It was a small, ancient candle, made of dark wax, with a wick that barely stood upright. The owner of the candle, an old man who lived alone in a cabin deep in the forest, always warned:

  "This candle must never go out, no matter what. If its flame is extinguished, you won't be able to stop what comes next."

  One night, Elena, a young woman from the nearby village, heard stories about the old man’s mysterious candle and decided to visit his cabin. When she arrived, she found him sitting in his chair beside the candle, staring at it with a seriousness that sent chills down her spine.

  "What’s so special about that candle?" Elena asked, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

  The old man looked at her with a mix of fear and warning.

  "This candle is the only thing keeping a presence at bay... something that should never have been called upon. If its light goes out, that thing will be released."

  Elena, skeptical, thought the old man was just trying to scare her with ghost stories. But the fear in his eyes made her hesitate. Even so, when she offered to watch over the candle so he could rest, he accepted with visible relief. Before retreating to his room, he gave her one final warning:

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  "No matter what happens, do not let the candle go out."

  Elena sat beside the candle, intrigued but still doubtful. Hours passed, and the warmth of the tiny flame kept her company, soothing her. But near midnight, a freezing wind began to seep through the cabin walls, making the candle’s flame flicker.

  Worried, Elena cupped her hands around it, trying to shield it from the wind, but the flame grew weaker.

  The air around her started to smell of damp earth and decay, as if something was emerging from the shadows. Then, she heard a whisper—soft at first, but growing louder, like a dark, guttural chant echoing from the corners of the cabin. A presence loomed closer, a shifting shadow creeping just beyond her vision.

  Finally, the candle’s flame flickered one last time and went out.

  Elena was swallowed by absolute darkness, barely breathing, when an icy hand settled on her shoulder.

  A chilling whisper reached her ear, like an ancient, desperate lament.

  "Thank you for freeing me..." the voice murmured, filled with an unfathomable hatred.

  Elena tried to scream, but no sound left her throat. A thick, dark shadow coiled around her, and as she struggled, she realized the cabin was filling with an unbearable cold, as if all warmth had been devoured by an endless abyss.

  From his room, the old man listened helplessly to Elena’s screams as the shadow dragged her away to an unknown place.

  By morning, the cabin was empty.

  But on the table, the candle had reignited, its flame burning softly, waiting for its next victim—

  as if nothing had ever happened.