Coming from a world where no sun burns, it is unsurprising that the denizens of Moonshadow have little liking for light and flame. The wood here is damp, it burns poorly and with an abominable stench that seems to populate the shadows with flickering eyes.
The torches made for explorers come from the kingdom, good wholesome pine, wrapped in cloth and sealed with tar. These bright, if smoky, illuminations provide a bulwark against the darkness; both literal and figurative. Even the staunchest of adventurers dread a torch going out.
There have been parties who survived a trek in the darkness; though such groups are rare and often in a pitiful state. The wounds they carry tell harrowing tales, but these are but minor whispers compared to what one sees in their terror ridden eyes. Such souls are rarely fit to venture fourth again.