Waxworth was a candle that had been given the Spark, not because the witch Babathiel had any particular need for it, but merely as an experiment. Waxworth had proven himself, for it did prefer to be called “he,” far beyond expectation, with supple and flexible limbs of beeswax and a flame that burned ever-bright. With regular infusions of wax, who knew how long he might persist?

The villagers learned of Waxworth when they saw him repeatedly leaping over a narrow arm of the lake after sunset, the bright flame of his life dancing in the darkness. He did it as a thrill, for the lake could easily put out his light forever, and it earned him the title of “The Candle that Leapt Over the Lake at Dusk.” Even now, he would repeat the feat, adding a pirouette or other stylish motion as he saw appropriate, often to an audience of townsfolk and travelers.

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