Lighthouse

Lighthouse


ARRIVAL AT THE LIGHTHOUSE


The sea stretched out before her, a carpet of silver waves reflecting the last light of the sunset. Emilia stood at the edge of the east, the mist of the horizon trembling as if in a dream, while the voice of the wind brought distant, almost imperceptible whispers from the depths of time. Her heart beat fast, mingled with fear and curiosity; every step she took on the loose gravel of the path echoed like a harbinger of a mission that exceeded her limits.


──This is where I will spend the next few weeks, she thought, as she looked at the rocky tower that rose before her. The Lighthouse of the Waterless Coast. Its name reminded her of abandonment, silence, and hidden secrets; everything she had come to seek.


The lighthouse was built on a clifftop, carved by the sea into a semicircular sandy coastline. The broken panels on the cylindrical body of the building and the rusty metal stairs bore witness to years of neglect. The portcullises , hung on the granite walls, had been left to the ravages of time; but even through the cracks, he could make out the iridescent light of an old flashlight, like a whisper of older lighthouses that still shine in the dreams of sailors.


Emilia pulled the hood of her velvet cloak tighter around her shoulders. The wind, laden with the smell of brine and moisture, made her shiver as she climbed the path. Every step was directed towards the past; she felt as if she were traversing an avenue of time, where the whispers of her ancestors echoed briefly in her ears. Thoughts of her family, of her father who had gone on the sea paths and of her mother who had taught her to read the signs of the sky, captivated her soul.


Suddenly, a loud thud took her breath away. She looked behind her: a piece of wood from an old railing had come loose and fallen onto the rock. The sound, like a warning, made her heart freeze for a moment. Then, the wind fell silent, leaving only the sounds of the sea and the snoring of the approaching storm.


She entered the light of the lighthouse. The heavy wooden door, gilded by the salt water, opened with a deep thud. Dust settled on her feet, signs of years of silence; but traces of paintings could still be seen on the walls: waves, ships, and the hopes of shipwrecked people seeking shelter. In her eyes, a memory she had not experienced was being painted; like an image from a dream.


She took a deep breath and walked down the circular corridor. Ornate balustraded stairs rose to the top, stained by sea erosion. Light shone from above, but the lamp was out, abandoned to the darkness. The walls were thickly scrawled with half-faded letters, perhaps the last traces of sailors who had taken refuge here in years gone by. There were trenches in the shape of crosses and circles; symbols that Emilia recognized as something familiar from her dreams.


──This is her first point of reference, she whispered to herself. And yet, something inside her whispered that these marks were not accidental; they were like pieces of a puzzle that had begun to unfold before her.


With the flashlight in her hand, she began to examine the inscriptions carefully. Each character had been carved with such care, as if it had been created to withstand time. She felt a shiver run down her spine; the memories of her ancestors, those who had guarded the light of the world, seemed to awaken in the air. Next to a symbol depicting a circle surrounded by four lines, an engraved phrase in Latin reminded her of a dream:


“Light in darkness” shines , and darkness They did not comprehend it .”


──The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not understand it, she translated softly. The phrase beat like a pulse within her, as she felt that there, hidden in a corner, lay the heart of the old mystery.


Suddenly, a thunderous sound pierced the building; as if lightning had struck the domed antenna of the lighthouse. The glass in the high dome vibrated, breaking the last shreds of silence. The storm was approaching; the first clouds gathered like dark guardians of the sky.


Emilia felt her blood run cold; the outer door slammed shut behind her with a chilling thud. In the darkness of the corridor, only the dim light of the flashlight and the shadows dancing on the walls remained. And it was then that she heard the whisper; a thin voice, almost inaudible, that seemed to come from the depths of the wall:


──“I was waiting for you, daughter of light…”


Emilia rested her hand on the wall, blocking out the cold metal of the carved stone. The voice sounded again, clearer this time, but also more distant:


──“This is where your destiny begins.”


It was as if she felt a hand caress her shoulder, but there was no one in front of her. Her blood froze; but despite the fear, a wave of determination flooded her. She took a deep breath and shouted:


──“Who are you?”


But the only answer was a reverberating hum, like an old clock striking its doomsday hour. The lighthouse walls seemed to breathe, to open small cracks in their surfaces, revealing an unknown world within.


Emilia walked towards the central staircase that led up to the dome. The gust of wind outside was beating hard against the metal doors, like a survival frenzy. With each step she climbed, she felt the old foundations creak, as if disturbed by her presence. And yet, inside her burned an invincible flame.


Until, reaching a height, she saw before her an iron door that led to the lens chamber. It was half open, as if inviting her to enter. The light from the broken lamps fell in watercolors on the broken pieces of the lens. Strange symbols, carved from the inside out, circled the rotating mechanism; as if they guarded secret arrangements that no one understood anymore.


Emilia stood in the middle of the chamber and reached out to touch the heavy stainless steel handle. Then, she felt a current of electricity run through her fingers; a hiss that became a scream in her ears and left a pale fire dancing in her blood. With a sharp movement, she pulled the handle, and the mechanism sounded as if it were awakening from a centuries-long sleep.