Overview

The Garlith Lanterns bloom in silence. They grow only where the water stands still and the dead sink deep, stagnant deltas, drowned villages, old warfields reclaimed by swamp. At first glance, they resemble swollen pods of glass, rooted into the mire and glowing faintly beneath the surface. But every Lantern is born of death.

They grow from the decaying mass of what was once alive: human, animal, or otherwise. The larger the life, the brighter and longer the Lantern burns. The greatest are said to rise from grave clusters, their light strong enough to be seen from miles away, rippling beneath the night mist like a drowned constellation.

Formation

The Lanterns are produced by a species of fungal-organic symbiont known locally as garlinth. The spores settle only on decomposing matter submerged in brackish water. Over weeks, they feed and intertwine, forming translucent bulbs that swell as gasses accumulate. When the bulb matures, chemical luminescence ignites within, a soft, steady glow that ranges from blue-green to white-gold depending on salinity and composition of the corpse below.

The Lantern eventually ruptures, releasing spores back into the water and leaving behind a pale, empty husk that drifts to the surface and bursts like glass in sunlight. The process repeats endlessly.

Locals say the swamps breathe through these lights. When the glow dims, the basin grows still, as if holding its breath.

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Cultural Significance

The people of the western floodlands treat the Lanterns with reverence. To disturb one is considered an unforgivable act. Families who lose loved ones to the waters often mark their return by the first new light to appear nearby, whispering thanks to the garlinth for carrying the soul onward.

Certain villages hold annual vigils known as Nights of Soft Fire, where boats drift through the flooded plains with mirrors attached to their prows, multiplying the light of the Lanterns across the water. The ritual is both mourning and celebration — a reminder that nothing on Hemera truly disappears, it only changes form.

In the Princedoms, merchants have tried to harvest the Lanterns for use as perpetual light sources. Every attempt ends badly. Once removed from the water, the pods collapse and release choking fumes. In the Green Zone, they are studied only under containment.

Legends and Myths

The Marsh of Thousand Suns:

An old Princedom tale speaks of a battlefield so thick with corpses that it glowed for a generation, the Lanterns rising higher than a man's shoulders, their reflections mistaken for stars.

The Keeper's Debt:

Floodlanders say that to take a Lantern's glow for yourself is to inherit the memories of the dead beneath it. Those who do are haunted until they return the light to the swamp.

The Great Bloom:

Once every few decades, when tides and storms align, entire flood basins ignite with new Lanterns in a single night. No one knows why.

Scientific Debate

Researchers disagree on how the garlinth fungus achieves sustained bioluminescence. Some argue it feeds on methane and trace heavy metals within decaying flesh. Others believe the glow is a chemical reaction meant to attract scavengers, thus spreading spores through digestion.

Whatever the mechanism, its brilliance defies replication. No lab on Hemera has successfully grown a Lantern outside its native swamp.

Status Among the Hundred Wonders

The Garlith Lanterns remain a paradox of beauty and rot: a world's soft refusal to let the dead go quietly. In the still waters of Branthorn and beyond, their light endures, proof that even decay has its radiance.

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