Floating frivolously in the air, they are granted purpose only by the light of the lantern. My lantern. Every night I walk across the field and every night they follow me. Sometimes only tens, but on other nights thousands come , forming a long caravan of soft illumination. These floating souls need a path to reach the afterlife.
No lanterns left now. I watch now, as the luminescence floats in the dark sky. My small radiant orb will rise, until its final light fades. As my final hope begins fading. It depends on this last lantern.