In a small, isolated village nestled in the shadow of a great mountain, there lived a man named Karun. Karun was the Light Steward, a role passed down through generations. Each evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he would walk the cobbled paths, lighting the village lanterns one by one. At dawn, he would retrace his steps, extinguishing them with care. The lanterns were more than mere tools to push back the darkness; they were symbols of safety, community, and continuity. For decades, Karun performed his task with unwavering diligence, ensuring the village never fell into shadow.
The villagers respected him, though few truly knew him. Karun’s life was solitary, his days shaped by his sacred duty. Karun was further isolated from the villagers by the rhythms of their lives: he worked under the stars, tending the lanterns while the villagers slept, and he slept while they labored under the sun. He spoke little and lived simply in a modest hut on the outskirts of the village. None of this even registered in Karun’s mind, however: beneath his quiet demeanor lay a deep, abiding devotion to his role. “The light must never falter,” he would say, though no one had ever seen him falter either. (more…)
