BENEATH THE LANTERN'S GLOW

eneath the Lantern’s Glow

The cobblestone streets of Old Hollow whispered secrets only the wind could carry. The flickering lanterns that lined the narrow alleyways painted pools of golden light, chasing away shadows that danced just out of reach. Beneath one such lantern stood Maren, her face half-hidden by a tattered cloak.

She wasn’t waiting for anyone, or at least, that’s what she told herself. Her fingers traced the edge of a folded note tucked into her pocket—a message she’d found pinned to her door that morning.

_"Midnight. Beneath the lantern’s glow. Answers await."_

Maren’s heart raced, though she kept her posture steady. The note could mean a trap or salvation. It had been three months since her brother disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only the faint smell of burnt parchment in his study and an unease that had settled like fog in her chest.

A shadow stirred at the edge of the light. Maren tensed, her hand slipping to the dagger strapped to her thigh.

“You came,” a voice rasped, low and familiar.

Stepping forward was a man cloaked in darkness, but as he tilted his head, the faint light revealed his face. It was her brother—or what was left of him. His skin was pallid, his eyes sunken and glowing faintly like embers.

“Rory?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“I don’t have much time,” he said, his voice brittle. “They’re coming for me, and if you’re not careful, they’ll come for you too.”

Maren stepped closer, desperate to touch him, to confirm he was real, but he held up a trembling hand to stop her.

“Listen,” he continued, his words hurried. “The lanterns—they’re more than they seem. They watch. They listen. And they—”

A deafening screech pierced the air, cutting him off. Maren spun, her dagger drawn, but the source of the sound was nowhere in sight. When she turned back to her brother, he was gone, replaced only by a single feather, black and shimmering faintly under the lantern’s glow.

Maren picked it up, her hands shaking. The feather pulsed with a cold energy, and as she held it, a strange sensation washed over her—a voice, soft and distant, whispered in her mind.

_"Find the keeper of the lanterns, or lose yourself to the shadows."_

The lantern above her flickered, and for the first time, Maren noticed how the shadows seemed alive, reaching toward her like hungry tendrils.

She didn’t have much time.