The night was heavy with mist, curling low to the ground, swallowing the bases of the lantern poles in pale smoke. Eldric walked as always with his staff angled forward, the ember at its tip steady and alive. Callen trailed behind, a few steps back, trying to match Eldric's stride. He had followed before, from a distance, but now that he was beside him, permitted, even, he found the silence both reassuring and daunting.
A merchant wagon rattled along ahead of them, one wheel threatening to come loose. The driver, an old man with a crooked cap, kept looking nervously at the treeline. Shapes shifted there, not solid, but heavy enough in presence to gnaw at the heart.
When one finally slithered forth, half-formed shadow with wolfish jaws, the merchant's horse shrieked and buckled. Eldric didn't rush. He strode forward and drove the staff down into the dirt. The ground thrummed, and a pulse of light surged outward. Lanterns one by one along the road flared awake, a chain of fire leaping into brilliance.
The creatures shivered, their outlines breaking like smoke in wind. They slithered away without a sound.
The merchant stammered his thanks, bowing low before cracking the reins and vanishing up the road. Callen's eyes were wide as saucers.
"Every time I see that..." he muttered, "it feels like you're calling the stars themselves."
Eldric only brushed soot from his cloak's hem and pressed onward.
"It's not the stars." he said softly. "The lanterns have their own bond with the earth. The road remembers where the light belongs."
They walked until the mist thinned, and soon the horizon glowed faintly. Not lantern-light this time, but something older. The sun crested, spilling gold across the treetops. Eldric stopped and leaned against his staff, letting the warmth touch his face.
"It's been a week already?" he murmured, as though to himself.
Callen frowned. "What do you mean? A week... since what?"
"The sun." Eldric said, gaze fixed on the dawn. "It always disappears for seven nights straight. When it returns, it only stays for three days before yielding again. That's the way of our skies."
"But... Do you know why?" Callen tilted his head, as if trying to puzzle the world itself.
Eldric considered. "The old stories say the sun once burned endlessly. But the darkness grew jealous, and so they struck a bargain. Now the sun walks only part of the year, and the lanterns must carry its light the rest of the way."
His mouth curved into the faintest of wry smiles.
"Keeps me busy, I suppose."
Callen kicked a pebble, digesting that answer in silence. Eldric's eyes lingered on him, on the boy's stubborn curiosity. It stirred something old in his chest, a thread of memory, of Torren's voice guiding him when he was young.
"Time to head home for now." Eldric finally said.
Callen blinked. "Home?"
They left the Lantern Way and followed a smaller track, little more than a footpath through tangled brush. Birds startled as they passed.
Soon rooftops peeked through the trees and the smell of hearthfire drifted. Brindleford lay before them, its fields still silver with morning dew. Farmers were already at work, turning soil, feeding chickens.
But Eldric did not stop in the village. Instead, he skirted the edge, walking toward a narrow lane that wound behind a cluster of apple orchards.
At its end, nestled against a rise of earth and half-hidden by ivy, stood a modest stone cottage. Smoke curled from its chimney. A wooden fence leaned tiredly around a small garden of herbs and potatoes.
"This." Eldric said simply, "is home."
The door creaked as he pushed it open. Inside, the house smelled of old oak, beeswax and a faint tang of lamp oil. The main room was plain: a heavy table scarred by years of use, shelves lined with jars of dried herbs and tools, a small hearth with blackened bricks. A single lantern sat on the mantel, its glass polished to gleam.
Callen followed, silent with awe. His eyes darted everywhere, the worn boots by the door, the rack of staff-wicks bundled neatly on a wall hook, the thick tome lying open on the table, its pages filled with Eldric's careful hand.
"You… you really live here." Callen said at last, as though the idea of the Keeper owning a bed was strange.
Eldric gave him a sidelong look.
"Did you expect me to sleep standing under the lanterns?"
Callen flushed, scratching the back of his neck.
Eldric led him down a short hall.
"There's not much room, but you'll find space enough."
He opened a small door. Inside was a narrow chamber with a simple cot, a chest for clothes and a single window overlooking the orchard.
The room smelled faintly of lavender from a sprig tucked under the pillow.
Callen stepped inside, touching the wooden frame of the bed as though it were treasure. His voice came out small.
"This is... mine?"
"If you're to walk with me." Eldric said, "then you'll need a place to return to."
He rested a hand on the doorframe, golden eyes unreadable.
"Every Keeper must remember the road is endless, but a flame still needs a hearth."
Callen sat down heavily on the cot, as though afraid the dream might dissolve. His face, usually set in defiance, softened into something unguarded. For the first time in years, perhaps, he looked like a boy.
Eldric let him have the moment. He stepped back toward the main room, staff in hand. The sun was climbing higher now, and the lantern on the mantel flickered faintly as if in agreement.
Home. For both of them, for now.