That night, Lorraine’s sleep was heavy, but not peaceful.
She found herself on a shoreline, the waves rolling in under a sky darkened by storm clouds. Beside her, Rhyan walked barefoot in the sand, the two of them moving together without speaking. Ahead, a grassy hill rose, wind tearing through it, bending the tall reeds and wildflowers. At the crest stood a white lighthouse, its beam slicing across the night sky.
They climbed, step by step, the air charged and humming around them. When they reached the lighthouse, they pushed open the heavy wooden door. Inside, instead of stairs that spiraled upward toward the light, there was only a downward passage — stone steps carved into the earth itself, slick with moss.
Without hesitation, Rhyan took Lorraine’s hand. Together they began to desce
