There was a valley where wandering souls came to rest before becoming morning.
Not heaven.
Not another world.
Simply...
the quiet place between goodbye and tomorrow.
The valley was endless.
Its paths were made of polished white stone, smooth as still water.
Every rainstorm left the ground reflecting the stars more clearly than the sky itself.
Blue mist wandered slowly between silent hills.
Not cold.
Only gentle enough to soften every distant light.
Tall lanterns lined the road.
Inside each floated tiny blue flames.
They were not fire.
They were memories that had finally stopped hurting.
Far beyond the valley...
great stone arches rose into the heavens.
Their tops disappeared into lavender clouds.
Sometimes they looked like gates.
Sometimes...
like people embracing.
No one ever reached them.
No one needed to.
For forty years...
a single man walked those roads.
He carried no weapon.
Only an old wooden lantern.
Inside...
burned no flame.
Only moonlight.
Whenever a wandering soul couldn't find its way...
his lantern quietly became brighter.
He never called them.
He simply waited.
Some spirits wished to say goodbye.
Some searched for forgotten names.
Some wanted to see one sunrise.
One last snowfall.
One last cup of tea.
One last apology.
He walked beside every one of them.
Never ahead.
Never behind.
When they finally smiled...
his lantern became a little lighter.
Little by little...
the valley grew quieter.
Eventually...
there were no souls left.
For the first time in forty years...
his lantern remained dark.
He still walked every night.
Out of habit.
Out of kindness.
Or perhaps...
because he no longer knew who he was without someone waiting.
Rain wandered gently across the valley.
The polished stones reflected countless stars.
He stopped beside an old bench beneath one glowing lantern.
No footsteps.
No voices.
No whispers asking for help.
Only silence.
He smiled gently.
"I suppose..."
"...everyone finally found their way."
It should have made him happy.
Instead...
it made him feel wonderfully unnecessary.
"You've become lonely."
The voice was soft.
Almost embarrassed to interrupt.
He turned.
A young woman stood nearby.
She wore a long grey cloak stitched with tiny silver moons.
Her umbrella was transparent.
Raindrops slid across it like little constellations.
In her hands...
she carried...
nothing.
No lantern.
No staff.
No bag.
Only empty hands.
"I didn't hear you."
he said.
She smiled.
"I wasn't lost."
They sat together beneath the lantern.
The rain quietly filled every silence between them.
After a while...
she asked,
"How many souls did you help?"
He thought.
"I stopped counting after a thousand."
"Did they thank you?"
"Most did."
"Were you happy?"
He smiled.
"I think so."
She nodded.
Then...
very gently...
asked,
"Did any of them ever ask..."
"...how you were?"
The valley became perfectly still.
The rain seemed to stop in midair.
His fingers tightened around the lantern.
He searched forty years of memories.
Thousands of conversations.
Thousands of goodbyes.
Thousands of grateful smiles.
Not one...
had ever asked.
Not because they were cruel.
Because they had needed him.
He had forgotten...
that someone who carries others...
can also become tired.
The young woman quietly reached toward his lantern.
She didn't light it.
She simply closed its little wooden door.
"You don't need this tonight."
He looked surprised.
"What if someone appears?"
She smiled.
"They'll wait until tomorrow."
He frowned.
"I've never made anyone wait."
"I know."
She looked toward the mist.
"That's why I'm asking you to."
They began walking.
Not toward the great arches.
Not toward the hills.
Simply...
wherever the path wished to go.
For the first time in decades...
he walked without looking for footprints that weren't there.
The silence felt different.
Not empty.
Resting.
Eventually...
they reached a little pond.
Instead of reflecting stars...
it reflected people.
The old woman who had finally forgiven herself.
The little boy who had waited for spring.
The sailor who had found his father's song.
The teacher.
The watchmaker.
The gardener.
The postwoman.
The wizard.
Every soul he had ever helped.
They weren't trapped.
Only remembered.
He smiled.
"I thought they were gone."
The young woman shook her head.
"No."
"They simply stopped needing directions."
He looked at her.
"I never asked..."
"...what your profession is."
She laughed softly.
"I've been wondering when you would."
She looked toward the pond.
Toward every peaceful face.
Toward the rain.
Then answered,
"When the people who guide everyone else..."
"...forget how to walk for themselves..."
"...I simply become their companion for a little while."
He lowered his eyes.
"I don't know how to be the one who needs help."
She nodded.
"I know."
Neither spoke again.
There was nothing left to explain.
Morning slowly colored the mist with silver.
The rain became lighter.
The blue flames inside the lanterns slowly faded into dawn.
The young woman stood.
"I should continue."
He smiled.
"So should I."
She looked at the old lantern in his hands.
"It feels lighter."
He looked inside.
The moonlight had disappeared.
In its place...
was a tiny sunrise.
He blinked.
"I didn't light it."
She smiled.
"No."
"You finally let someone walk beside you."
She disappeared into the morning mist.
The valley became quiet once more.
The ferryman stood alone.
Yet...
for the first time in many years...
alone no longer meant lonely.
He gently closed the lantern.
Adjusted his old coat.
And continued walking.
Not because someone needed saving.
Not because another soul was waiting.
Simply...
because the road was beautiful after the rain.
And sometimes...
that was already
a reason
to keep walking.