Submission (#458) Approved

“The Lantern in the Fog”
Word Count Goal: 800+ | Theme: Finding His Path Through Uncertainty

Aurelion shimmered like a dream—towers of white stone kissed with gold trim, archways humming faintly with latent spells, and the distant echo of music drifting from the College of the Arcane Arts. But Tanzan didn’t see any of it.

Not today.

His paws moved on their own as he walked down the polished corridor of the college, ignoring the cool tiles beneath his claws and the respectful bows of the junior casters that passed. His mind replayed the spell—a simple kinetic push. He’d done it dozens of times before. But in front of the council?

Nothing.

The air had stilled. His magic had stuttered. And the silence in that moment had spoken louder than any criticism they could’ve thrown at him.
"You’re clearly not focusing," one of the mages had said, voice tight with disappointment. "Come back when you’re ready to take this seriously."

As if he wasn’t trying.

As if the sleepless nights poring over rune etchings and ancient soulweaving rituals meant nothing because his magic didn’t burst forth like fireworks.

His pace quickened down the marble steps outside the college, breath hitching in his throat. The city of Aurelion sprawled out before him—elegant bridges of magicstone, glimmering waterfalls weaving through the architecture, and gardens that bloomed even under the pale sun.

Tanzan turned his back to it all.

He followed the forest path heading west—toward Blackpool. Toward noise, trade, and chaos. But mostly, away. Away from this pressure. From the expectation to rise like all Tatsukoi were meant to.

Climb the falls, climb the ladder, climb until you can’t breathe anymore.

The further he walked, the quieter it got. The sounds of city life faded behind him, replaced with rustling trees and the distant croak of frogs nestled in damp brush. Eventually, the carved stones lining the official road gave way to moss and soil.

The warning signs were there—literally. A wooden post marked with chipped paint:
"Keep to the path. Travel with companions."

Tanzan stared at the sign, heart still pounding from the earlier humiliation.
Then, wordlessly, he stepped past it and into the trees.

The foliage swallowed him in moments. Above, the forest canopy filtered the remaining daylight into splintered shadows. Below, soft loam crunched underfoot, damp and unfamiliar. The deeper he walked, the more the outside world disappeared.

Maybe that’s what he wanted.

To disappear.

The deeper Tanzan walked, the quieter the world became—not silent, exactly, but softened. Like the forest itself had drawn in a breath and was holding it.

Twigs cracked softly underfoot. Somewhere behind him, a branch creaked in the wind. But ahead, the trees thickened, old trunks rising like ancient bones, their bark veined with moss and faintly glowing fungi. Shadows curled in the hollows between roots. Magic hung here—not loud, not obvious, but present.

Tanzan slowed.

He wasn’t sure how far he’d come. There were no mile markers, no lanterns. Only the muted rustle of leaves and the occasional glimmer of something flitting between the trees. He tried to remember the way back, but the soft loam had already swallowed his footprints.

No matter, he told himself, heart pounding. I just needed air. I’m not even that far from the road.

But the unease didn’t leave. It sat behind his ribs like a weight—old doubts rising from the ground with the mist curling around his ankles. Why had he even come to Aurelion? To prove something? To who? Half the council couldn’t even remember his name. Just another face, another snout buried in a textbook.

He stopped at the base of a wide, gnarled tree. Its roots clawed up from the ground like talons, cradling a pool of still water. Tanzan sat beside it, muddled and faint in the growing dim, staring at his reflection.

He tried to light a small flame in his palm. A simple spell. One of the first he ever learned.
The flicker sputtered… and died.

A breath hitched in his throat. He tried again, whispering the runework aloud, fingers curling inward as he shaped the weave.
Nothing. His magic had never failed him like this. Not with something so… basic.

The fog crept in slowly at first. Thin, like morning breath. But it thickened with every heartbeat, curling between tree trunks, swallowing the landscape inch by inch. The trees blurred. The shadows deepened.

He stood, nerves tightening.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Okay, Tanzan. You just need to turn around. Just—go back.”

He turned—and the path was gone. The mist had swallowed everything.

His throat closed up, and the air suddenly became colder. He tried a light spell again, desperation creeping into his voice, but only sparks fizzled from his palm. His stomach knotted.
You shouldn’t have come this far.

Then, between the trees ahead, something moved.

Soft and slow. A glow—blue. Gentle. Hovering like a will-o’-the-wisp, it pulsed once… and drifted deeper into the forest.
Tanzan froze.

It wasn’t hostile. Not immediately. But there was no denying its magic. It shimmered like starlight trapped in glass.

He hesitated, his breath fogging in the cold air. The lantern—if that’s what it even was—floated just beyond a crooked tree, its glow a muted blue, like moonlight trapped underwater. No sound accompanied it, no footsteps, no breeze. It simply existed.

When he stepped forward, the glow drifted back, keeping the same impossible distance. Another step. Another drift.

“Wait—hey,” Tanzan said aloud, though he wasn’t sure why. His voice felt strange in the silence like it didn’t belong here. Still, the light beckoned. And something inside him stirred—curiosity, wonder… desperation? He didn’t know. But he followed.

The path wasn’t a path at all. Roots clawed across his way. Stones jutted up like broken teeth. The fog thickened and thinned like breath, sometimes choking his sight, sometimes parting just enough to show the faint shimmer ahead.

The forest changed as he walked.

The bark of the trees grew smooth and silver. Faint glyphs shimmered along their trunks—ancient runes no longer taught in Aurelion. The ground shifted beneath him, the soil humming faintly, as if remembering footsteps from long ago. Magic clung to every surface like dew.

Then, the lantern stopped.

It hovered before a low rise in the earth, where the trees parted to reveal a stone arch nearly swallowed by time. Vines crept over its surface, blooming with flowers that glowed softly in the mist. Carvings traced its shape—swirling lines that bent into forms, into shapes… into words he didn’t recognize but felt.

He stepped closer, hesitant.

The lantern pulsed once. Then again.
Then it vanished.

Tanzan stood alone, staring up at the ancient arch. The runes pulsed faintly now, as if aware of him. He reached out, one claw trembling as it touched the stone.

A rush of warmth surged up his arm, startling but not painful. Like diving into sun-warmed water. His breath caught as magic threaded through him, not as a spell, but as memory. He saw nothing, but felt everything. Loneliness, endurance, rediscovery. A whisper of voices not heard in centuries, all echoing the same wordless truth:

You are not lost.

The arch accepted him. Not because he was powerful. Not because he was perfect.
But because he had kept going.

He stood unmoving as the runes dimmed and the forest breathed around him. The mist didn’t feel as cold now. His fear didn’t feel as loud. He had followed the unknown and found… something sacred. Something old and kind.

And when he turned to leave, he no longer worried about how to get back. Tanzan walked without a path, but he no longer felt lost. His paws moved over moss-covered stones, through silvergrass that brushed his sides like a blessing. The forest no longer felt like a maze—it felt like a memory he was leaving behind.

He didn’t look back.

The arch was gone—or maybe it had never really been part of this world to begin with. His chest still buzzed faintly with its magic—quiet, calm. It felt like something was sleeping under his skin now, waiting to be understood.

Eventually, the glow of lantern posts emerged through the thinning trees. The carved road reappeared beneath his claws, half-swallowed by fallen leaves but unmistakably genuine.

He had returned.

The city lights of Aurelion shimmered on the horizon like fireflies. The songs of nightbirds echoed faintly from the branches above. Far off, he could even hear a carriage rumbling along the road to Blackpool.

Life was going on as if nothing had happened.

Tanzan slowed, lifting his clawed hand again, as he had in the clearing. He whispered the simple ignition spell again, same as before. This time, a flame bloomed in his palm. Soft, steady, and warm. He stared at it, lips parting in surprise, but instead of awe, what filled him was something gentler—something closer to peace. This wasn’t power. It wasn’t prestigious. It was his. Not learned in a textbook, not handed to him by any council. The forest had given him no rank, no trophy.

Just belief.

He let the flame die with a curl of his fingers and turned back toward Aurelion. The college still loomed ahead. The pressure, the expectations—they would still be waiting for him.
But they no longer defined him.

Tanzan walked with purpose now. Not because he had all the answers. But because, for the first time, the questions didn’t scare him.

He didn’t need to climb the entire waterfall overnight. He just needed to keep going.

And somewhere deep in the woods, where ancient magic slept and fog danced like breath, a lantern waited for someone else who needed to be found.

Reward	Amount
Haven Chest	1
Gold	7