. He had no time to move the guests again. He pulled a coil of copper netting from his pack and flung it high. The net spread wide and caught the storm in its weave, holding the clouds in place. A boy on a streaking comet swung close overhead. Sparky waved him down. "Help me pull it east," he called. The boy looped his comet through the net's edge and tugged. Together they dragged the storm sideways, off the field, until it broke apart over empty space. Sparky landed back on the grass and dusted his hands. He walked to the center of the field and yanked a long silver cord. A heavy cloth fell away, and a shimmering domed pavilion rose into view. Blue and violet glass caught the last drops of rain. Guests gasped and pressed forward. A tall figure with silver hair walked through the crowd and stopped beside a polished microphone on a slim stand. Melody Starling rested one hand on it. "You did this," she said quietly to Sparky. "All of it." She did not smile. She only nodded once, and that was enough. Then a streak of blue light landed on the pavilion steps. A sleek cat with a long, sparkling tail sat down and looked at the crowd. It lifted one paw and set down a small bundle of striped ribbon bows. Then it flicked its tail and vanished into the sky. Sparky picked up the ribbons. The festival had begun. Guests poured toward the pavilion, and Melody stepped to the microphone. Sparky felt the weight shift in his chest. The hard part was over. The bigger part was only starting now.

The cat returned. It dropped from the sky in a streak of blue and landed near the pavilion steps, its tail twitching wildly. Sparks jumped from its fur. A small storm had tangled itself in that long, shimmering tail, and the cat hissed in panic. Sparky knelt and spoke low. He needed to calm it before the lightning broke loose over the guests. He pulled a golden cradle from behind the pavilion and set it on the grass. Soft cushions lined the inside. Sparky lifted the cat gently and settled it in, then tucked a fluffy kitten against its side. The comet cat's breathing slowed. Its tail uncurled across the cradle's edge like a ribbon of starlight. With its tail still glowing, the cat flicked the trapped storm upward in one clean arc. The lightning shot into the dome's copper net overhead. Sparky raised his magnet rod and guided the captured charge across the field, into a rusted old weather station at the edge of the grounds. The storm crackled inside its walls and went quiet. The sky cleared. Melody Starling lowered the microphone and watched fresh ships drift down toward the open field. Sparky wiped his hands on his coat. New guests were arriving, and now there was room and calm to greet them.

With the sky clear and the cradle still humming, Sparky turned to the field. More guests were drifting in, but the path to the pavilion looked plain and unmarked. He needed a true welcome. He lit his vest until it glowed soft gold and stepped to the front of the grounds, waving the new arrivals forward through the grass. A low rumble shook the clouds above. One last storm had slipped through, crackling and stubborn. Sparky whistled, and a sleepy owl floated down to perch on a curved crescent moon set high on a pole. The owl sang a slow lullaby. Sparky lifted a soft marshmallow cloud into the sky to cushion the thunder. The storm yawned. Its lightning dimmed to a pink flicker. Sparky guided the drowsy swirl into a waiting crystal dome and sealed the door. Inside, the storm curled like a kitten, flashing gentle sparks behind the glass. Sparky pushed open the tall iron gates at the edge of the field. Melody Starling raised her microphone. The festival's true welcome had begun.

Melody Starling's voice rang across the field as guests poured through the open gates. Sparky cut a bright ribbon and struck a crystal gong. An octopus performer twirled on a glass stage while a moon-jelly dancer spun bubbles above the steps. But Sparky's eyes drifted to the long table near the path. It was empty. Only a single painted menu card sat there, showing fruits, breads, and steaming bowls that did not exist yet. Guests began to gather, sniffing the air, whispering. Sparky's chest tightened. He had built every welcome but forgotten the feast. He ran behind the trees to a small open-air kitchen he had framed days ago. The stove was cold. The shelves were bare. One cook, a quiet usher friend, waited with folded hands. Sparky lit the stove with a spark from his vest. He sent the usher to call every guest who could chop, stir, or carry. Soon hands of all shapes filled the pavilion. They peeled star-fruit, kneaded dough, and ladled glowing broth. Sparky carried tray after tray to the long table until it bent under the weight of color and steam. The guests cheered and sat down to eat. Sparky watched, breathing hard. The feast was saved, but the painted menu card showed one dish he had not made, and a small, uncounted creature at the table's end was still waiting, plate empty.

Sparky watched the last plate fill and the small creature at the table's end finally smile. The feast was done. But as he turned, he saw rows of cups and bottles glinting under a striped awning, all still full. The drink stand stood waiting, untouched. He waved over a glowing little helper with big eyes, who bounced to his side at once. Together they rolled the pastry cart, now sticky and crumb-dusted, over near the drink stand to mark a meeting spot. Melody Starling caught his look from the stage and nodded. Sparky climbed onto the cart and called out. Guests turned. He pointed at the bright pavilion lined with banners and lamps. The little helper lifted a tray of cups and skipped through the crowd. Hands reached. Glasses filled. Laughter rose with every clink. Sparky hopped down, breathing easier. Every plate fed, every cup poured. Then a tall usher tapped his shoulder and pointed at the sky. More ships were landing, and none of them had a seat left on the ground.