The salt air bit Mara’s cheeks as she trudged up the cliff, her boots crunching over gravel. The lighthouse loomed ahead, its white paint peeling like dead skin. She’d skipped school again, but the note had been urgent—scrawled in her father’s shaky hand: *They’re coming for the light.*
Jax waited at the base, his jacket zipped to his chin. “You’re late,” he said, voice tight. His eyes darted to the horizon, where the sky bled into the sea. “This isn’t a game, Mara.”
“It’s not a game,” she echoed, but her fingers curled around the rusted key in her pocket. Her father’s key. The one he’d left behind when he vanished two years ago.
The lighthouse door groaned as she turned the key. A gust of stale air hit them, carrying the scent of mildew and old wood. Jax flipped on his flashlight, its beam slicing through the dark. Staircase? No—a tunnel, narrow and low, cutting into the cliff. “This isn’t the entrance,” he said.
“It’s the other one,” Mara said. She’d found the map in her father’s desk, a sketch of the lighthouse’s hidden lower levels. The notes had been scrawled in the margins: *The light isn’t just a beacon. It’s a trap.*
They descended, the walls closing in. The air grew colder, dampness seeping into their clothes. Jax’s flashlight flickered. “We should turn back,” he muttered.
“No.” Mara’s voice was sharp. She’d waited too long. Her father’s last words had been a whisper: *Find the core.*
The tunnel opened into a cavern, and there it was—a massive machine, gears rusted but still humming. A light pulsed at its center, casting jagged shadows on the walls. Jax stumbled back. “What the hell is this?”
“A generator,” Mara said, stepping closer. The hum resonated in her bones. “It’s powering the lighthouse. But why? Why hide it?”
A sound behind them. Footsteps. Jax grabbed her arm. “We’re not alone.”
The figure emerged from the shadows—a man, his face obscured by a scarf, but his eyes sharp. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice low. “This place isn’t safe.”
“Who are you?” Jax demanded.
The man didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled a switch on the wall. The machine’s hum intensified, the light flaring brighter. Mara shielded her eyes as the cavern shook. “Get out,” the man barked. “Now.”
Jax yanked her toward the tunnel. “Run!”
They stumbled up the stairs, the lighthouse door slamming behind them. The man’s voice followed: “You don’t understand! The light isn’t just a beacon—it’s a seal!”
Mara stopped, chest heaving. “What does that mean?”
The man stepped into the light. “It keeps the darkness contained. And you’ve just broken the seal.”
The sea roared. The lighthouse shuddered. Mara turned, but the man was gone, leaving only a single page on the ground—her father’s handwriting: *The core is alive. It remembers.*
Jax grabbed her wrist. “We need to go. Now.”
But Mara didn’t move. The light from the lighthouse pulsed again, slower this time, like a heartbeat. She thought of her father’s empty chair, the way his voice had cracked when he said *I’ll be back soon*.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “Not yet.”
The sea surged, waves crashing against the cliff. Jax cursed. “You’re insane!”
“Maybe,” she said. “But I need to know what he found.”
The lighthouse door creaked open again. The man’s voice echoed from inside: “You don’t have a choice.”
Mara stepped forward, the key still in her hand. The light pulsed, brighter now, and the darkness beyond the cliff seemed to shift, like something was waiting.
Jax’s grip tightened. “Mara…”
She met his eyes. “I’ll be back.”
And she disappeared into the lighthouse, the door closing behind her with a final, hollow thud.
