
Your lantern is your life
Oil burns down as you walk. Let it go out and the dark closes in. Every refill is a choice: push on, or turn back for the lamp you passed.
The dark came up out of the water and took the forest, one unlit house at a time. You are Oriel, the lamplighter's apprentice. You have one lantern, a little oil, and a long way to walk home.
Move your light
Pines up to their knees in black water. The lamps along the old boardwalk still work, if you can reach them before your oil runs out.

Oil burns down as you walk. Let it go out and the dark closes in. Every refill is a choice: push on, or turn back for the lamp you passed.
Old wicker bridges only hold while they're lit. Swing the lantern wide to cross, and watch what fades behind you.
Each home you relight brings someone back: a ferryman, a bell-ringer, your old teacher. They remember what took the forest.
The dark isn't a monster to fight. It's weather. Read it, wait it out, outsmart it.
We've been making Wickerlight on weekends, then nights, then full time since 2023. Every tree in it is drawn by code our artist wrote by hand.



One email a month: what we built, what broke, and early builds for readers first.
First letter lands at the start of next month. Keep a light on.
Short description: A lamplighter's apprentice carries the last lantern home through a drowned forest where the dark takes anything left unlit.
Preview keys go out in waves from January. We'll write to .
Wishlisting tells the store we exist. For a team of four, it's the single most helpful thing you can do.