Rowan stumbled back from the window as the voice slithered through the lantern room like cold mist. Elara grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her instead of the black glass.
"Rowan. Stay with me. Don't listen to it."
But he wasn't fully present—his eyes kept shifting to the window behind her, pupils dilated, breath trembling like a trapped animal.
The voice came again, softer this time… almost gentle.
"Ro—wan… come down…The tide is waiting…"
His jaw clenched."Elara… it sounds like—""Don't say it.""—my mother."
A chill shot through her spine.
That's how the lighthouse entities worked:they didn't speak in language—they spoke in memories.
Using whatever would pull you closer.
Elara tightened her grip. "Your mother is gone. That thing out there is not her."
The window vibrated—just slightly—as if fingertips were dragging across the outer frame.
The room stayed pitch-black, lit only by the faint glow of Rowan's storm lantern. The lighthouse lamp still refused to relight, leaving them sealed in darkness with whatever lingered outside.
Then the knocking changed.
No longer a polite request—but testing.
Searching.
Scraping.
A long nail-like sound slid across the glass.
shhhk… shhhk… shhhk…
Rowan pressed a hand over his ear. "It's inside my head."
"Elara…"His voice cracked."You don't understand. I saw something down on the rocks—earlier today. Before the storm."
Elara froze.
"What did you see?"
He swallowed hard. "A figure. In a raincoat. Waving at me. But when I blinked… it slid into the water. Like it didn't have bones."
Her stomach dropped.
That wasn't just a random sighting.That meant the creature had been watching him.Studying him.Waiting.
"Elara…" Rowan whispered. "What does it want?"
The glass behind them groaned—a low, stretching sound—as if something pressed its full weight against it.
Elara grabbed the emergency crank wheel on the wall.
"We're going downstairs. Now."
"But the stairs—""Are safer than staying here with that."
She dragged him toward the spiral staircase, lantern swinging wildly. Behind them, the glass of the lantern room shuddered again.
Then—
A crack.
Tiny.But unmistakable.
Rowan froze mid-step."Elara… the window—"
"Don't look back."
But he did.
And there, through the crack, a single glossy black eye peered into the room—unblinking, wide, reflecting the lantern's dim glow like a drowned star.
The eye focused on Rowan.
And the voice whispered:
"You belong to the deep."
Elara yanked him down the stairs as the window splintered—and something enormous pressed through the opening.