By dawn the Lantern Festival was over. Wren walked the rows along the river, pinching out flame after flame. Every paper lantern died at her touch but one. It hung at the water's edge, glowing a steady gold no breeze could shake. When she reached for it, the little wick leaned away from her fingers and tugged its string, like it wanted her to follow.

Wren untied the string and let the lantern go. Instead of drifting up, it floated forward, low over the path, waiting for her to keep up. "Okay," she whispered. "Lead, then." It bobbed once, like a nod, and started down the riverbank.

Halfway down the bank, the lantern stopped at an old fishing boat half-sunk in the reeds. It dipped low and lit up a name carved into the wood: ELI. The light pulsed warmer, like a heartbeat, waiting for Wren to understand who Eli was.

Wren climbed into the sunken boat and grabbed the rope. To her shock, the lantern's light lifted the whole boat free of the mud, gliding it across the water toward the far shore where a single window glowed. Someone over there had been waiting a very long time.