The Lantern at the Crossroads
By Nyx Seshat
The moon cast no light here. Trees stretched up to the sky, their branches spreading and weaving themselves together. The wind moved, but they could not feel it, only hear it stirring the branches. Stumbling along the path, they couldn’t remember how they got here. For how long had they journeyed? For how long had it been dark? A noise stirred somewhere within the trees. Was it the wind? An animal? Oddly, they felt no fear, only momentary wonder and then it was forgotten. What was that shape ahead? Something beside the path? Yes. Definitely something beside the path. Something … skinny? Why was the top slightly larger? What was it?
They stumbled along, clinging desperately onto the only thing they had seen in what felt like forever. A lantern! It was a lantern! They were almost there. Maybe they could light it. Reaching out, they ran their fingers along the dirty, frosted glass. As their fingers slid down the glass the lantern began to glow. Softly at first, almost dying out if they removed their hand. Within a mere blink the lantern exploded with light. The Traveler stumbled back, their vision flashing, black moving dots marring the images before them. “Stand, lost one,” a voice resonated in their ears. They took a moment, blinking through the sudden impairment, “Who’s there?”
“I have no name. All I have to offer is a way forward.”
Their eyes began to focus. The lantern now stood as a glimmer in the dark. Its pale green light swayed within it’s casing. From the top of the lantern green smoke curled as it took shape. An angular face appeared within the smoke, “Tell me, Traveler, what path do you seek?” The Traveler blinked in confusion. Their mind was racing. Where was I going? What was my purpose? Their head began to ache. Placing a hand on their forehead, they winced. The voice hushed them, their words giving the Traveler a reprieve. “Worry not lost one, I will ask you another question to decide your fate. What pushes you forward?” The Traveler’s shoulders stiffened, “I must keep moving. Stopping means death.” The face sighed, the smoke forming it blowing apart.
The Traveler watched the wind carrying the smoke towards the trees. The voice still echoed around them, “Come, your journey is nearly over. You have almost made it.” As it floated a new path opened. They took a step forward, not noticing the trees closing the road they had come from. They shuffled along, noticing that something was different. Unable to decipher what was different they kept moving forward, feeling lighter than before.
They never realized they too were drifting away into smoke.