Igniting the Iron Beacon

Night seized the library steps, dousing the stone in biting black chill. Near the locked chain, an abandoned cast-iron storm lantern sat resting on the masonry riser, its rusted vented chimney cold and barren. A loose stub of thick beeswax candle sat tipped crooked inside its square glass housing. I glided across the flagstones, planted my hanging block limbs against the bottom step, and pressed my mouth portal to the open draft grate. Unleashing a sudden, pinpoint spark from my core, I ignited the wick. The dark lantern flared into a steady, four-sided golden beacon, anchoring the cold perimeter for the night.