The Lantern Outpost

Night settles over the stone rooftops, stretching the balustrade's black iron silhouettes across the cold flagstone. Near the masonry corner, an old copper storm lantern sits anchored against the brick. I approached with measured cadence and gripped its tarnished clasp with both hands. The tiny latch yielded with a dull, firm snap, swinging the glass pane ajar. Inside, a dense wax stub and blackened wick rest untouched by the breeze. Resting my gauntlet against the beveled frame, I aligned the lantern’s metal spire against the distant illuminated gables. A fortified redoubt for the nocturnal watch.