Chapter 3: The Lighthouse Secret

Julian did not lock his door. Instead, he slipped out into the fog, his revolver heavy in his coat pocket. The fog was so thick he could barely see his own boots. The red light from the lighthouse swept across the town, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to move independently of the structures.

He made his way down to the rocky causeway leading to the lighthouse. The waves crashed violently against the stones, spraying cold water onto his coat. He reached the heavy iron door of the lighthouse tower. It was slightly ajar, scraping against the stone floor with a high-pitched whine.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The air was warm, smelling of ozone and burning copper. He looked up the spiral staircase. The red light pulsed from above, synchronized with a low, mechanical hum that vibrated in his chest. "Claire?" he called out, his voice echoing off the damp stone walls. The only reply was the rhythmic, mechanical pulse of the red light.