The Chronicles of the Lighthouse Keepers

Chapter One, Revenge

"We are told to let our light shine, and if it does, we won't need to tell anyone it does. Lighthouses don't fire cannons to call attention to their shining- they just shine!"

Dwight L. Moody
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What is a lighthouse even for these days?

There are so many different ways to navigate with technology that they seem obsolete, useless, and honestly a pain in my ass. And I fucking hate this stupid lighthouse most of all. It's been my family's problem for centuries; now it's the reason I'm stuck in hell with distant relatives I've never even met let alone heard of.

My name is Skylar Alexander Branwenn but most of my friends and family... pausing, looking down shuffling... Well, what is left of my family just call me Sky. My family has lived on this land for as long as anyone could remember.

I remember my grandfather sharing stories about our family's history with me when he was alive. These tales dated back long before any records were kept. My mom used to get upset with him, questioning how he could possibly know such things since he wasn't even there. She would sometimes tell him to stop filling my head with stories. At the time, I couldn't understand why she was so bothered by them; to me, they were simply entertaining stories from an elderly man. As a child, I loved hearing these stories about our family's past, even though I knew some of them were probably not entirely true. Tales of magic, warriors, and fantastical adventures captured my imagination, allowing me to dream of such extraordinary things.

He repeatedly shared a story with me that became my absolute favorite, but unfortunately, I never heard its conclusion before he passed away. The tale centered around a boy born into a remarkable family bestowed with incredible powers by the Gods. As far as I recall, the narrative depicted a myth that predated time itself, originating from a secluded tribe in a distant realm. I often chuckled at the idea of multiple realms existing. The story revolved around a young boy destined to be born before a monumental war that would determine the delicate balance between good and evil.

I chuckled and informed him that nowadays, the only ones engaged in a battle between good and evil are law enforcement officers and criminals.

Then he would tell me that evil hates Adamins souls. Looking at me crazy as old people do telling me about an evil brewing under the surface that would cost many innocent lives. "Auradas and Adamins lives, if nothing was done!" He'd yell. I used to ask him how he came up with this story or some of those words, he'd just told me to hush and listen. He continued, "The Veda of the tribe told a prophecy that first warned the family that a boy born would, even as a baby, be in danger." Continuing on that he would be born with unique markings so that all would recognize him. He would point out that the child would have markings just like me, but I never thought my freckles counted as unique.

I never argued with him though, that was more of a losing battle then with my mom.

The child would grow up to be a leader restoring the balance to the order of the realms, keeping all of their wanders safe. Fighting with books, smarts, and a huge heart grandpa made sure to emphasize these things every time he told me this story.

I don't really know why but that story always stuck with me. He's been gone for almost 5 years now. I know he told me it over and over, but I could never remember him telling me how it ended. I asked the few relatives that showed up, my mom, and a couple of the large number of friends my grandfather apparently had. Looking back now, none of them looked like anyone I ever met before, and my grandfather had lived with us at least my whole life. That's not important though, the point was no one knew the end of the legend. I never will learn of how he saved the realms or who these wanderers were. My mom asked if she should make something up once, I just shook my head no because I knew it would never be the same not coming from him.