It was a bitter winter evening. The snow fell like white feathers over the dark forest. Two poor woodcutters were making their way home, their breath silver in the air. Suddenly, one of them stopped and pointed to something shining among the trees.

There, in the whiteness, lay a small naked child, wrapped in a golden cloak embroidered with strange stars, and around his neck hung a chain of amber. “Surely this is a star that has fallen from heaven,” whispered one. But his companion said, “No, it is only a child.”

The first woodcutter turned away, for his home was poor and his children were hungry. But the second one, whose heart was kind, lifted the child gently in his arms and carried him home through the storm.

When he reached his cottage, his wife cried, “We have barely bread for our own! Why bring another mouth to feed?” Yet when she saw the beauty of the child, she softened and warmed him by the fire. They laid him in their youngest child’s cradle, and he smiled as though sunlight touched his lips.

Years passed, and the Star-Child grew tall and fair. His hair was like fine gold, his eyes like violets by a river’s edge, and his skin was whiter than ivory. The villagers wondered at his beauty, but pride filled his heart.

He would mock the poor, and drive the beggars from the gate. “See how ugly and dark they are,” he said. “Surely they are cursed of God.” His foster father warned him, “Remember, beauty is but the blossom of the soul.” But he laughed and turned away.

One day, as he played in the marketplace, a beggar woman came through the crowd. Her garments were ragged, her feet were bleeding, and she cried, “Pity me, my child, for I am hungry and weary.” The Star-Child threw a stone at her and said, “Away with you, foul creature!”

Then the beggar woman lifted her tearful eyes and said, “Surely you are my son. For I looked upon you when you were little, wrapped in a golden cloak and wearing a chain of amber.” But the boy laughed bitterly: “You, my mother? No. My mother is of the stars and not so vile as you.”

At her cry, she tore the chain from his neck and vanished into the forest, weeping. The crowd murmured against the boy, but he stood pale and proud. Yet a chill came over him, and the sunlight seemed to fade.

When he reached the stream that evening, he bent to see his reflection—and screamed. His face had become like that of a toad, his hair coarse as reeds, his skin dark and rough. In horror he fled, for the villagers drove him away, calling him a monster.

Alone, he wandered through barren fields and silent woods. The wind mocked him, and even the birds would not sing near him. Yet in his heart he said, “I will find my mother and beg her forgiveness.”

After many days he reached a walled city of marble and towers. But when he entered, the guards seized him, saying, “You are but a slave. Come, work in the field with the others.” And they beat him and gave him crusts of bread.

The master of the city was a cruel magician, dressed in black robes embroidered with strange signs. He looked long at the Star-Child and said, “There is gold hidden in the forest. Bring it to me, and I will set you free.”

The magician gave him a silver piece and said, “Each day, bring me back one piece of gold from the wood. Fail, and you shall be beaten.” So the Star-Child went out, trembling, into the forest.

By a spring he saw a small hare caught in a trap, crying softly. Though weak with hunger, he freed the creature, saying, “May peace go with you, little one.” Then he dug beneath the tree roots and found a gold piece lying in the earth.

He ran joyfully back to the magician’s house, but the gold turned into lead in his hand. The magician struck him cruelly and said, “You have failed.”

The next day, the magician sent him again. In the forest he found a child weeping beside a thorn bush. “They have stolen my food,” the child sobbed. The Star-Child gave him his own crust of bread. Beneath the bush he found another gold piece.

But when he returned, the coin had again turned to lead. The magician beat him until blood stained the floor. Yet the boy whispered, “Still, I will find my mother.”

On the third day, the magician cried, “If you fail again, you shall die.” The Star-Child went trembling into the forest. At the edge of a pool lay a wounded old man.

The boy tore his own garment to bind the man’s wounds, and the man blessed him with a trembling hand. Then, beneath a stone, the boy found a third piece of gold. But this time he said, “I will not give it to that wicked man. I will seek my mother instead.”

As he passed the city gate, the guards seized him. “This coin belongs to our master!” they shouted, and they dragged him before the magician. But when the magician stretched forth his hand, the coin became a withered leaf and vanished into dust.

The magician shrieked, “You have bewitched my gold! You shall die!” But even as he spoke, the old man from the forest entered the hall. “Do not harm this child,” he said, “for mercy follows him like light.”

At his words, the magician trembled and fell to the ground, for the old man’s rags shone like gold, and his crown blazed with stars. He was the true King of that land, who had wandered in disguise to test the hearts of men.

The King turned to the Star-Child and said, “You have shown pity, though you have suffered. Go now, and seek her whom you have wronged.” And he kissed the boy’s brow, and his chains fell away.

The Star-Child wandered until he came once more to the village of his birth. The fields were green again, and spring birds sang above. Yet none would speak to him, for they feared his strange face.

At last, by the well, he saw the beggar woman sitting in the sun. He fell at her feet, crying, “Mother, I have sinned against Heaven and against you. Forgive me.” She lifted him gently, saying, “I forgave you long ago, my child.”

As she spoke, a light broke around them. His face grew fair again, his hair shone like gold, and his eyes were bright as the morning star. The people who saw it knelt, for they knew a miracle had been wrought.

So he was made King of that land, and ruled with justice and mercy. Yet he never forgot the days of shame, nor the poor and the lowly. And when he died, after three years, they buried him with honor; and a bright star stood above his tomb.