When Emma was fifteen, she and her family were visiting Yunzou—a lively city full of tall pagodas and busy markets—when disaster struck out of nowhere. After a full day of exploring crowded streets, delicious food stalls, and colorful temples, Emma was still buzzing with excitement. She couldn't wait to see more. But suddenly, the ground shook violently beneath them.
Buildings groaned and cracked, people screamed and ran, and dust filled the air as everything turned to chaos. Emma's heart pounded. She gasped for breath, unable to make sense of what was happening. The roar of falling buildings drowned out all sound, and the ground kept shifting under her feet. "What's going on?" she whispered, voice shaking. Then a deafening crash came from beside her—the building next to her collapsed. The street tilted, and before she could react, the world went black.
When Emma woke up, her whole body hurt, and dust and smoke blurred her vision. She was trapped under heavy rubble—concrete and metal pinning her down. Each breath was painful, the air thick and harsh in her lungs. Panic rose quickly, but she forced herself to stay calm.
Then, she heard a faint groan nearby. Turning her head slightly, she saw a boy about her age, also half-buried and covered in dust and blood. His eyes met hers—wide and scared—and she saw her own fear reflected in them.
"Don't be afraid," Emma said, her voice trembling. She tried to sound calm, even if she wasn't sure she believed her own words. "We have to stay calm. Someone will come." She didn't know if it was true, but it was the only thing keeping her from breaking down.
She noticed a small open space under a fallen beam—just big enough for them to crawl into. "Come with me," she urged, reaching out. His cold, shaky fingers grabbed hers, and though he said nothing, he followed her lead. Emma's arms trembled from the effort, but she held on tight.
The dust was choking and her eyes burned, but she focused on one thought: fear wouldn't save them. Only strength would. So she held on—to the boy, to her courage, and to the fragile hope that they'd survive.
Trapped under the rubble, time seemed to stop. Darkness surrounded Emma, the air thick with dust and the sharp smell of blood. Her body was sore and stiff, the heat pressing down on her like a heavy blanket. The only sign of life was the boy beside her—his slow, shallow breaths reminding her they were still holding on. Everything else—the world above, her parents—felt far away, like a dream fading. Had they survived? Were they looking for her now? The fear of never seeing them again squeezed her chest. No, she told herself. I can't give up. Not now.
Then—she heard something. A steady thumping sound, like machinery. Voices. Commands. Rescuers. Her heart leapt. They're here. We're going to make it. She looked at the boy, barely conscious, and gripped his hand tightly. "Stay with me," she whispered, her throat raw. "Help is here." Saying the words gave her strength too—something to believe in.
The rescue happened in a rush. The voices got closer, louder. Then came a final crash, and light burst through the cracks. Emma winced at the brightness as hands reached in and pulled her out. The pressure lifted, but when she tried to stand, her legs gave out. A medic caught her and wrapped a blanket around her shaking shoulders.
Yunzou was in ruins—buildings broken, roads torn, the air still thick with dust. But people were alive. And there, through the haze, she saw her parents. Tears streamed down their faces as they ran toward her. Seeing them safe hit her like a wave—she had made it. She was still here.
As Emma turned, she saw the boy standing still, arms wrapped tightly around himself. His eyes stared blankly ahead—no family came running, no one called his name. A chill ran through her. He's alone. A medic gently asked him questions, but he said nothing. His parents were gone. Everything he knew had been buried in the same rubble they escaped from.
Later, in the noisy, crowded camp, Emma sat beside him on a thin cot. Medics had treated their wounds, but the boy hadn't spoken. He sat hunched over, hands limp, weighed down by grief. Emma hesitated, then placed a gentle hand on his arm. His skin was cold.
"My name is Emma," she said softly. "I'm so sorry for your loss." The words felt small, but they were all she had. He didn't respond. She went on, her voice shaky. "Please, stay strong. We're still young. There's a long road ahead. You'll make it through this."
He didn't move. His eyes stared into nothing, full of unspoken pain. Emma could almost hear the silent questions inside him—Why me? Why did I survive? She wanted to say something that would ease his sorrow, but no words seemed enough. So she simply stayed with him, hoping her presence might bring some comfort.
Then an idea came to her. She reached for the silver star pendant around her neck—a gift from her mother on her thirteenth birthday. "This will always remind you that light finds its way through even the darkest nights," her mother had said.
Emma unclasped the necklace, her fingers shaking. Leaning forward, she placed it gently around the boy's neck. The small star caught the light, shining softly against his dusty skin.
"I hope this brings you light when things feel dark," she whispered. "And warmth and courage when you need it most."
For the first time since the rescue, something changed in the boy's face. His eyes dropped to the pendant, and his fingers brushed it gently, like he was making sure it was real. Then he looked up at Emma. His eyes were still full of pain, but now, there was something else—a quiet understanding. He didn't smile, didn't speak, but he gave her a small nod. It wasn't thanks in words, but it meant everything. It said, I see you. I understand.
As Emma stepped back, something deep within her stirred. Watching him—battered, silent, yet somehow still standing—stirred something raw and powerful inside her. He was still hurting, still lost, but he hadn't let go. And that, more than anything, gave her strength. I won't forget him, she thought, heart tight. I won't forget this moment.
Emma took a deep breath, the air still heavy with smoke and dust, and made a vow—not just to the boy, but to herself and the world: I will be the light for others.