Martha Radford was a woman possessed by an uncommon passion - the delicate art of candlemaking. Whether fashioning ornate, beeswax tapers or humble, tallow-dipped lights, her deft hands could coax wicks into flickering life. Each candle was a tiny beacon, illuminating the darkness with its warm, dancing glow.

On a crisp autumn morning, Martha carefully arranged her freshly-made candles on the windowsill of her small cabin. The golden light filtering through the colored glass cast a kaleidoscope of patterns on the wooden floor. She hummed a soft tune as she worked, lost in the rhythm of her craft.

As Martha reached for a particularly intricate beeswax taper, there was a sharp knock at the door. Startled, she nearly dropped the candle before regaining her composure. With a puzzled frown, she set it down and made her way to the door, wondering who could be calling at this early hour.