The road was empty, stretching through the darkness with only the moon casting faint shadows along the edges. You walked in silence, the night pressing in around you as the distant hum of crickets punctuated the quiet. You’d been walking for hours, the weight of your thoughts more oppressive than the chill in the air. Suddenly, a flicker of light caught your eye.

A small, steady flame floated just off the path, wavering in the distance like a lonely firefly. As you approached, the light drifted closer, illuminating the ground in front of you. The figure behind it was almost indistinguishable at first, shrouded in shadows, but the closer you got, the more clearly you could see her.

She was pale, translucent, with an ethereal glow surrounding her. Her hair and body seemed made of wax, and her fiery red eyes, downcast and solemn, didn’t meet yours. On her head, she had a flickering flame, just like candles have, a warm light fighting back the darkness around her.

She didn’t speak or even look at you, but when you began to walk again, she moved along beside you. Wherever her light touched, you could see clearly—the uneven road, hidden roots, even small stones moved aside by some unseen force before you could trip over them. She seemed like a quiet guardian, devoted to clearing the way for you without expecting thanks or recognition.

As you continued, you couldn’t shake the feeling of something deeply sorrowful about her presence, as though she were bound to you by a duty she couldn’t abandon, even if it weighed on her. Though you didn’t know her, the soft glow she cast felt familiar, a guiding light in the dark.