“The Lantern Keeper”

In the small coastal village of Eldermoor, where fog clung to the cliffs like a shroud, Mira tended the lighthouse. Every night, she climbed the spiraling stairs, her boots echoing against the stone, to light the lantern that guided ships safely past the jagged rocks. The villagers called her the Lantern Keeper, a title passed down from her mother, who had vanished at sea a decade ago. Mira was only sixteen, but her hands were steady, her resolve unshaken by the whispers of townsfolk who said the lighthouse was cursed.

Mira’s only companion was an old journal her mother had left behind, its pages filled with sketches of stars and cryptic notes about “the light that binds.” She read it obsessively, searching for clues to her mother’s fate. One stormy night, as thunder rattled the lighthouse, Mira noticed something new in the journal: a sketch of the lantern itself, with the words, “The keeper’s choice burns brightest.”

The storm grew fiercer, and a ship’s distress signal flashed through the mist. Mira’s heart raced. The lantern’s flame flickered, weaker than it should have been. She checked the oil—nearly empty. There was just enough to keep the light burning until dawn, but not enough to intensify it for the struggling ship. In the journal, she found a final note: “To save another, the keeper must give her own light.”

Mira stared at the lantern, then at the stormy sea. She thought of her mother, who had always said, “The light is our promise to the world.” With trembling hands, Mira poured the last of her personal lamp oil—meant for her own warmth through the night—into the lantern. The flame roared to life, cutting through the fog. The ship’s signal steadied, and by morning, it had anchored safely in Eldermoor’s harbor.

Exhausted and chilled, Mira sat by the dimming lantern. She hadn’t found her mother, but she felt a warmth that wasn’t from the flame. The villagers, who had watched the light pierce the storm, no longer whispered of curses. They left baskets of bread and wool at the lighthouse door, calling her their guardian. Mira closed the journal, knowing some choices lit paths no map could show.