Keichin

Keichin trims the wick of the central lantern, its flame steadying in their calloused hands. They tell the younger ones that the call of the unknown is a noble pursuit, painting charming pictures of mapping the wilder green woods beyond the amber-leaved clearing. It's a comforting story, and one they have told so often it almost feels true. But in the quiet moments, when it's just them and the gentle hiss of oil, they admit the truth. The joyful singing from the village started to sound like a cage. They are not exploring the forest; they are escaping the stillness within themself. Their pack is heavy not with supplies, but with a quiet that follows them everywhere. These lanterns don't just light the path for others; they burn bright enough to keep the shadows of a too-peaceful life from catching up.