Lanterns Over the River Vale

The last warm breeze of late autumn drifted through River Vale as the sun lowered itself behind distant hills. Shades of amber and rose glimmered over the rooftops of wooden houses, over the arched stone bridge, and over the lanterns already being lit in preparation for Harvest Night. It was a peaceful valley known for its golden fields and slow winding river, but in this season it carried a quiet melancholy, as if every gust of wind whispered about the things taken by time.

Althea Morwen stood alone at the edge of the old pier, her fingers gripping the railing as she watched the water move slowly past her boots. Her dress of soft brown linen fluttered lightly. Stray curls of chestnut hair brushed her cheeks. She had returned to River Vale only three days earlier after five years in the coastal city of Eldengard, where she had studied painting and illumination. Her father had passed during her absence, leaving her with a grief that settled so deeply she had chosen to stay in silence for most of the evenings.

She had not expected the memories to be so intense. Nor had she expected to see Rowan Alder again.

Rowan had been her childhood companion, the boy who always found the courage she thought she lacked. Together they had run through fields, climbed trees, fished in the shallows of the river, and whispered secret dreams about the world beyond the valley. But the day she left, Rowan had been distant. He had barely looked at her as the carriage door closed. There had been no farewell, only a cold expression she had never understood.

As she looked down into the river, footsteps approached on the wooden planks.

I wondered if it was really you, Althea, the voice said quietly.

She turned. Rowan stood a few steps from her. Time had reshaped him. His once unruly hair was now tied back. His shoulders broader. His tunic of deep forest green embroidered with silver branches marked his role as one of the Vale Wardens. His dark eyes held the same depth as before, but there were new lines of worry, perhaps responsibility, around them.

Rowan, she said, her voice softer than she intended.

He moved closer, leaving a respectful distance between them. The lantern light reflected in the steady calm of his gaze. Were you planning to say anything, or will you remain by the pier every evening forever

She exhaled sharply but without irritation. The truth was she did not know how to begin. This valley looks smaller than I remember.

It is the same as ever, he replied, though some things change without our approval.

There was something restrained in his voice. Something unsaid. She could not ignore it.

You knew my father, Rowan. It was not a question but a recognition.

He nodded. I saw him often. He spoke of you with pride. He never doubted you would return.

Her eyes stung. The breeze carried the scent of river reeds and smoke from the early lanterns.

Thank you, she whispered.

For a moment, they simply watched the river together. People crossed the stone bridge above them, carrying baskets, fabric streamers, and small wooden instruments. Harvest Night was the valley’s most cherished tradition. Every year lanterns were released over the water to honor those loved and lost.

Rowan finally spoke again. If you wish, you can join the procession tonight. Your father would have wanted that.

Would you

A shadow flickered across his face. Perhaps, he replied quietly. I have not joined the lantern dance for three years.

Why

His gaze drifted away toward the hills. Because grief does not make room for celebration.

The sadness she heard in his tone startled her. Something had happened during the years she was gone. She felt a thread of worry pull at her heart.

Rowan, what did you lose

He did not answer. Instead, he turned toward the village, motioning gently for her to follow.

Come. The lantern masters are gathering. If you wish to make one, I will help you.

She hesitated, then walked beside him, listening to the shifting leaves and distant laughter. The village glowed with candlelight, children prepping small paper lanterns, musicians tuning lutes. Yet beneath the warm atmosphere, she sensed a strange tension in Rowan. A heaviness he tried to hide.

Inside the lantern hall, they took a seat at a low wooden table scattered with rice paper, brushes, and thin wooden frames. Rowan’s hands moved carefully, folding the paper with practiced precision.

You have done this many times, she said quietly.

Every year, except the recent ones.

Althea picked up a brush and dipped it in red ink. She painted curved lines, representing the river currents, then soft golden circles representing the sun. Painting had always calmed her, but tonight her fingers trembled slightly.

When she finished, Rowan examined her work with a faint smile. Your style has changed. There is more softness. More longing.

Is that criticism or observation

Just truth.

His hand brushed hers accidentally as he reached for the frame. A small shock moved through her. She pulled her hand back too quickly.

Rowan noticed but said nothing.

The lanterns were placed on a long table to dry. Villagers continued to arrive in small groups, and musicians began playing a gentle melody from outside. Althea looked around, noticing how naturally Rowan interacted with others. A nod here, a small instruction there. He had become something of a guide, a protector.

You have changed too, she said abruptly.

He paused. I had to.

I can see that, but you also seem farther away. As if your thoughts are places no one can reach.

His jaw tightened. Not everything should be spoken on Harvest Night, Althea.

Then when

He did not answer again. Instead, he rose and offered his hand to her. The lanterns are ready.

Outside, the air was cooler. Hundreds of lanterns floated above the river, reflected back as shimmering stars across the water’s surface. Villagers gathered in a long line at the edge of the riverbank. Rowan led Althea to a quiet space near the center.

When the ceremony bell rang, they lifted their lanterns together.

For my father, she whispered.

Rowan’s voice was barely audible. And for someone I could not save.

Her breath caught.

Rowan

But before she could speak further, he released his lantern. It drifted upward, carried by the warm air. The sorrow in his eyes deepened as he watched the small flame float away.

She stepped closer, touched his sleeve lightly. Tell me.

Finally he turned to her. Three years ago, my younger brother joined the forest patrol. There was a storm, and the river flooded. He tried to rescue a trapped farmer but the water dragged them both. I reached them too late.

Althea felt her chest tighten painfully. Rowan.

He looked away as if ashamed to show his grief. I took his place as Warden, but it did not ease the guilt. Every time I see the river I feel the weight of that night.

Althea reached up and touched his hand. She slowly intertwined her fingers with his. You carry blame that is not yours. You did everything you could.

His voice was strained. Did I

Yes.

People around them began humming softly, creating a low chorus that vibrated through the air. Rowan did not let go of her hand. Through the glow of lantern light she saw a vulnerability in him she had never noticed before. A quiet yearning hidden behind duty.

When the final lantern drifted out of reach, Rowan still had not moved.

Stay a little longer with me, he whispered.

She nodded.

They walked along the riverside where willow trees swayed gently over the path. The festival sounds faded behind them. Althea listened to the soft crunch of fallen leaves beneath their boots.

I thought you had forgotten me, she admitted after a long silence.

Rowan stiffened. Why would you think that

You barely said goodbye when I left.

He stopped walking. His expression was conflicted. I did not know how to let you go, Althea. I thought if I distanced myself you would not see how much it hurt.

Her breath hitched. Rowan.

You were going to a world far bigger than mine. You had talent, dreams. I thought loving you would hold you back.

The world around her seemed to slow.

Loving me

His voice trembled. I loved you even then. But you were leaving, so I buried it. And when you returned days ago, I did not know how to face you.

A warmth spread through her chest so intense she felt almost afraid of it.

Rowan stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper. I do not expect anything. I simply needed to tell you the truth after so many years.

Althea lifted her hand and touched his cheek gently. Rowan Alder, I left River Vale to learn the world, but every time I painted a sunrise I saw your face in the light. Every time I painted a river I saw your reflection. You were never far from me, not even for a day.

His breath caught. Althea.

She felt overwhelmed by emotion but continued. I thought you had forgotten me. I feared that perhaps your heart had changed.

He laughed softly, almost brokenly. It never changed. But I do not want to burden you. You deserve a life without the weight I carry.

She stepped even closer, their bodies only a breath apart. Then let me carry some of that weight with you. That is what love is, Rowan.

The vulnerability in his eyes broke completely. He reached for her hand slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wished. She did not.

Their fingers intertwined. Their foreheads touched lightly. The world narrowed to the steady rhythm of their breathing.

The river flowed silently beside them, lanterns drifting into the horizon like tiny burning wishes.

After a long moment, Rowan spoke. If I allow myself to love you again, I will not be able to let you go a second time.

Then do not let go, she whispered. I did not return to leave again.

He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily as if releasing years of buried emotion. When he opened them again, the pain was still there but softened by new hope.

They walked back toward the village, hand in hand, under the glow of lanterns still suspended in the sky. Musicians were playing faster songs now and children ran in playful circles. Villagers greeted Rowan warmly, noticing Althea beside him but saying nothing.

The two spent the remainder of the evening sharing small stories, memories, and quiet laughter. Rowan helped her fix a loose knot on her lantern ribbon. Althea helped him tie a new charm on his Warden cloak.

As the night deepened, Rowan escorted her to the doorstep of her family home.

Tomorrow I must patrol the northern edge of the valley, Rowan said. There have been reports of wolves near the orchards. I will be gone until dusk. Will you meet me by the pier when I return

Yes, she said without hesitation.

His hand rose, brushing a strand of hair from her face. I have missed you for many years, Althea.

And I have missed you, Rowan.

He leaned slowly toward her, giving her space to refuse. She did not. Their lips met in a gentle kiss, warm and steady, filled with all the emotions that had gone unspoken. The moment lingered softly, then parted only when breath required it.

Good night, he whispered.

Good night.

She watched him leave, feeling something awaken in her heart with each step he took away from her. She touched her lips, overwhelmed by the certainty that she had found her way home not to the valley, but to him.

Over the following days, their bond grew deeper. They walked through golden orchards, shared warm bread by the hearth, and visited the cliffs overlooking the valley. Rowan spoke more openly about his brother and his regrets. Althea told him stories of the city and her artistic journey.

Yet not everything was peaceful.

One evening, Rowan returned from patrol injured. His arm was wrapped in cloth, blood seeping through. When Althea rushed to him he tried to calm her.

It is all right. A wolf startled me but I managed. It is only a cut.

You frightened me, she said shakily.

He cupped her face with his uninjured hand. I am here. I am alive. Do not let worry steal your peace.

She rested her forehead against his. Then promise me you will not carry every burden alone.

He smiled faintly. I will try.

But she knew he still struggled.

Rain arrived unexpectedly during the second week. River Vale transformed into a quiet, mist covered valley. Althea spent most evenings painting near the window, capturing the softness of the rain. Rowan visited whenever his duties allowed, bringing herbs, fruit, or small carved trinkets.

One rainy night he arrived soaked and exhausted. Althea wrapped a cloak around his shoulders and guided him to the hearth. He sat heavily, staring into the fire.

What happened, she asked softly.

The northern patrol found a broken bridge rail along the river. The same place where my brother fell. Rowan closed his eyes. Memories return too easily.

Althea knelt beside him. Rowan, you cannot keep reopening your wounds like this.

I know. But how does one forgive himself for failing someone he loves

You do it by choosing to live better each day. By choosing to honor them rather than suffer for them.

Her words sank into him slowly. Finally he reached for her hand. Stay a little longer. Please.

She stayed. They spent the night sitting by the fire, her leaning against his shoulder, his hand wrapped gently around hers. The night was quiet, but it was the most intimate moment they had shared.

When winter approached, Harvest Night lanterns still floating in distant memory, Rowan invited her on a walk along the hillside overlooking the entire valley. Snow dusted the grass, creating a silver path beneath their feet.

Althea, he said as they stood beneath a lone oak tree, I once believed love made me vulnerable. That it gave the world too much power over me. But these past weeks have taught me something new.

She waited, heart beating faster.

I do not want to face another season without you by my side. Not in silence, not in fear, not in longing.

Emotion tightened her throat.

Rowan stepped forward. I love you. Fully. Completely. Without hesitation. If you choose to stay in River Vale, I will devote every breath to building a life with you. If you someday choose to travel again, I will walk beside you if you allow it.

Tears welled in her eyes. She reached up and held his face.

Rowan, I returned because I realized the world is empty when shared with no one. I want to stay. Not because I fear leaving, but because my heart chooses you. Today. Tomorrow. Always.

His breath trembled. May I kiss you

She nodded.

He kissed her with a depth and tenderness that made the icy wind disappear. When they finally drew apart, both were breathless, cheeks flushed with warmth.

River Vale below them shimmered in soft winter light. Lanterns no longer floated on the river, but the valley glowed with new beginnings.

Rowan wrapped his cloak around her shoulders and they walked back toward the village, hands intertwined, steps steady. For the first time in years, he felt peace. And for the first time since her return, Althea felt truly home.

Together they entered the future with hearts no longer burdened by silence, but lifted by a love that grew like light rising over River Vale. Lanterns faded, seasons changed, but their bond remained constant.

And under the silent winter sky, Althea knew she had found the great love she had once painted only in dreams.