After the great "tree-toppling incident," I floated back to my favorite quiet corner of the universe—right behind Saturn's third ring. It had the best view, trust me. No screaming kids, no scared villagers, and definitely no rogue chickens flying at my face (don't ask).
I needed a plan. Clearly, just poofing into a village and declaring myself helpful wasn't going to work. I needed to start small—like, "helping-a-cat-stuck-in-a-tree" small. Baby steps.
So, I decided to do what any confused cosmic being would do: I made a list.
ECHO'S "HOW TO BE USEFUL ON EARTH" LIST:
1. Learn Earth language (all 6,500 of them? Okay, I'll start with one... probably not ancient Sumerian).
2. Understand emotions. (Apparently people cry when they're happy? Suspicious.)
3. Don't hover over people while glowing ominously.
4. Be cool. (Still figuring out what that means. Is it sunglasses? Must be sunglasses.)
5. Do not summon tornadoes to impress children.
6. Stop toppling trees.
With this stellar to-do list in hand (well, metaphorically—I still didn't have hands), I began my training.
And by training, I mean I followed a squirrel.
Don't laugh.
That little creature was the wisest mentor I could find. I watched him for days—how he found food, avoided danger, and still managed to look adorable while stuffing an acorn into his cheeks. If that wasn't mastery of survival and charm, I didn't know what was.
Inspired, I tried to interact again. I picked a quiet spot—a peaceful meadow where a little girl named Tara was picking flowers. No crowds. No villagers. No trees to accidentally demolish.
I very gently—like soft-breeze-through-leaves gently—floated closer and said, "Hello."
She blinked. "Are you a balloon?"
Not quite the magical reaction I was expecting, but I'll take it.
"I'm Echo," I said, doing my best not to sparkle too aggressively. "I'm here to help."
Tara looked at me curiously, then nodded solemnly. "Okay. My doll fell in the mud. Can you clean her?"
Yes! A mission! A simple one! A chance to prove my usefulness without dramatic weather events!
I conjured a small bubble of warm water, hovered it over the doll, and added a sprinkle of stardust soap. The doll sparkled like new.
Tara gasped. "You're amazing!"
And just like that, I was officially helpful. I even got a flower crown out of it. She insisted on putting it on my... glowing head-thing. It kept slipping off, but it was the thought that counted.
Buoyed by success, I began helping others in tiny ways—finding lost sheep, guiding birds back to nests, even untangling kites from trees (without blowing the trees away, thank you very much).
But still, something felt missing. Like I was meant for more. The little things were sweet, and I loved seeing people smile, but deep down, I sensed a storm was coming—a big one. Something important was on the horizon.
That's when I heard it.
Not a sound in the air—but a call in my core. A pull. Like the universe whispering, "Hey, you! Yes, you with the glowing body and squirrel obsession! It's time."
I followed that pull across skies and rivers, valleys and towns, until I reached a distant village by the sea. A place where the wind carried whispers of worry, and the waves had started to rise higher than they should.
I watched from above. The people were kind, hardworking—but struggling. Their homes were humble, their days full of effort. And there, among them, I saw him.
Swapnil.
There was something about him. He didn't look powerful. He didn't glow or hover or accidentally summon gusts of wind. But his heart—his heart pulsed with something rare: the will to protect others at any cost, even if it cost him everything.
I saw how he calmed a crying child when food ran short, how he stood silently near the ocean, his eyes sharp, as if guarding everyone from a storm no one else could see.
And I knew... this was who I had been waiting for.
But I didn't want to scare him. Not yet. I stayed hidden for a while, just observing him, helping him subtly—guiding his footsteps when he wandered into the forest, nudging his hand toward water when he was about to faint from heat. Little things.
And every time he thanked the sky without knowing why, my not-a-heart warmed.
I was a strange glowing being of the cosmos, and he was a quiet human standing alone against rising tides.
But somehow... we were connected.
I would make my presence known to him soon. But for now, I simply whispered on the breeze, watching over him like a cosmic guardian with a terrible track record and a flower crown made of giggles.
I was Echo.
And my real story?
It was just beginning.