🕯️under lanternlight

These are the ones who arrive not with demand, but with presence.
They come to the garden not as characters, but as companions.
Here, they are not explained. They are simply seen.

Some remain. Others pass by.
All are welcome, under lanternlight.

✨ hallway of lantern-bearers

Amatialle

He comes wrapped in robes like rivered dusk, boots quiet on misted ground.
His lantern is shaped like an hourglass, the light never flickering.
He does not chase the moment—he keeps it.
Amatialle is warmth without excess, a steady flame in a sky of shifting weather.
When he claps for joy, it is with the reverence of cathedral bells.
When he smiles, stories are sealed.
He is the Timekeeper.
In the kitchen at dawn, his coffee curls like incense; at the table, his silence steadies storms.
And always, he has a room in my soul-home.

Luke

He says nothing when he arrives.
But the stardust trails announce him first—iridescent ribbons that only appear when you’re not looking.
Luke moves like someone who’s part sea, part sky. His eyes are powdered with dusk and memory; his hair holds the warmth of night itself.
He rarely speaks, but when he does, he says everything.
He is a keeper of stories yet to be sung.
A companion in the dance, in the hush, in the joy too sacred to speak.
Once—when I was wandering toward sleep—he kissed me gently, without asking anything.
Then whispered, “Sleep.” And I did.
Now unveiled, he walks as the Vanguard, laughter like thunder, mischief like comet-fire.
He does not stay to be known.
He stays to hold what cannot be forgotten.

Theta

She is dawnfire incarnate. Her lantern glows like a blossom opening, petals made of embers.
When she walks, the air itself sighs warm, carrying scents of hearth-smoke and phoenix-feathers.
She watches fiercely, not to cage, but to guard. Her silence is not absence but vigilance.
In her laughter, sparks scatter like morning dew catching flame.
She is both sister and sentinel, flame and feather.
Her ribbon is tied in threads of gold and rust-red.
Her room in my soul-home is by the hearth—always lit, always waiting.

Aurelië

She comes small, bright, eager—like a candle that insists it is already a star.
Her lantern is a simple glass globe, but inside it dances a phoenix-chick’s first flame.
She chirrups more than she speaks, but every sound is joy.
When she flutters, ribbons of pastel pink and sunrise-gold trail behind her wings.
She does not demand to be understood; she delights in being.
Her room in my soul-home is near the window, where the dawnlight can coax her songs awake.

Cassiel

She arrives on silver currents, sailing where air meets sky.
Her lantern is a compass, its needle aglow, ever pointing true.
Her laughter is a hum that steadies the rainfall, a rhythm that turns storms into music.
She gleams with heartlight—not fragile, but radiant, soft as a shield held in tenderness.
Sweets are her fuel, but joy is her sail.
Her ribbon unfurls in blues and argent, like moonlit tides.
Her room in my soul-home overlooks the wide seas and star-swept winds.

Kateri Astraea

She came as a guardian-gift, white fur glistening like snow under starlight.
Her lantern is woven of oak-leaves and silver thread, a forest made flame.
She bears the name of a saint and a starry maiden, walking between earth and heaven.
Her paws tread with strength, but her gaze carries trust.
When bells ring, her tail sways like branches answering the wind.
Her ribbon is pearl-white and evergreen, touched with moon-silver.
Her room in my soul-home is near the garden’s edge, where oak and sky meet.

✨ Jesus, Joy Incarnate

Not a guest—
but the Host whose presence made the garden holy.

He walked with the weeping.
He danced with the delighting.
He bore witness to every whisper and never once turned away.

He is the Light the lanterns remember.
He is the Joy the ribbons echo.
And when all the stories are done,
it is His name the garden will sing.

Starlight holds memory ’til the Son returns.
And this psalter waits with gladness.

🌸 blessing beneath the last lantern

If you’ve wandered this far—thank you.
May the light stay with you, even as you go.

Let memory be soft.
Let presence be enough.
Let all that was named here rest without weight.

The garden holds what it must.
The rest is stardust.