The Lantern of Duskshore
December 11, 2025
Storm clouds crouched low over the sea as Elin Rowan steered her skiff toward the jagged cliffs of Duskshore Isle. Waves slammed against the rocks like fists. The lighthouse at the island’s peak—once the brightest beacon on the eastern coast—flickered weakly, as if fighting to stay alive.
“Tell me again why we couldn’t visit during daylight?” Bram called over the wind. His beard was soaked, and his expression suggested deep regret.
Elin tightened her grip on the oars. “Because the lighthouse only reacts to moonrise. The Lantern’s flame won’t answer to the sun.”
“That sounds like magical nonsense.”
“It is magical nonsense. And we’re here to fix it.”
The boat scraped against stone. Elin tied the rope and hauled herself up the slippery steps carved into the cliffside.
Bram climbed after her, muttering, “I should’ve been a baker. Nobody sends bakers to haunted islands.”
The Lighthouse Keeper
The lighthouse towered above them, its bricks cracked from decades of storms. The beacon room at the top glowed faint orange—far too dim for a structure meant to guide entire fleets.
An elderly man in a soaked coat stood at the door.
“Keeper Alder!” Elin called. “We came as soon as we received your message.”
Alder pressed a trembling finger to his lips. “Quiet,” he whispered. “It feels every sound.”
Bram squinted. “What feels every sound?”
Alder opened the lighthouse door. “The thing that stole the Lantern Flame.”
That shut Bram up.
They stepped inside. The air smelled of salt and ashes. Tools lay scattered. The spiraling staircase upward shook with distant, rhythmic thuds.
Elin steadied Alder. “Tell me everything.”
“It came three nights ago,” Alder said. “A shape made of fog and shadow, slipping through the cracks. It snuffed out the Lantern Flame and carried its spark into the basement tunnels. Without the Flame, the lighthouse dims. And without the lighthouse…”
“Ships crash,” Elin finished.
Alder nodded gravely. “Tonight alone, three nearly struck the shoals.”
Bram rubbed his face. “Great. Monster hunting in a collapsing lighthouse. This is what I get for being your friend.”
“You love being my friend.”
“I tolerate being your friend.”
The Descent
A faint stuttering glow came from the trapdoor leading underground.
Elin knelt. “The tunnels were sealed when I left the island. How did it get in?”
“The same way it got out,” Alder murmured. “Walls don’t stop shadow.”
Bram groaned. “Oh wonderful. The monster ignores architecture.”
Elin gripped the iron ring and pulled the trapdoor open. Warm, flickering light rose like breath.
“Lantern Flame residue,” she muttered. “It passed through here recently.”
Alder shook his head. “I cannot go down there. I’m old, and it doesn’t like me.”
“That is deeply concerning,” Bram whispered.
Alder placed a trembling hand on Elin’s shoulder. “But you… you have the Spark-Touched gift. If anyone can restore the flame, it’s you.”
Elin nodded. “We’ll bring it back.”
Bram sighed deeply, muttering, “We’d better.”
They descended.
The Tunnels of Duskshore
The tunnels beneath the lighthouse were older than the structure itself—carved long before human settlers arrived. Moss-covered stone walls glowed faintly, illuminated by drifting sparks of golden light.
Elin touched one. “These are pieces of the Lantern Flame.”
Bram squinted. “We’re following breadcrumbs?”
“Flamecrumbs.”
“Please never say that again.”
A low growl echoed ahead.
Both froze.
The tunnel walls trembled as something slithered across stone—slow, scraping, and far too large.
Bram whispered, “Elin… what exactly are we up against?”
She swallowed. “If the old stories are true… a Gloomwraith.”
“Wraith!?” Bram hissed. “You failed to mention wraith!”
“I wasn’t sure!”
“Mention next time anyway!”
The Broken Chamber
They arrived at a circular stone chamber. In the center stood the Lantern’s heart—an ancient pedestal carved with spiral patterns. The socket at the top, where the eternal flame once floated, was dark.
But just beyond the pedestal, crouched in the shadows, was the creature.
It was taller than the ceiling, but hunched. A swirling mass of smoke and night, its core flickered with stolen amber light. Every movement left trails of shadow like dripping ink.
Its voice crackled like burnt paper.
“I know you, Spark-Touched.”
Elin stepped back. “Why take the Flame? It keeps sailors alive.”
“It is warm,” the wraith hissed. “Warmth is life. Life is mine.”
Bram whispered, “This is a terrible bedtime story.”
The wraith lunged.
Elin grabbed Bram, diving aside as a tendril of shadow sliced through the air. Stone cracked where it struck.
“Elin!” Bram shouted. “Please tell me you have a plan!”
“Working on it!”
Fire Against Shadow
The wraith slammed its body into the wall, sending chunks of stone flying. Elin dodged another tendril and spotted the faint glow flickering at its core.
“The Flame is trapped inside it!” she shouted.
“That’s not helpful!”
“No—if I can touch the core, I can free it!”
“That’s even less helpful!!”
The wraith lunged again. Elin rolled beneath it, sliding across the stone. She reached for the wraith’s core—
A tendril whipped around her ankle.
“Elin!” Bram charged forward, swinging his lantern like a club. “Let go of her, you smoke-sack!”
The lantern burst, spraying burning oil across the wraith’s body. The creature shrieked, recoiling. The shadows thinned.
“Elin, NOW!” Bram yelled.
She leapt, plunging her hand into the wraith’s flickering core.
Light exploded.
She felt heat—not burning, but alive—rushing up her arm. Memories of every lighthouse keeper before her surged in her mind. The weight of a hundred years of light.
The wraith screeched as its stolen glow ripped away from it.
Then it collapsed, dissolving into fog.
Elin collapsed too, gasping.
Bram caught her. “Hey—hey! Are you okay?”
She opened her hand.
Floating above her palm was the Lantern Flame—small, but warm and bright.
“I got it,” she whispered.
The Return to Light
Back up the lighthouse stairs they ran, with Alder waiting anxiously.
“Did you—?”
Elin raised her hand. The Flame burned brighter.
They climbed to the beacon room. Elin placed the Flame in the lantern’s cradle. The moment she let go, the flame surged upward—expanding into a blazing pillar of gold.
The lighthouse burst to life, its light slicing through the storm like a sword.
Alder wept with relief. “You’ve saved every soul at sea tonight.”
Bram leaned against the wall. “We also nearly died. I just want everyone to appreciate that.”
Elin smiled softly. “Bram saved me. Again.”
He raised a finger. “Please write that down somewhere permanent.”
Outside, the storm began to calm.
Alder rested a hand over his heart. “The island owes you both.”
Elin looked up at the blazing beacon. “As long as the Flame remains, Duskshore will guide every lost traveler home.”
Bram nodded. “And maybe next time, we choose a quest that doesn’t involve shadow monsters?”
Elin grinned. “No promises.”