The storm had softened.

Not by much. The wind still howled around the lighthouse, rain still lashed against the windows. It had lost the wild, frenzied energy of the night before, though. Liora could feel the difference in her bones, the way the waves no longer sounded like they wanted to devour the cliffs, but rather embrace them in a slow, rolling rhythm.

Still, the work remained the same.

She pulled on her coat, fastening the buttons with practiced ease, already running through the morning tasks in her mind. Check the lantern, trim the wick, reinforce the shutters in case the wind decided to turn cruel again.

And now, for the first time ever...she had company.

Elias stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her with a bemused expression. His borrowed sweater stretched across his broad frame, making him look oddly... domestic, though the bruises on his face and the sharp glint in his eyes betrayed that illusion. She still couldn't get over the fact she had a pirate captain in her home.

"I don't suppose there's a reason you're staring," she said, tugging on her boots.

"You're fascinating." There was no hesitation in his voice.

Liora nearly missed a lace. "I—what?"

His head tilted, eyes slowly raking over her, and it sent a shiver down her spine. "Alone out here like this, there's no hesitation in you. It's a rare thing."

Heavens above. She cleared her throat and focused intently on her bootlaces. "It's just routine. You live alone long enough, you get used to doing things efficiently."

Elias hummed, noncommittal. He shifted, stretching his arms above his head before dropping them lazily to his sides. "So, what's the plan? How do we keep this lighthouse of yours from crumbling into the sea?"

That pulled a laugh from her. Liora glanced up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. "We don't."

He lifted a brow. "We don't?"

"We let it stand in the sea. The storm can rage all it likes, but this lighthouse has been here for longer than either of us. It knows how to endure." She dusted off her coat and straightened. "And so do I."

There was something in his eyes that made her stomach flip. A hunger, almost, barely hidden behind his charm. The way he stared so openly, so honestly...

She turned away. "If you're hoping I'll let you help, you'll be disappointed."

"You wound me, lass." He placed a hand over his heart. "Here I was, ready to be the best assistant a lighthouse keeper has ever had."

Liora rolled her eyes, grabbing her toolkit from the shelf. "You shipwrecked yesterday."

"And I lived."

"Barely."

"All the more reason to prove my usefulness."

Did he never relent? He was a stubborn as the storm. She didn't have time for this argument. With a dramatic shake of her head, she strode past him and opened the door. "You can follow if you like. But no touching anything."

Elias grinned like he'd won some great battle. "Aye, Captain."

Liora bit back a smile and stepped outside.

The wind hit her immediately, cool and briny, threading through the loose strands of her braid as she climbed the narrow spiral staircase. Elias followed behind, his boots clunking against the stone steps, pausing every so often to examine something—the structure of the walls, the iron reinforcements, even the graffiti carved into the stone from keepers long past. How long had it been since she herself had paused to admire?

"You're looking at things like you expect this place to collapse at any moment," she called over her shoulder, amused by his curiosity.

"Just admiring the craftsmanship." His voice was light, but when she glanced back at him, his gaze was sharp, calculating.

Were those pirate instincts? Always assessing. Always learning a place, even when there was no battle to be fought. What a life that must be.

When they reached the top, the great beacon of the lighthouse roared before them, its massive flame encased in thick glass and iron. The heat rolled off it in waves, shimmering the air and casting long, flickering shadows against the walls. The scent of burning oil and scorched metal clung to everything, thick and heady, a constant reminder of the fire's power.

Liora moved with practiced ease, adjusting the iron grates and checking the mechanisms that fed the inferno. The flames licked hungrily at the air, their golden light dancing across her face as she ensured the oil reservoirs were full and the ventilation was clear.

Elias remained quiet—for once—wandering the edge of the chamber, his fingers trailing lightly over the curved glass. He stared into the inferno, watching as it churned and pulsed, a controlled beast held within steel and stone.

And then he moved away while she worked. Not that she minded. His gaze felt as hot as the fire.

Once certain that the flame would not die out any time soon, she stepped back to merely admire.

"I can see everything from up here." Elias's voice echoed from behind her.

Liora glanced at him. He stood with one hand braced against the window, gazing out at the endless expanse of the sea. From this height, the ocean stretched into infinity, meeting the storm-laden sky in a jagged, restless horizon.

"Does it make you miss it?" she asked.

Elias inhaled deeply, like he could taste the salt in the air. "Aye," he admitted. "But I think I'd miss it more if I weren't still soaking in it." He smirked and turned to her. "Do you ever miss anything?"

Liora frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You live alone, on a stretch of coast no one visits, in a place where the storm never stops. Do you ever...miss what's beyond it?"

The question was simple. But something about it unsettled her. The world beyond. How many nights had she spent daydreaming about going out there beyond the storm? How many stories had she read about romances, and wished she could have an ounce of that kind of love? How easily her mind could run with the possibilities now that a man was here. What kind of these could she say?

Instead, what came out was: "I have everything I need here."

And Elias didn't argue.

By the time they climbed back down, Liora's hands were smudged with oil, and Elias had earned himself several stern warnings about not touching anything. He took it all in stride, grinning like a man who knew exactly how to push his luck.

But just as Liora set her toolkit aside, she heard it—the creak of the bookcase shifting.

She turned just in time to see Elias crouched by the shelves, his fingers resting on the edge of a hidden compartment. The wood had shifted just enough to reveal a thin sliver of darkness.

Liora froze. How many things would he unearth during his stay? As exciting as it was, it was also worrisome.

Elias, of course, looked delighted. "Well, well," he mused. "What do we have here?"

What was he doing? It felt like everything she knew and could be assured in was crumbling away. Liora marched over, swatting his hand away. "I told you—no touching!"

He held up both hands in surrender. "Technically, I was just leaning against it."

Her pulse thrummed as she hesitated, then reached forward, carefully pulling the panel free. A small, leather-bound book was nestled inside the hollow space, its edges worn with age. Dust coated the cover, the scent of ink and old parchment rising as she opened it.

The pages were filled with writing. Some in careful script, others in hastily scribbled notes. Liora skimmed a few lines before realization hit.

"This is—" She swallowed. "This belonged to the last keeper."

"Like the letter?" Elias leaned in, scanning the pages over her shoulder. "Think he left anything interesting behind? More love notes?"

She traced a passage, reading the words left behind by a man who had vanished.

The sea calls for me again. But if she calls, will I answer?

The storm howled against the lighthouse walls, but Liora hardly heard it.

Elias exhaled beside her, low and thoughtful. "Seems like we've got another mystery, lass."

Liora clutched the book tighter.

She wasn't sure she wanted to.

WC: 1343