The Lighthouse of Brightshore

The Boy

 Inside, shadows danced along the walls, and the faint scent of salt and old wood filled the air. The spiral staircase wound up and up, disappearing into the gloom. Her heart thudded in her chest, but she was thrilled to be there.

As she climbed the stairs, the sound of waves grew louder, echoing strangely in the lighthouse's hollow center. 

She felt an odd warmth coming from above, as though a fire burned somewhere up ahead. When she finally reached the top, she stepped into the lantern room, where the old light should have been dead and cold—but instead, it glowed with a soft, silvery light.

And there, standing by the light, was a figure. It was a young man, not much older than Tessa, dressed in old-fashioned clothes. His face was pale, and his eyes were like shadows under the ghostly light.

"Who are you?" Tessa asked, her voice trembling but full of curiosity.

The boy turned to her and gave a small, sad smile. "I'm Elias," he said quietly. "And I've been waiting here a long time."

He explained, in a voice that was both calm and eerie, that he had been a lighthouse keeper's apprentice a hundred years ago.

 One night, during a terrible storm, he had lit the beacon to guide a ship to shore—but he had never left the lighthouse. No one knew what had happened to him, only that he'd vanished, and the storm had taken him. And so he stayed, bound to the light he had tended, his spirit tied to the flickering beacon.

"Every night, I relight the flame," he whispered. "Waiting for someone who might help me find peace."