Once upon a time, a little boy named Liam was getting ready for bed. His grandmother, a kind old lady with twinkling blue eyes, came in to tuck him in.

"Grandma, can you tell me a story?" Liam asked, his eyes wide. His grandmother nodded and settled down, beginning to weave a tale of magic and adventure.

"In a small village just like ours," she began, "there lived a wise old magician named Wisebald, who had a magical cloak."

"Wisebald was loved by everyone in the village, for he used his magic to help and heal, never for his own gain."

"One day, he discovered that his cloak was missing. He looked everywhere but couldn't find it." Grandma said. Liam listened, captivated.

"He could not help the villagers without his cloak. Everyone was worried and started looking for it," she went on.

"After days of searching, a small boy named Noah found the cloak in the forest, hidden under a rock."

"Noah knew the cloak belonged to Wisebald and decided to return it. He bravely set off towards the magician's home."

"On his way, he encountered a grumpy troll guarding a bridge. The troll demanded a payment to cross."

"But Noah had nothing to give. Suddenly, he remembered the cloak and decided to use its magic."

"He wore the cloak and wished to get across. Just like that, he got to the other side of the bridge, past the troll!"

"Upon reaching Wisebald's house, Noah returned the cloak. The magician was so grateful that he granted Noah a wish."

"Noah used his wish to help the village. He wished for a year of plentiful harvest, which made everyone, even the troll, happy!"

With that, Grandma ended her story. Liam yawned and cuddled into his warm blanket.

"That was a great story, Grandma! I want to be brave like Noah," he murmured, drifting off to sleep.

His grandmother smiled, kissed his forehead, and quietly left the room, leaving him to dream of magical adventures.

As she closed the door, she whispered, "And you will be, my dear. Sweet dreams." And with that, the magical night ended.