The Lantern's Keeper

1: The Three Realms

𓇢𓆸🀥🎐‧₊˚☼

The world was devided for a very long time, not by the boundaries of oceans or the heights of mountains, but by the existence itself.

There were three realms—The Living, the In-Between, and the Shadow—that sits one on top of the other like pieces of glass, each unique yet connected closely.

The Living Realm was full of life. It was a joyful world with bustling cities, endless forests, and vast oceans. Here, lives the mortals where their lives played out in a complex web of love, hardships, and ambition. It was the place where stories started and, without a doubt, where stories end.

The In-Between Realm was a kind of in-between space, an area that's constantly changing filled with mist and memories. Time and form were unclear here, making it a strange and otherworldly place full of pieces of the past—tress that were starting to fade away, building that were falling apart, and whispers of voices that were almost forgotten. Souls passed through this realm on their journey to the afterlife, guided by the light of the lanterns.

And then there was the Shadow Realm, a place of hidden hunger and hopelessness. This is the place where the lost souls were taken, where shadowlings—evil beings that came from corruption—grew and thrived. They want to consume both souls of the living and the dead, because it makes them stronger every time they took a soul.

In between these realms were the Lantern Keepers, the protectors of the bakance.

But Harlen was the only one left.

𓇢𓆸🀥🎐‧₊˚☼

At first look, Harlen looked like he was no more than twenty-five years old. His young-looking face is covered by messy black hair and a light bit of stubble. But his sharp gray eyes held the weight of many centuries. There was a depth in them that didn't suit his youthful appearance. He had been living for 445 years, a life that was either a gift or a curse because of his sworn duty to the lanterns.

Harlen stood at the edge of the Lantern Tower and looked out at the foggy In-Between Realm. He was able to see small dots of light from where he was. The small dots of light were souls that were wandering around with no purpose. Their brightness was dimmed by fear and confusion. From far away, the darkness was moving, and shadows were sliding around at the edges of what he could see.

The Lantern Tower used to be a strong beacon of light and hope. But now, it was a collapsing monument from a time that had been forgotten. Its tall spires, that used to shine with magical protections, were now chipped and worn down by time. Vines were starting to climb up the stone walls and their dry leaves are creating soft sounds in the wind.

But the tower still had some life left inside. Harlen went down the spiral staircase that led to the lantern chamber. His barefoot made no sound on the old stone steps—he was walking like a feather.

The chamber opened in front of him. It was a wide, round room filled with many rows of lanterns. Some are floating in the air, and some are floating on the water below. Each flame was different. Some burned brightly and steady, while others flickered weakly, like their light was barely able to hold on against the darkness that was getting closer.

Harlen walked among the rows with a grace that came from years of experience and practice. His eyes carefully scanned the flames, looking for any signs of problems. He stopped in front of a lantern that had a soft, golden glow.