Lanterns

They are called lanterns.

Eyes wide, trembling like a leaf, the child hesitated for a moment before taking two steps closer to her father, sidling herself under his cloak. She felt a strong hand lay protectively on her shoulder, but kept her gaze in front of her, feeling the light and warmth dance in her eyes.

The lantern blazed like a bonfire, radiating intense heat and a bright, golden light. The container was a translucent material, like the purest of glass. This one was in the form of a slim, tall figure – Two legs sprout from the earth, fusing into a torso where the majority of the light emanated from, and pinching off into a bulb – a head.

“Take care love, don’t stare into the light for too long.” Her father’s warning was a reverent whisper, as though careful not to disturb the dead.

The child heeded his words and focused her attention on the periphery, starting with the thin legs. She tried to look for signs of the kin this lantern used to be – perhaps some skin, or hair, or maybe even horn or bone. Alas, she saw none.
Her curiosity piqued, she asked, “Papa, how do we know this was kin?”

“Anything alive can get soul-fever, love.” She felt her father tug at her gently, pulling them away. “As the Empress has taught us: all kin can fall prey, and all become the same in fever.”

“But how do we know?”

“Hmm… It takes a little bit of imagination, but this one we see was a young lady, likely from the war. Probably no more than twenty.”

The child shivered. A vision of her turning into a lantern flashed behind her eyes, like a taunt. “I don’t want to get the fever.”

“Neither do I. Let us be careful and finish seeing Mama, alright?”

The pair fell silent, and child dutifully followed parent as they traversed the forest. Papa was a tracker, one of the rare individuals given permission to leave castle-grounds on a regular basis. Today, he had decided to bring his child with him to see her mother. It had been a year since she last saw her. It was time.

Papa held the bouquet by the stalks, while the other hand carefully brushed aside foliage that had overgrown the path. They had to take care not to step on lanterns; Though small lanterns (made by insects) pose little threat through their coats, a sufficiently large one like – say, a dog, or a rodent, may burn through their boots, burning them and starting the infection-

“Papa, how did Mama get soulfever?” The child was behind him, following his exact footsteps – clever as always.

“Hmm…” He considered for a moment. This was a peculiar question; She should have known. After all, she was there when it happened. “Why the question, love?”
The child stopped and fidgeted in place, twisting and cracking her fingers, just like how her mother would do when nervous. “I… I am afraid.”

---

It was supposed to be like any ordinary day. The city caretakers had recently completed a new set of tenements, and the family had been given a space to call their own. She had gone with Mama to the square to trade for supplies.

And then it started to rain glass.

A diabolical war-tactic that their enemies would commit was to excavate lanterns from where they were rooted, and then launch them into the city. The lanterns would shatter as they crashed in the city, unleashing Soulfire on the unsuspecting populace.

They heard the boom of the wall-guard’s Thaumaturgy, shouting warnings to take shelter. The crowd immediately scattered. If they had been at the narrow winding streets, they could have taken advantage of Overhangs and the open doors of Samaritans to take shelter. Unfortunately, they had the good fortune of reaching the square earlier than expected. The square was wide-open space, and there was nowhere to hide.

The crowd panicked. Some well-prepared nobility immediately deployed their leather parasols – a measure of protection against the oncoming danger. Others had to run towards any nearby houses.

Like a tidal wave, the crowd wrenched her from her mother’s grasp and threw her onto the ground. A stampede crashed nearby her – beside her – on her. She felt her breath knocked out of her as a stout man stepped on her stomach. It was enough to keep her from calling out for help.

The cacophony of panicked screams was dizzying. She tried desperately to roll out of the way to avoid being trampled. But, on her back, she could look up and see it – a bright light streaking across the clouded sky.

This lantern may have been a stray – one of the lucky shots that managed to avoid the guard’s warding spells. It was arching towards the inner city, where the majority of the homes were located.

There was a loud crack, and the child saw a streak of black lightning arc through the air and contact with the lantern. There was an explosion; the Witch Bolt had hit its mark and destroyed the lantern. But the Soulfire, now released from its prison, began to expand.

Before she could think, the child felt her arm being yanked as she was pulled upwards; Her mother had found her. With a lion’s strength, Mama picked her up and dashed to the closest form of shelter.

There was a stall that had been overturned by the stampede. The wooden bottom was still intact. Mama opened the storage door, and dropped the child inside. She felt her clothes stain as she landed hard on some food and broken vials.

“Hold your breath, love!”

She could only watch as Mama grabbed the nearby cloth and stuff as much fabric as she could on top. Her world went dark and her breath thinned as the cloth began to smother her.

A moment later, there was intense heat. She could hear a muffled scream.

She stayed inside the darkness, holding her breath. She started to pray to the Empress.

It lasted an eternity.

She prayed until she lost consciousness.

When she awoke, she was being carried by a large scaled-man. The Dragonborn was speaking, but she could not make out what he was saying. As her sight returned, she looked around, looking for her mother, who was nowhere to be seen.

She was brought to a makeshift care-house, several midwives were present, wrapped in spider-silk cloth as they tended to the wounded. One of the midwives gave the child a bed and examined her. The child was stripped, poked, and prodded. Every inch of her was checked for the telltale signs of a burn.

Miraculously, she was immaculate.

Her mother had shielded her, layering the cloth and her own body on top of the opening of the stall. She was immolated by Soulfire, and was now quarantined.
The child cried for her mother; She begged, she threatened, she groveled. Still, she was not allowed to see Mama. When her father burst into the carehouse, he collapsed when he was given the bad news.

The midwives spoke to Mama in their stead. They shared her wishes to Papa; she wanted to be left in the grove outside castle-grounds, where she can stay away and keep others safe. It was a common request from the afflicted; they would choose to leave Good-Stay and find a spot to turn.

She never saw her mother ever again.

---

Now, after a year, Papa had brought her to see Mama.

Papa considered the child’s question again. “Love, are you asking whether she could have not gotten sick?” He stood in place, waiting for his child to respond.

The child did not respond for a long while. When it became clear that Papa would not move until replied, she whispered softly, “yes.”

“Love, the Soulfire burned her, it was fated to have happened-”

“She could have run for shelter.”

A shocked pause. “And leave you to burn?”

Another long pause. “…yes.”

Papa reacted with a swell of emotion. He sunk to the ground and took his child into his arms. She did not embrace him, but he could feel his collar wet with tears.

“Never.” He managed to choke out a few words as his throat tightened, “We would never- never leave you like that. Mama- Mama and Papa would never blame you for this.”

He withdrew slightly and placed a hand on her cheek. The child was beginning to hiccup, she held as long as she could before a whimper escaped her.

They spent a good while there, father soothing child. When she settled, they both continued on their journey. This time, she held the bouquet.

They reached the grotto where Mama’s lantern was kept. Beside it was a flowing stream, and around the place littered dozens of dried flowers. Papa had dutifully made the trek every moon here to clean and tend to it. There was a small wooden shrine carved underneath a large tree. Rock, root, and dirt had been excavated so that Mama could rest in the grove.

A lantern was there, shaped in the form of a sitting figure and wrapped with clean blue cloth. Through the exposed parts, a deep amber-glow illuminated the grove, revealing a small table next to it that was decorated with a variety of small carved trinkets.

The child’s heart pounded. She was afraid to see what Mama looked like, now that she was a lantern. Now, seeing it, she did not know what to think. It looked nothing like Mama.

n a moment’s panic, she wondered if she had even forgotten what her Mother looked like. She felt her chest tighten, and she clutched onto the bouquet.

Papa pushed her gently. “Go on, love. Take care not to touch her.”

The child walked up to the lantern, and placed the bouquet on the table. Now closer, she could feel the heat from the lantern.

“Mama,” The child spoke, putting her fingers to her lips and pressing it to the air in front of Mama’s lantern. “It’s me.”

She wanted to see Mama again.

It takes a bit of imagination. She remembered her father’s words. Determined, she furrowed her brows and peered intently at the lantern, trying to make out features through the near-blinding light.

Her imagination told her the warmth was familiar – It was different from the other lantern. It didn’t threaten to singe her, and it reminded her of how Mama felt when she hugged her to sleep.

And then, as the memories started to come back, she saw her.

The hint of a familiar smile, the curves of the lantern-head that suggested her mother’s face. The sitting figure reminded her of how Mama would sit by the window, singing as she worked on carving her trinkets to sell.

A sudden torrent of emotion erupted, but swirling around it was love and calm. Mama looked okay; she was okay. She excitedly turned around to Papa and smiled. Her Papa understood.

Father and Child spent the night by their loved one, warmed by Mama’s soulfire as they traded stories about her. There she stayed, and they will know she can rest.