As the years passed, and new generations of Itessins took over the castle, the obsession with lighting the castle grew until it seemed to consume them. They began to ignore their estates and investements. And as the family’s income dwindled, so did the number of servants. After Lord Brannis’ father died, almost everyone left the castle.

Lord Brannis’ frantic voice came echoing down the stairs, “Avram! I’m going to the 3rd floor! Hurry!”

“My Lord’s has gotten himself into quite a state this evening,” Avram said quietly as he began lighting the candles on the grand staircase. “I wish he could be free of this madness. I am just too old….oohh!!” Avram’s words were cut off as he tripped over the last step to the landing.

As he sprawled face down across the cold marble, his long brass lamplighter slid across the landing into the corner. It took a moment for Avram to catch his breath, and scramble to pick his lamplighter back up, only to find the wick had been snuffed out.