Eldric's boots crunched along the winding road that led from Wyrmgate back toward Ashwell.
Lanterns glowed at intervals, painting pools of warmth against the night. Smoke from hearths drifted faintly through the air, carrying the scent of bread, coal and wet earth. He had walked this route countless times, yet each night felt new. Faces changed, villages rose and fell, but the rhythm of flame and shadow remained constant.
The first lantern marked the outskirts of Ashwell, the mining village heavy with soot and the echo of pickaxes long at rest for the night. An old miner, Master Halvik, leaned against a lantern post, his missing hand wrapped in a leather glove.
"Keeper." Halvik rasped, "you again. Thought you'd gone past while I slept."
Eldric bowed slightly. "The lanterns do not rest."
Halvik chuckled, the sound rough as gravel.
"Nor do you, it seems. Seen anything moving in the woods lately?"
Eldric shook his head.
"Shadows pass. Nothing that cannot be driven back with light."
"Ha." Halvik muttered. "You've been saying that for... how many decades now? I've lost count."
Eldric smiled faintly.
"Time moves differently along the road."
By the next lantern, a small child ran laughing along the edge of the road, chasing the flickering glow. Eldric recognized the excitement: curiosity untouched by fear.
"Hello." he said quietly.
The child froze, eyes wide.
"You're the one who lights the lanterns, aren't you?"
"Yes." Eldric replied. "And you?"
"I'm Maris!" she said, skipping closer. "I saw you before. My grandmother says you've been doing this forever!"
Eldric crouched slightly to meet her gaze.
"Perhaps longer than anyone remembers. But the lanterns always need care."
Maris nodded solemnly, as if she understood, and ran back to her home. Eldric watched her disappear into the warm glow of the village.
For centuries, children had run past him like this, lives fleeting, yet the lanterns remained.
He passed the market square where a late baker arranged crates, flour dusting his tunic. Lira of Brindleford, now carrying a tray of fresh bread for Eldric, waved from the corner.
"You're late tonight, Keeper." she called, smiling whilst stretching out a loaf of bread. "The wheat fields smell different after rain, don't they?"
Eldric accepted the bread.
"They do. And the lanterns must shine even brighter when the air is thick."
Lira tilted her head.
"Do you ever get tired of walking? Of all this... responsibility?"
Eldric considered her question carefully. "Sometimes." he admitted.
"But it is not mine alone. These roads, the lanterns... they are older than I am and they will last longer, I hope, than any one of us."
She looked at him for a long moment, then shrugged.
"I suppose that's why we see you as part of the road itself. As if you belong everywhere at once."
Eldric smiled faintly. "Perhaps that is true."
As he neared the edge of Hollowfen, he spotted Callen again, the boy standing by the last lantern before the marsh, clutching his toy lantern like a talisman. Eldric's gaze softened.
"You're following me again." he said quietly.
Callen's eyes widened. "I... I just want to see the lanterns and... and you."
Eldric nodded.
"Very well. But keep your distance. The road can be dangerous for those who wander too far."
Callen nodded obediently, watching as Eldric inspected the lanterns. He lit each one carefully, the amber glow spreading like warmth across the misty marsh. Every movement was deliberate, patient, a ritual that had been repeated for countless decades, centuries, perhaps millennia.
The boy's gaze followed the Keeper's hands, absorbing the method, the care, the devotion.
Eldric said nothing of teaching yet.
For now, Callen was simply a witness, a flicker of curiosity on the edge of a long, long road.
By the time Eldric continued on, the village homes behind him were silent, lanterns glowing like stars scattered across the misty landscape. He felt the weight of centuries in his chest, the echoes of countless lives passing before him.
And yet, with every flame he lit, every shadow he held at bay, the road seemed to whisper its approval.
The Keeper walked on and the lanterns glowed. But somewhere, beyond the trees, the dark watched, patient as always.