In the sinister and ominous fog of midnight, four weary travelers stumbled upon the old, abandoned mansion of Lamere Ridge. Each had been drawn in by the tales of fortune and glory heralded within its walls. Albeit unsaid, each of the group’s members had a desire, an ambition, and a goal, one so beyond them that they would unknowingly attempt a trial of will and resolve far beyond their capabilities.
Abram, the merchant, craved wealth beyond his own; Ezebelle, the reporter, sought the international acclaim of exploring such an accursed place; Gram, the soldier, aspired the glory and honor of slaying any and all threats to the empire; and Victor, an alchemist, hungered for knowledge, ancient and forbidden. Together, they entered the mansion, each believing that they would be the one to reap the untouched treasures within.
With each step taken, the mansion’s weathered floorboards croaked in protest. Moving through each dark room, their candles cast ominous flickering shadows across the moldy and peeling wallpaper. No matter how many empty rooms they thoroughly searched and cleared, the sense of tension that each had felt never ceased. After hours of exploration, they found themselves in the mansion’s crumbling attic. In the corner, a sputtering candle without color, yet still emitting a grayish light, greeted them.
It was then that they noticed the Lanternkeeper.
Seated behind the mysterious candle, as if warming himself to its heartless flames, he could be said to have been a decrepit, withered husk of a man with the hollowed eyes of one dead for many years. To their surprise, he spoke, but his voice was that of a low rasp, nearly drowned by the whistling wind seeping through the attic beams.
“You shouldn’t be here.”, he murmured, his eyes reflecting surprise albeit with a glint of pity. “No one should have been able to step into this accursed place. Turn back now. Wipe the memory of this place from your mind, lest you lose your lives– and your souls.”
Abram scoffed, crossing his arms. “I’ve no need to play games with a half-dead man. Give us the riches hidden you’ve been hoarding, or I’ll burn this place to the ground.”
“Riches? Wealth?” The Lanternkeeper let out a hoarse laugh. “Neither I nor this accursed dwelling of mine holds that of which you seek. There is only the lantern. The lantern that consumes all who gaze upon it, feeding upon the desires that compelled you to seek it out.
Victor, quite intrigued by such a powerful artifact, moved closer. “Is there really such a treasure? Provide us with details on this treasure, or perhaps, this creature, so that we may bring it back with us to study.”
The Lanternkeeper’s head turned towards him, making a sickening crunch as it went. His eyes, seemingly endless pits of darkness, considered him with disdain. “Do not attempt to seek it out, as doing so will only further arouse it from its slumber. As for studying it, this entity is one that cannot be studied, only feared. Attempting to do so will only lead to you poor fools being the sustenance it requires to escape this prison.”
The Lanternkeeper let out one last sigh as he leaned back against the wall behind him.
“This is my final warning. Heed it and flee this accursed place, lest you be swallowed by it, just as my companions were.”
With that, and with no time for the group to protest, the mysterious gray candle in front of them sputtered out and died, with the Lanternkeeper falling limp in response.
The group fell silent, each one too proud to acknowledge their fear albeit also visibly uneasy. Yet, despite the ominous warning given by the Lanternkeeper, they continued onward, untrustworthy of his words and compelled to find the fictitious treasure they all sought.
Abram went first, wandering off into a nearby hall after spotting a glint of something shiny and gold reflecting off the light of his candle. It was here that he spotted the lantern, gleaming brightly atop a dusty table, its light flickering in shades of gold that seemed to emanate an impossible richness. He reached for it, and within its flame he glimpsed piles upon piles of gold and jewels. To him, it seemed as if the flame was dancing, pleading for him to come closer, as if all his wishes and desires would be fulfilled should he answer the call. With greed filling his heart, he succumbed to the vision, pulled into an neverending dream of endless wealth: chests filled to the brim with coins, vaults stacked with precious metals and jewels spilling over. Delving deeper and deeper, Abram never gave up the greed within his heart and as a result, was absorbed into the lantern’s sputtering flame, and with his soul as fuel, became firewood for the lantern, with its flame growing bigger and brighter.
Ezebelle was next, lured in by faint voices hidden in the shadows. They called out to her, praising her for her exceptional journalism and bravery. In but a moment, following the sound and feeling self-satisfied, she found herself before the lantern. Gazing upon the lantern, it seemed as if Ezebelle was a celebrity in its spotlight. With each movement of the flame, a vision of fame and publicity appeared in Ezebelle’s vision. She disappeared into the lantern’s flames, enveloped in a dream of being the world’s greatest journalist, the only one brave enough to take on challenges of every accord, unfelled by corruption and ironically, the supernatural. Ezebelle sunk deeper and deeper, drowning in what was, to her, perfection.
Then it was Gram’s turn. He was a hardened soldier, with ambitions fixed on glory unachievable to him in his age. Walking through the halls, catching faint echoes of a cheering crowd, he turned a corner and came face to face with the lantern, its flame a fiery red. Within it he saw himself a hero of the people he had come to serve, one that was praised and respected by all who knew his name. With every battle he participated in, he slew many able men, and grew his reputation as a legend among his fellow soldiers. But as he reached out to embrace the lantern, the flame grew to swallow him whole.
Only Victor remained, noticing the absence of his fellow companions. Fearful, he returned to the attic, his eyes darting to the corner where the Lanternkeeper sat, limp. Touching the flame of his candle to that of the Lanternkeeper, he hoped to reawaken the one who had warned him but mere hours ago. After a few minutes of tense silence, the flame of the Lanternkeeper’s candle turned gray once more.
“I told you to turn back. Why have you reawakened me from my precious slumber?”
The Lanternkeeper’s hollow eyes flicked to Victor as he woke, with his joints and bones creaking and squeaking with each minor movement.
“I… I couldn’t,” He stammered, his voice shaky as he glanced back down the attic stairs, as if praying for one of his companions to start climbing back up.
“I fear that my fellow travelers… have all been consumed.”
“You are right in that sense,” The Lanternkeeper let out a long sigh. “I can no longer sense the three who had once accompanied you. They are long dead, in both body and mind.”
The Lanternkeeper shook his head in regret.
“However, it is their choice, and should you continue in your futile pursuit, it will be yours as well. They sought wealth, acclaim, and glory and this is the result. The lantern turns your desire into a snare. No ambition is too noble, no dream too pure to escape its grasp. It devours all. None are immune to it.”
Victor stared into the Lanternkeeper’s lifeless eyes, and at that moment, he understood. This poor soul was but one tethered to this mansion, this prison. He was there to imprison the lantern but in return, was also imprisoned himself. It was at that moment that he made a choice, a choice he hoped he would not regret.
“What if…” he whispered, “what if I found a way to destroy it?”
The Lanternkeeper smiled faintly in return. “That,” he said somberly, “would be the only true victory.”
Victor, glimpsing the lantern in the corner of his vision, saw within its flames endless knowledge, omniscience, and the power that came with such knowledge. He shook his head, his resolve hardening, and grasped the lantern, holding it at arm’s length, as if continuing to resist its pull.
“No longer will this be your prison, but mine. You shall be free, and I shall be the new Lanternkeeper, and eventually, eventually, I will find a way to destroy this accursed thing.”
The Lanternkeeper nodded, his form already fading away as Victor began to climb down the attic steps.
“Remember,” he said, his raspy voice echoing once more, “avert your eyes. Divert your gaze.”
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