The Last Candle in the Castle

After the fall of the kingdom, the castle stood silent. Only one candle burned — a relic of the queen’s last night. It never melted, never went out. Travelers said the light moved as if breathing, following them with warmth or warning.

Centuries passed, and the candle learned names, faces, grief. It became the memory of everything the kingdom lost. One winter night, a child entered the ruins, freezing and alone. The candle flickered — and for the first time, spoke.

When morning came, the castle was gone. In its place stood a single stone, engraved:

“She lit the world one last time.”

And sometimes, when the fog is heavy and the stars dim, a lone candle burns where the castle once stood — guarding the memory of warmth.