Ginger noticed the first light just after supper. She had gone outside because the evening was too beautiful to waste indoors. The heat of the day had finally loosened its grip, and a soft breeze moved across the yard, carrying the dusty smell of earth and something sweet blooming farther away. The sky was still pale near the horizon, but the first stars were beginning to appear.

Ginger wandered toward the far edge of the yard, dragging a stick through the dirt as she went. She wasn't looking for anything in particular. Sometimes the best things happened when she wasn't looking. That was when she saw it—a tiny golden light glowing beneath a clump of grass.

At first she thought it was a firefly, although she had never seen one sit so perfectly still. She crouched down and pushed the grass aside. The light wasn't a bug. It was a lantern. A very tiny lantern. It stood no taller than Ginger's thumb, with four little glass sides and a curved handle over the top. Inside burned a flame no bigger than a grain of rice. It flickered gently, although the breeze didn't seem to bother it at all.

Ginger stared. "Well," she whispered. "That's strange."

Then another light appeared several feet away beneath a patch of weeds. Then another. And another. One by one, tiny lanterns began shining through the grass until there were dozens of them. They made a wandering line across the yard, through the weeds and around the rocks, as though someone had laid out a glowing pathway while Ginger wasn't looking. Some lanterns were golden. Others shone pale blue or soft green. One glimmered pink for a moment before changing to silver.

Ginger looked toward the house. She almost called for someone. Almost. But something about the lanterns made her stay quiet. The little lights seemed to be waiting, so Ginger followed them.

The path led beyond the place where she usually played. It curved through tall grass that brushed against her knees and continued toward an old patch of ground where nothing much grew except weeds and a few stubborn wildflowers. The farther Ginger walked, the darker the evening became, and the brighter the lanterns grew.

Soon she could no longer see the house behind her. Ginger stopped. That was impossible. The house wasn't far away. She turned around, but there was only grass. Tall, silver-tipped grass stretched beneath a sky crowded with stars. Ginger's heart began to beat faster. "Hello?" she called. No one answered.

Then the lantern nearest her lifted off the ground.

Ginger jumped backward as the tiny lantern floated into the air. Another rose beside it, then another. All around her, the little lanterns began drifting upward until hundreds of glowing lights hovered above the grass. Ginger forgot to be afraid. They were beautiful. Some floated barely above her head. Others climbed high into the darkness until they looked like new stars. They moved without strings, without hands, without anything Ginger could see carrying them.

Then one lantern drifted toward her and stopped directly in front of her face. Inside its tiny glass walls, the flame changed. For just a moment, Ginger saw something in it—a place. She leaned closer. Inside the lantern was a road she had never walked, winding between enormous red cliffs beneath a brilliant blue sky. The flame flickered, and the road disappeared.

Another lantern floated near. Inside this one, Ginger saw an ocean stretching farther than she could imagine. Waves crashed against black rocks while white birds wheeled overhead. Another lantern showed a forest glowing green after rain. Another held a city filled with lights. Another showed mountains covered in flowers.

Ginger turned slowly beneath the floating lanterns. Every one held somewhere different. Places she knew. Places she didn't. Places that might not even exist.

Then she saw a lantern glowing by itself near the ground. Unlike the others, its glass was dark. Ginger walked toward it, and the little lantern waited in the grass. She knelt beside it. "What's inside you?" she whispered.

A flame appeared.

Ginger looked through the glass and saw herself. Not the Ginger kneeling in the grass, but another Ginger. A slightly taller Ginger stood at the beginning of a road. She wore a small pack on her back, and the road ahead twisted through hills until it disappeared beyond the horizon.

Ginger pressed closer. "Where am I going?"

The tiny Ginger inside the lantern turned. For one impossible second, she seemed to look directly at her. Then she smiled.

The flame went out. Every lantern vanished.

Ginger gasped. The stars were gone. The strange endless field was gone. She was standing at the edge of her own yard again. Behind her, the porch light glowed, and someone inside the house called her name. "I'm coming!" Ginger shouted.

She hurried back through the grass, but halfway to the house she stopped. Something warm was inside her hand. Ginger opened her fingers. A tiny lantern rested in her palm. Its glass was dark now. There was no flame inside, and no road, no mountains, no mysterious older Ginger.

She carried it to her room and placed it beside her bed. For days, nothing happened. Then weeks. Eventually Ginger began to wonder whether the lanterns had really been magic at all. Maybe she had imagined them. Maybe she had fallen asleep in the grass. Maybe there was a perfectly sensible explanation that she simply hadn't discovered yet. Then, late one night, Ginger woke without knowing why. Her room was dark, but when she rolled over, the tiny lantern on the table beside her bed was glowing. Ginger sat up and watched a little golden flame flicker behind the glass. This time there was no picture inside it. Only light. Ginger smiled. She didn't touch it or call anyone. She simply pulled the blankets beneath her chin and watched the tiny flame until her eyes grew heavy again. Outside her window, far across the sleeping yard, another small light appeared in the grass. Then another. And another.