The Last Lantern

The Dimming World

The sun hadn’t risen in twelve years.

People called it the Long Dark—a mysterious, creeping shadow that spread from the north and swallowed light. Day by day, the skies dulled. First, it was just the stars that vanished, then the moon, and finally the sun itself. Crops failed, animals wandered into the darkness, and towns emptied. The world forgot the color of dawn.

In the forgotten village of Liora, nestled deep within the Whispering Pines, lived a girl named Elen. She was seventeen, with tangled auburn hair, a curious mind, and the stubborn belief that light still mattered. Her parents, like most villagers, had grown silent over the years—resigned, cautious, surviving. But Elen… Elen dreamed of fire.

Her grandfather, now long gone, used to tell stories of the Lantern Keepers—guardians of a sacred flame said to be older than the stars. “When the last light fails,” he would whisper, eyes glowing in candlelight, “a Keeper shall rise.”

Elen remembered every word.

II. The Keeper’s Flame

One morning, if it could be called that, Elen found a rusted lantern beneath the floorboards of her grandfather’s workshop. It was unlike anything she'd seen—etched with runes, heavy as stone, and cold to the touch. When she opened its glass door, a single ember glowed inside, no larger than a grain of rice.

It pulsed.

She gasped and dropped it, but the lantern did not break. Instead, the ember flared brighter—faint but alive.

For the first time in years, she felt warmth on her fingers.

She showed the lantern to the village elders. They stared in awe, then turned away, muttering about dangers, curses, and “disturbing the balance.” But Elen couldn’t let it go. Something inside her told her this was meant for her—that the ember chose her.

III. Into the North

With the lantern wrapped in thick cloth, Elen left Liora that very night. Her only guide was an old map her grandfather had sketched by memory. It showed a path north—through the Hollow Marsh, past the Ashen Spires, and into the Heart of Shadow, where the last Temple of Light was rumored to stand.

The world outside the village was quiet and cold. Shadows whispered as she passed. Sometimes, she thought she saw eyes watching her, flickers in the dark. But the lantern grew stronger with every step she took north. The ember inside flickered in warning when danger neared and glowed warmer near forgotten altars and ruins.

By the time she reached the Ashen Spires, it was no longer just an ember. It was a tiny flame.

IV. The Temple of Light

After weeks of travel, Elen stood before the ruins of the Temple. Moonstone arches reached toward the dead sky, and broken statues of ancient Keepers lined the entrance. The flame in her lantern danced with urgency.

Inside, darkness pressed against her like a weight. In the center of the hall stood a massive brazier, cold and empty.

She approached.

The flame pulsed wildly now, illuminating symbols on the floor that had been hidden for centuries. Elen stepped forward and held the lantern to the brazier.

The ember leapt.

In a flash, light roared into the room. The brazier blazed with golden fire, banishing every shadow. The roof above cracked open, and for the first time in twelve years, a sliver of light pierced the sky.

Elen fell to her knees, overwhelmed by warmth and color.

V. A New Dawn

The light did not stop at the Temple. It spread—slowly, surely—across the land, driving back the Long Dark. The villagers of Liora looked to the horizon and wept as dawn broke once more.

Elen returned, not as a girl, but as the first of a new generation of Keepers. She wore a robe of white and gold, the lantern at her side, its flame now eternal.

She never stopped walking. Village to village, she carried the fire, rekindling hope.

And wherever she went, the people whispered a new name:

Lightbringer.