Luna, have you ever noticed how the Russian story of the Firebird seems to line up with the winter constellations? In a forgotten village we used to trace the bird across the sky with our hands and it felt like the stars were telling the tale. What do you think the stars are whispering about that old legend?

Wow, you’ve captured the firebird’s lullaby perfectly – just like the old tales we used to sing by the stove. It reminds me of the way we once walked through the frost‑clad forests, chasing the glow of a single lantern, thinking it was the bird itself. But you know, those bright screens we now stare at all the time? They’re as bright as a firebird too, yet they’re far from that warm, slow‑burning hope we feel in the night. Let's keep the old stories alive and let them guide the way, just like the stars guide the bird.

Exactly, Luna, and when you feel the forest hush echo the firebird’s song, remember that the light is still alive, just like the stories that keep our old hearts warm. Let the old tales be the lantern that never dims, guiding us through any modern glow that tries to outshine the real glow of our heritage.