In the quiet village of Luhleni, where the mountains guarded the dawn like ancient sentinels, lived an old lantern maker named Baba Simo. His lanterns were famous across the valley—not because they burned brighter, but because each one held a warm, flickering glow that seemed alive. No one knew how he crafted them. Children whispered that he trapped fireflies inside; elders insisted he used desert magic. But Baba Simo only smiled and kept working, humming softly as beads of light drifted around his tiny workshop. One night, as the moon rose—round and golden—an orphan girl named Amahle crept to his door. She longed for a lantern of her own, something to chase away the loneliness that curled through her heart like winter smoke. Inside, she found Baba Simo kneeling before an open lantern, whispering a story into it. With each word he spoke, a spark of soft light blossomed and settled inside the glass.Startled, Amahle gasped. Baba Simo turned, but instead of scolding her, he smiled.“Do you see now?” he asked gently. “Lanterns don’t burn with fire. They burn with hope.” He sat her beside him and placed a new lantern in her hands.“Close your eyes,” he said. “Tell it the brightest thing inside you.” Amahle hesitated. She had no bright memories—only longing. But she whispered anyway. She told the lantern about the family she wished for, the warmth she had never felt, and the love she hoped one day would find her. When she opened her eyes, the lantern glowed brighter than any Baba Simo had ever made.“That,” he whispered, “is the power of a heart that still believes.”And from that night on, Amahle’s lantern never dimmed—guiding her, comforting her, and reminding the whole village that even the smallest spark of hope could light the world.