The Lantern Beyond the Mist

The fog rolled in thick and heavy, swallowing the world in a cold, pale silence. The narrow forest trail that Adeel had been following for hours now looked like a thin thread floating in an endless sea of grey. The air smelled of wet earth and pine, and somewhere far away, water dripped in slow, steady beats.

Adeel adjusted the strap of his small satchel. His phone battery had died an hour ago, leaving him with no map, no light, and only the stubborn hope that the path would eventually lead him out. He was a nature photographer—he’d come to this remote valley chasing the legend of a hidden waterfall. But the sun had set faster than he’d expected, and the mist had risen like an uninvited ghost.

A sudden flicker caught his eye.

Far ahead, just beyond a bend, a faint orange glow trembled in the haze. It looked like a lantern—small, warm, alive in the cold gloom.

He hesitated. There were no villages marked on the map he’d studied. Who could be out here at this hour? But the fog pressed in like a living thing, and the idea of walking toward light felt more comforting than staying in darkness.

The closer he came, the clearer it became: an old brass lantern, hanging from the crooked branch of a cedar tree. Its flame danced with a strange steadiness, unaffected by the windless air.

Beneath the lantern stood an old man.

He was wrapped in a long wool coat, a dark scarf wound tightly around his neck. His beard was white, but his eyes—sharp, almost too bright—watched Adeel as if they had been expecting him.

“You’re late,” the man said.

Adeel stopped short. “Late? For what?”

The man tilted his head, studying him. “The mist doesn’t rise for everyone. You were called.”

Called. The word rattled in Adeel’s mind, unsettling yet oddly familiar, like a half-forgotten dream. “I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” he said, forcing a shaky laugh.

“Perhaps,” the man murmured, “or perhaps you’ve mistaken yourself.”

Before Adeel could reply, the man took the lantern from the branch and gestured. “Come. The path ahead isn’t safe.”

Against his better judgment, Adeel followed. The lantern’s glow revealed details the fog had hidden—roots curling across the path like sleeping snakes, sudden drops where the earth crumbled into black nothingness.

As they walked, Adeel tried to start a conversation. “Do you live out here?”

“I keep watch,” the man said.

“For what?”

The old man glanced over his shoulder. “For those who wander too close to the edge.”

Something in his tone made Adeel’s skin prickle. “And what’s at the edge?”

“Not what,” the man said softly. “When.”

Adeel didn’t understand. But the forest seemed to lean closer, listening, so he kept his questions to himself.

They walked for what felt like hours. The air grew colder, the fog thicker. Then, without warning, the ground ahead opened into a wide clearing. In its center stood a stone archway, freestanding, leading to nowhere. It was covered in moss, its carvings worn smooth by time.

“This is as far as I go,” the old man said, raising the lantern high.

Through the archway, the mist swirled differently—denser, but glowing faintly, as though it held its own light. The sight pulled at something deep inside Adeel, a strange yearning he couldn’t name.

“What is this?” he whispered.

“The place you’ve been walking toward since before you knew you were walking at all,” the man replied.

Adeel felt a shiver crawl up his spine. “And if I walk through?”

“You won’t return.”

He stared at the mist beyond the arch. The thought should have terrified him, yet an odd calm settled over him. “Why me?”

The old man smiled faintly. “Because you saw the lantern.”

The forest was silent. Even the sound of dripping water had stopped. Adeel took a deep breath. Every part of him wanted answers, but some questions, he realized, could only be asked on the other side.

He stepped forward.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the air changed—warmth flooded his chest, the fog dissolved into gold, and a vast meadow spread out under a sky streaked with colors he had no words for. Somewhere far ahead, the sound of rushing water called to him.

He turned back.

The stone arch stood behind him, but the old man was gone. Only the lantern remained, hanging from the arch’s peak, burning steady and bright.

Adeel smiled. He didn’t know where he was, but for the first time in years, he felt exactly where he was meant to be.