“You have done what none could, Sandra,” Lady Maren said, bowing before the lighthouse. “We have guarded this secret for generations, but the time has come to share the burden.”
The lighthouse, with its broken lantern and rusted iron stairs, called to her like a siren song. It was a puzzle begging to be solved, a story waiting to be written. The first night inside the tower, Sandra heard something more than the howling wind. The stone walls seemed to breathe, and a faint hum resonated through the floorboards. She opened her journal, noting: “The lighthouse is alive. Its heart beats with the rhythm of the sea.” sandra orlow
Sandra, perched high in the tower, watched the waves slam against the cliffs. The lighthouse’s lantern sputtered under the wind’s assault. Remembering the ancient hum she’d heard, she whispered back, “We’re not alone.” “You have done what none could, Sandra,” Lady