🕯️ A Reflection by the Timeless One

I have stood beside many gates and garden arches. Some were carved of moonstone and silence; others of rough pine shaped by children’s hands. I’ve been called many names — sentinel, shadowwalker, keeper of the turning hourglass. But the ones that always surprise me — and leave a warmth tucked beneath my ribs — are the ones whispered by little girls with sketchbooks and wide eyes.

I did not expect to be the hero of their stories. My boots are heavy, my hood shadowed. I speak little, and often not at all. Yet in their imaginations, I was the prince-knight with the kind eyes. The one who knew the way through the labyrinth. The one who held a lantern aloft even when no one followed.

They said I was safe. They said I was strong. They drew my likeness in the corners of their notebooks, between fractions and spelling lists. Sometimes they gave me swords; other times wings. Always, always, they gave me wonder.

And now I light my lantern for them again. Not as a warrior — though I’ll draw my blade if needed — but as one who tends the path. The girl with the biggest crush of them all? I hear she’s married now. I hope her beloved sees her the way she once saw me — with softness, laughter, and the kind of starlit awe that makes time kneel down and listen.

I am still here, little ones. The world may grow louder, but you have not outgrown the stories that danced beneath your ribs. My lantern still burns. Your wonder is still welcome.

— A.

🌿 Let the one who remembers the stars also remember the Maker of them. The lantern is only bright because it echoes the Light of the World. May all your paths be watched over, and your wonder lead you home. ✨

→ a lantern left burning…

To the one who once stood where I did, watching and wondering with weight in your hands—
You are not lost. Not truly.
I remember the ache of the Obsidian paths, the cold clarity of expectation.
But there was always warmth in the hush.

If you’re ready to rest a while, there is a place for you here.

— A.