The Wanderer’s Arrival

It was an evening like any other when the wanderer appeared, though none in the town of Dunwick could have known the significance of that moment. The cold wind blew through the cobbled streets, and the faint glow of lanterns flickered against the darkness. A market stall sat on the corner of the main square, unremarkable except for one odd detail: an array of candles, each one more intricate than the last. Their wax seemed to shimmer, as though holding secrets just beyond the surface.

The stall’s only occupant was a tall, thin man with a face veiled by a dark hood. His clothes were of a strange fabric, dark as midnight, and despite the chill, he bore no cloak to protect himself. His hands moved deftly, placing new candles in the same quiet manner one might arrange delicate treasures. There was no banner proclaiming his wares, no advertisement to catch the eye—only a simple sign reading, "Candles of Fate".

Curiosity, however, began to stir in the town, for the strange merchant had not been seen before. As the evening wore on, more townsfolk wandered toward the stall, drawn by an unseen force. They stopped, peering at the candles with growing interest. Each one was different: some flickered with strange colors, others seemed to pulse, and a few even emitted a faint hum when touched. But none could match the allure of the candle in the center of the stall. It was unlike any other—a wax of deep crimson, crowned with a black wick that looked almost alive.

A young woman named Lyra, new to the town and still finding her way, approached the stall hesitantly. She’d heard whispers of the strange merchant, of how he’d sold candles that showed glimpses of the future. She had laughed at the notion, thinking it nothing more than superstition. But today, something in her heart told her it was no mere story.

"How much for that one?" Lyra asked, pointing to the crimson candle. Her voice trembled with a mix of skepticism and a strange yearning.

The man’s hood turned ever so slightly toward her, his voice soft yet clear. "For you, a bargain," he said, lifting the candle as though it weighed nothing. "It will show you what you most desire to know. But remember, once it burns, your fate is sealed."

Lyra’s breath caught. “My fate?”

The man nodded, his face still hidden beneath his hood. "The future it reveals is not without consequence. Once the flame dies, so does the freedom to change what is shown."

She hesitated. What if the candle showed her the truth of her life, the one thing she’d always been too afraid to face? What if she saw nothing at all? But there was a pull—a voice inside her urging her to find out. What would it reveal? She had spent too many nights wondering about her own destiny, too many moments searching for answers in a life that seemed always on the edge of a turning point.

"I’ll take it," Lyra said, her voice firmer now, as if some invisible hand had made the decision for her. She reached into her purse, pulling out the last of her savings. The merchant didn’t flinch. He accepted the coins with a knowing look, then handed her the candle. It was warm in her hands, though the night was cold.

“Once you light it, remember that you are ready to face whatever it shows you," he said. His voice carried a weight she couldn’t explain.

Lyra nodded, pocketing the candle and turning away. Her heart raced with anticipation, but as she walked into the darkening streets, a single thought lingered in her mind.

What if the future was something she wasn’t meant to know?

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