After the earthquake, the city lay silent—streets cracked, buildings broken, and hope buried under dust. Mara wandered through the ruins, clutching a small lantern she found among the debris. Its flame never flickered, even against the cold winds.

At night, when despair weighed heavy, the lantern glowed brighter, casting shapes on the walls—faces of people who once lived, their smiles warm and comforting. Guided by its light, she uncovered pockets of survivors, children trapped but alive, voices calling out in the dark.

For the first time, she realized: the lantern wasn’t meant to chase shadows. It was meant to lead her toward the living.