The moment Arin stepped onto the staircase, the air shifted—a low groan rolled through the tower, like stone grinding against bone.
The lighthouse felt him.
It knew he was climbing.
He kept one hand on the damp railing, the brass key burning in his pocket. With every step, the darkness thickened behind him, closing off the way down. He didn't dare look back.
The voices whispered again—soft, slithering, circling his ears.
"Faster…Faster…Before it wakes fully…"
Arin swallowed and climbed faster.
Halfway to the next landing, he noticed something strange.
The temperature dropped.Not gradually—instantly.
His breath turned to mist.
The walls around him—the old stone—were covered in frost.
Then… the sound started.
A pulse.Faint at first.
Thump…...thump…......thump.
Arin froze.
It wasn't coming from outside.It wasn't coming from below.
It was coming above.
A heartbeat.
The lighthouse had a heartbeat.
He forced his feet to move, step by trembling step, until he reached the first upper landing—a circular room with broken furniture and a massive window overlooking the sea.
He swept his flashlight across the room.
The beam hit something metallic.
A lantern.Old, brass, and cracked—yet glowing weakly with a strange, bluish-white light.
It flickered like a candle inside a snowstorm.
Arin approached it.
The light inside didn't behave like flame.It wasn't fire.It was… moving.Like a trapped piece of fog swirling inside the glass.
He lifted the lantern carefully.
The room dimmed instantly, as if the lighthouse resented the touch.
On the floor beneath the lantern's table, he saw scratches—dozens of them—long, desperate lines carved into the wood.
Words.
More warnings.
"THE SECOND LIGHT IS NOT A LIGHT.""NEVER UNLOCK THE LANTERN.""IT WANTS OUT."
Arin's pulse quickened.He looked at the lantern again.
The brass latch on its front door—the one keeping the strange fog-light sealed—matched the brass key in his pocket.
Exactly.
He felt sick.
The key wasn't for the exit.It was for the lantern.
Behind him, the heartbeat grew louder.
Thump…...thump…......THUMP.
The floor vibrated with each pulse.
Arin staggered back, clutching the lantern.
Then he heard something new—
A melody.
A humming.Soft.Childlike.
It drifted down from the lantern room above him… the top of the tower.
The place where the real lighthouse light should be.
The humming grew louder, echoing down the spiral shaft like someone sitting in the lantern room, swaying gently, waiting.
And then the voice whispered—clear, close, right beside his ear:
"Bring the light to me…I've waited so long."
Arin dropped the lantern in shock, but it didn't break—it hovered for a moment, suspended by the air itself, then lowered gently to the floor as if a ghost hand held it.
The heartbeat stopped.
The entire lighthouse went silent.
Then a single, distant click echoed from above—the sound of a switch flipping.
A light burst from the lantern room.
Not white.Not yellow.
Black.
A black beam cut through the fog outside, piercing the sea.
The Black Beacon.The one the keeper warned about.
Arin felt every muscle in his body lock.
Because from outside—far below—something answered the light.
A deep, guttural roar rose from the water.Not human.Not animal.
Ancient.
Hungry.
Awake.