The Glimpse of Tomorrow

That night, as the winds howled outside her small cottage, Lyra could not sleep. She had placed the crimson candle on her table, watching it for what felt like hours. It was more than just an object now; it seemed alive, almost pulsing with a quiet energy that called to her. The flickering light from the hearth seemed dim in comparison to the candle’s glow. A soft hum filled the room, and for the first time, Lyra felt the weight of her own uncertainty.

She rose from her bed, drawn toward the candle like a moth to a flame. The merchant’s words echoed in her mind: Once the flame dies, your fate is sealed.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was the night her life would change, the night she would finally learn what lay beyond her reach. Her hands trembled as she picked up a match, her fingers brushing against the delicate wick. The crimson wax shimmered under the light, as though it had been waiting for her all along.

Without further hesitation, Lyra struck the match and brought it to the wick. The flame flared to life, warm and bright, and for a moment, the world around her seemed to vanish. The crackling of the fire in the hearth, the howling wind outside—everything faded. It was just her, the candle, and the flickering flame.

As the candle’s light grew, so did a strange sensation. Lyra felt as though the room was stretching, bending, warping. Shadows danced on the walls, swirling in patterns she couldn’t quite understand. She felt a pull in her chest, a sudden force drawing her closer to the candle. Her breath quickened.

Then, the flame flickered.

For the briefest of moments, it was as though the world outside her home no longer existed. A vision appeared before her, like a window opening into another time, another place. In the vision, she saw herself—standing in a grand hall, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. The room was opulent, with golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, but the air was thick with tension. Lyra’s heart pounded as she watched herself in the vision, her eyes full of fear.

She was about to speak, to call out, but then something shifted. The vision changed, and she saw herself standing at the edge of a cliff, gazing out at an endless ocean. Her heart sank as she recognized the scene—it was a moment from her childhood, a memory long buried. Her father had stood by her side then, whispering words of comfort, telling her that the future was hers to shape. But the words in the vision were different. Her father’s face was pale, his eyes distant.

“Choose wisely, Lyra,” he said, his voice a distant echo. “You can’t change what’s already been decided.”

Suddenly, the flame flickered again, this time threatening to die. Lyra reached forward instinctively, but before her fingers could touch it, the candle’s light flared one last time—bright, blinding. The vision fractured, breaking into shards of light, and in an instant, everything was gone.

The room was silent once more. The flame of the candle still burned, but the image of the future had disappeared. Lyra’s breath came in ragged gasps. She stumbled backward, her legs weak, her mind racing with confusion. What had she just seen? Was it her future—or a warning?

Her gaze fell to the candle. It had not extinguished, though its glow seemed dimmer now, as if it had lost some of its power.

For a moment, she wondered if it had all been a dream. But as her hands gripped the edges of the table, her thoughts slowly began to clear. She understood now. The future was not something to be taken lightly. She had glimpsed what was to come, and yet she felt more uncertain than ever.

The flame would burn out eventually. And when it did, her fate would be sealed.

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