A Candle In The Wind ملاحظة قصصية · Revelwood

"My life can be measured in hours, I serve by being devoured. Thin, I am quick. Fat, I am slow. Wind is my foe. What am I?"

Such was the riddle I solved to become a Scholar. And it was a simple riddle, really.

"You’re a candle", I said without letting the question rest, eyes still fixated on the elder Ancient‘s lips.

I was never a believer. Yes, I answered the Ancient's riddle — became a Scholar of the Empyrean. Perhaps I was curious. Enamored by the prospect of scouring the world for knowledge. But a devout follower of the Flame, I was not.

Still, I followed the call and brought many a scroll and secret into the Night Sanctums, along with lit candles and reading glasses.

The knowledge was said to vanish without a trace during the day, but I was certain this would prove to be a simple magic trick. A riddle to solve. A candle in the wind.

I’ve lingered in the Sanctum, listened at the door, and observed the closed entrance as it stood dormant during the midday hours.

I never saw an Ancient or trickery. Whatever wisdom I stored in the Sanctum was gone the next day.

Every time, the only thing they leave is the candle. Snuffed out, sitting alone in the dark, and devoured.

45th of Yearfall, 383 D.A.