The Candleborn A child-sized figure sculpted entirely of melted candle wax, constantly dripping and reforming. Its head is a flame with no face, just a scream-shaped void in the fire. Inside its translucent body float moths, fingers, and shattered timepieces. It wears a crown of burnt-out wicks, and its arms end in stubby, charred stumps that spark when it moves. When it walks, the floor sizzles and time slows. It speaks in reversed whispers, and its touch causes hallucinations of your own death. The Candleborn appears during sleepless nights—drawn to those who stare at their reflection too long.