So many, many lights.
The lights did irritate him, lining the walls in the dim car tunnel, even as he exited it. Always had.
There were too many times when, in his searches, he'd deluded himself that they were something more. Something less artificial, more...real.
In childhood he'd often wonder about lights. About what they were. If they were more than just a spell. If such lights could even truly exist without being conjured.
Of course, he'd learned since his youth that such things did not exist. Or at least, if they did, that they were not for him to find.
There were other things that he searched for at present anyway.
More pressing, less whimsical things.
Still, he knew. Even in youth—even
youth, that had been all he'd done to the lights. Chase, or farther, had they ever been within his means to reach. Drive away.
Be it the light from the heat of a burning conflagration, or the warm glow of a fae. A golden reflect, or the muted shine of ice...
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