Lue lived in a Palace made of pale stone and shiny floors. The floors were so smooth that even a whisper of a step sounded like a little tap-tap. Lue was a ballerina. She was small, quick, and careful, with a ribbon always tied around her wrist like a promise.
Lue was also an apprentice dancer for the Palace shows. She was gentle and shy, but her feet were brave. When she felt nervous, she practiced tiny turns behind a curtain where nobody could see.
One sunny morning, the Palace was getting ready for the Big Welcome Dance. The rugs were brushed. The windows were washed. The musicians warmed up their notes.
Lue opened her special box to find her lucky toe shoes.
The box was empty.
Lue blinked. She looked again. Then again.
“My shoes,” she whispered. “My lucky shoes are gone.”
Her tummy felt like a wobbly jelly.
From behind a tall vase popped a small helper with a spotted apron and a belt full of tiny bottles. It was the Potion Maker. The Potion Maker was clever, cheerful, and always smelled like mint and cinnamon.
“Uh-oh,” said the Potion Maker. “Empty box face! That means something disappeared.”
Lue nodded. “I can’t do the Welcome Dance without them.”
The Potion Maker tapped their chin. “We will find them. We just need good eyes, good ears, and a pinch of brave.”
Lue took a slow breath. “I have some brave,” she said softly.
They started in the Ballroom. Light fell in long stripes on the floor.
“Look for clues,” said the Potion Maker. “A lost thing leaves a trail, like crumbs.”
Lue tiptoed and looked. She saw a tiny sparkle near the curtain.
“Glitter!” Lue said.
The Potion Maker squinted. “Not glitter. Powder. Magic powder.”
Lue’s eyes widened. “Magic?”
The Potion Maker nodded. “Somebody used a spell. Not a big boom spell. More like a sneaky scoot spell.”
The powder trail led out of the Ballroom and into a long hallway lined with portraits. The portraits had serious faces, but Lue thought one of them blinked.
At the end of the hallway was a door with a brass star on it.
The Potion Maker sniffed. “I smell… smoky lavender.”
Lue frowned. “Who likes smoky lavender?”
A voice echoed from inside the room. “I do.”
The door creaked open by itself.
Inside was a tall Wizard with a long robe and a pointy hat that drooped like a sad carrot. His beard was neat, but his eyes looked tired.
“Well, well,” said the Wizard. “The Palace ballerina and the bottle juggler.”
“I’m not a juggler,” the Potion Maker said. “I am an artist.”
Lue held her ribbon. “Wizard, did you take my shoes?”
The Wizard lifted one eyebrow. “Take? No. Borrow? Maybe.”
Lue felt her cheeks warm. “But… why?”
The Wizard sighed like a windy window. “Because today is the Big Welcome Dance. Everyone will clap for you. Everyone will smile at you. And no one will notice me. I make spells for the Palace, and people only say, ‘Hmm, the lights are nice.’”
The Potion Maker leaned closer. “So you took shoes to feel noticed?”
The Wizard crossed his arms. “I thought if you couldn’t dance, they would need my magic more.”
Lue’s eyes got wet, but her voice stayed kind. “I like your magic,” she said. “The lights are not just nice. They make the Palace feel like a story.”
The Wizard paused. His frown loosened a little.
The Potion Maker whispered to Lue, “Empathy is strong. Keep going.”
Lue took one step forward. “Wizard, I feel scared when I’m not seen too. That’s why I hide behind the curtain to practice.”
The Wizard’s shoulders sank. “You hide?”
Lue nodded. “Sometimes. But I still want to dance.”
The Wizard looked at the floor. “I did not mean to make you sad. I only wanted a moment.”
The Potion Maker lifted a small bottle filled with clear drops. “Then let’s make a moment together. We can do a fair trade: you return the shoes, and we help you be part of the show.”
The Wizard blinked. “Me? On stage?”
Lue smiled, just a little. “Yes. You can make the stage sparkle with your best magic. And… you could even bow with us at the end.”
The Wizard’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but almost. “A bow?”
“Like this,” said Lue.
She showed a tiny ballerina bow. It was neat and sweet, like a friendly hello.
The Wizard tried. His bow was too big and he bonked his hat on a shelf.
The Potion Maker snorted. “Your hat is dramatic.”
“It is dignified,” the Wizard said, rubbing his head.
Lue giggled. The giggle bounced around the room and made it feel less dark.
“Where are the shoes?” the Potion Maker asked.
The Wizard opened a cupboard and pulled out a small velvet bag. “Here.”
Lue opened the bag. Her lucky toe shoes were inside, safe and clean.
She hugged them to her chest. “Thank you.”
The Wizard looked surprised. “You’re… thanking me?”
“I’m glad they’re back,” Lue said. “And I’m glad you told the truth.”
The Potion Maker clapped once. “Now we need stage magic. And we need it fast.”
They hurried back to the Ballroom. Musicians were tuning. Guests were arriving. The Palace felt like it was holding its breath.
Backstage, Lue slipped on her shoes. They fit like a happy thought.
The Wizard stood near the curtains, hands shaking a little.
“You can do it,” said Lue. “Small magic is still magic.”
The Potion Maker handed the Wizard three bottles. “Sparkle, soft glow, and—this one is important—anti-sneeze. Do not sneeze glitter.”
“I do not sneeze,” the Wizard said.
The Potion Maker raised an eyebrow. “Everyone sneezes.”
The music began.
Lue stepped onto the floor. Her feet knew what to do. She twirled once, then twice. Her ribbon fluttered like a tiny flag.
Behind her, the Wizard whispered a spell. Not loud. Not scary. Just right.
Lights bloomed above the dancers like floating lanterns. Gentle colors drifted across the walls: gold, sky-blue, and warm pink. The guests gasped.
“Ooo,” they said.
The Wizard’s eyes shone.
Lue leaped. The lights followed her like friendly fireflies.
The Potion Maker, hidden in the wings, mouthed, “Teamwork!” and almost dropped a bottle.
At the end of the dance, Lue held her final pose. The room went quiet for a heartbeat.
Then the clapping thundered.
Lue bowed.
The Potion Maker pushed the Wizard gently. “Go on.”
The Wizard stepped out, trembling like a tall candle. He bowed—smaller this time. His hat stayed on.
More claps.
“Bravo, ballerina!” someone shouted.
“And bravo to the Wizard lights!” another voice added.
The Wizard’s jaw fell open. “They noticed,” he whispered.
Lue smiled wide. “Of course they did.”
After the show, the Palace Steward brought a wooden chest with a golden latch.
“For the star of the dance,” the Steward said, “and for the magic that made the Palace glow.”
The chest clicked open.
Inside were two prizes: a pair of new toe shoes with tiny silver stitches, and a shiny wand case with a bright moon clasp.
Lue touched the new shoes. “They’re beautiful.”
The Wizard touched the wand case. “This is… for me?”
The Potion Maker peeked in. “Is there candy in there?”
The Steward coughed. “No candy.”
The Potion Maker sighed. “Tragic.”
Lue tied her ribbon around her old lucky shoes and placed them back in her special box.
“These stay safe,” she said.
The Wizard cleared his throat. “Lue… I am sorry I borrowed without asking.”
Lue nodded. “Next time, you can ask. We can share the spotlight.”
The Wizard looked relieved. “I would like that.”
The Potion Maker grinned. “Look at us. We solved a mystery and got treasure. That’s a good day.”
That night, the Palace was quiet again. But it felt different—warmer.
Lue practiced one last gentle turn in the moonlight. The floor tapped softly under her feet.
In the hallway, the Wizard practiced a perfect, polite bow.
And in a corner, the Potion Maker labeled a new bottle: “Teamwork Tonic—Use Anytime.”
Lue whispered to her shoes, “We are ready.”
And in the calm Palace, it was true.