Sofia held her fingertips over one of the scales embossed with a moon. She closed her eyes. When she touched the scale, she was engulfed by a warm breeze that blew through her hair and made the gossamer dress she wore cling and flutter against her legs and torso. A full moon illuminated the cobalt sky above and the verdant earth below. Hundreds of firefly specks swirled around her feet, lifted her into the night sky, and whisked her to the highest peak of a golden mountain. Sofia stood there on that mountaintop and put her head back. She framed the moon in the open arc of her raised arms. A shaft of silver moonlight poured down on her. Everywhere she looked, she saw the light. It was above, below, and to her every side. Sofia became the sky and the moon. She was the warm breeze. She was the fluttering dress. She was the golden mountain. She became one with the light. Every heart that ever beat, now beat with hers; she knew every joy and every sorrow that ever was or ever would be.