The Shore

5. The Message

Seonghwa needed to go straight for the lighthouse.

Seonghwa awoke on a beach of black sand. As he lifted his head groggily, some grains stubbornly stuck to his cheek and hair. The rushing of shallow waves nearby reached his ears. It brushed his eardrums and the back of his mind to clear his befuddled thoughts. Lost, he looked around.

Something. There was something he needed to search for. He couldn't remember what it was, but the memory was vivid in his mind.

Hectic, he looked around the shore. The beach of black sand was dotted with seashells and volcanic stones as far as his eyes reached and offered nothing of interest. Not even the raging waters that nearly doused him every time they came close to him bothered Seonghwa. He quickly got to his feet and brought some distance between himself and the agitated ocean. Thunder and lightning struck the skies at regular intervals. The storm was coming closer. He caught a bolt of lightning lighting up the blanket of clouds from within them. Eerie, their shadows flashed over the area for no more than a fraction of a second.

"What is it? What am I missing?"

Confused, Seonghwa patted down his body while he already set his eyes on the nearby tower. It would take him a few minutes to reach it, and its pull was undeniable. Sinister and dark, its white walls held secrets he didn't want to explore, but he had to. No way he could ignore how welcoming it waved at him.

Seonghwa found a shell in his pocket that he put to a pile of their kind on top of a rock that would likely get washed off by the waves soon. Then, he set one foot in front of the other to venture along the shore. He had to stick close to the cliffs to avoid getting brushed away by the furious water. Dark green and too dark to see through, it tossed itself at the boulders as if it wanted to swallow the entire island whole.

When Seonghwa spotted the scars on his arms, he halted for a tense second. A knife had made those. A knife wielded by his own right hand, judging by the angle. The freshest one was still reddened slightly and stood out from the rest since it pointed towards his hand instead of around his forearm. A sign he had to remember. The answer to his confusion.

With no time to stall, Seonghwa hurried along. He minded neither the ocean nor the foreign beach that looked eerily familiar to his eyes. His right hand pressed over the scar as if it had to protect the hint he had sustained. If it disappeared, too, then he would never know.

How did he know? He had no idea. Whatever had dawned realisation upon him must have been a benevolent entity that took pity on his despair.

Seonghwa ignored the bottle at the beach as he rounded a large boulder. Candles led the steep path towards the lighthouse. The door was partly open as if the owner didn't care if the storm came knocking. Or he anticipated stopping by to close it before things got rough.

Come by. You will find a way out. A way to leave this place.

Yes, he would. He knew that. For a while, he had distrusted the whispering voice in his ear but not anymore. It was a shred of hope, all that a man needed to keep moving before he lost his sanity and his will. Walking along the shore reminded Seonghwa of the walks he used to have with his grandmother.

Remember. Remember who you were. And who you desire to be.

Seonghwa did. And as he walked, he blew out the candles he passed. Every single dancing flame gave in to his might with a last dying flicker. His muscle memory knew this path all too well and reminded him of having walked it before. Quite unsettled, he kept his course still.

Near the sacrificial site, Seonghwa had a lot of work to do blowing out the candles. He diminished their number bit by bit until all of them stood dead. Their luring character went out with their fire. Nothing more but a bit of heat and a faint trail of smoke that lost itself in the air remained.