Page 4 of Beacon

“I’m sorry, Starfish.”

I blinked back my tears. “I thought I’d make it, but I took a wrong turn…and by the time I arrived, the ship had already set sail.” It took a moment for me to push through my emotions in order to ask my burning question. “Why didn’t Mother—”

“She waited for you as long as she could; she wanted to say goodbye but didn’t want to force you to see her if you didn’t want to.”

My earlier moodiness felt immature, especially considering it’d prevented me from seeing Mother off. It’d be weeks before she returned.

My chin wobbled as I numbly accepted Father’s hand. He helped me to my feet and tucked my arm around his elbow before we began the long trudge up the hill back to the lighthouse, which stood as a tall, steady beacon along the rocky shore. It was nearing dusk by the time we arrived. I knew Father would need to tend to his duties in order to help any ships at sea who relied on our light…which now included Mother’s.

He paused before going inside. “Would you like to help me tonight?”

I shook my head and tugged my arm free. I wandered to the shore and settled on the sand, where I dipped my feet into the rolling tide. Rather than the water calming me as it usually did, my thoughts only darkened the longer I remained alone with them.

Not only had I missed Mother but she’d left without saying goodbye. Had I truly annoyed her that much? Hurt and resentment burned my chest, churning the warm, tingly power that always lingered just below the surface. My fragile control I’d been trying to strengthen over the years was no match for my whirling emotions fighting their way towards the surface, which only grew stronger as I recalled each and every time Mother had ever gotten annoyed with me.

With each memory, I muttered angry and hurtful words beneath my breath…which only seemed to add strength to my magic. At first I didn’t notice the way the sea responded or the change in the wind. I barely noticed anything midst my aching sadness, an emotion that seemed to trickle down my arm into my fingers grazing the surface of the water.

The sound of the sea crashing violently against the shore yanked me from my reverie. I blinked as I stared across the ocean, the water near me churning roughly despite it being a clear, cloudless night. HadIdone that? But how was that possible when I hadn’t been singing? Could my words and emotions be another fuel for my powers?

I experimented. I dipped my hand deeper into the sea, focusing on my feelings rather than singing. The water rippled, subtly at first before they slowly grew into waves, ones that began from where I touched and stretched out across the ocean.

This new discovery not only invigorated me but the challenge was therapeutic for my heartache and disappointments. The more I thought of them and even spoke them out loud, the more the waves grew, rolling farther out to sea until the ocean became as dark and choppy as it would during a storm.

“What are you doing, Marisa?”

Father’s frantic voice jolted me from my concentration. I swiveled around to find him hurrying towards me, his eyes wide with fear.

I yanked my hand from the water. “I—”

“Are you causing this?”

My heart sank as I looked across the water. What had begun as a game didn’t feel like one any longer; the sea churned angrily, a state I’d caused with my magic.

Dread pooled in my stomach. “I didn’t mean—I was just playing—”

Father spun on me, his expression wild, no sign of his usual patience. “Calm the sea.Now. Your mother is out there.”

Fear cinched my heart in a tight, unyielding grasp. I hastily dipped my hand back into the water where I could feel the sea’s energy pulsing against my hand, far more powerful than the magic simmering within me. My voice cracked as I tried to sing a soothing tune, but my voice was lost in the growing wind, my remaining magic no match for the elements.

“Stop the sea, Marisa.”

Father’s panic added to my own, trapping my voice in my throat. My anxiety grew as I looked over the sea, growing rougher with my rising fear. Desperate, I once again tried to stop the waves, pushing against my magic with all my might…but the rough sea had become an insurmountable mountain, one impossible to ascend; the effort left me exhausted, making my powers even more impossible to control.

Not sure what else to do, I scrambled onto the shore away from the rocky waves, as if distancing myself would help calm the sea. But it only continued to rage.

I didn’t notice Father had left my side until he was halfway towards the lighthouse. I scrambled after him. “Father, I didn’t mean—”

“I have to get up to the beacon.” He said nothing more as he ascended the stairs, me close behind. I hovered at the top and watched as he lit the lantern, its bright light welcome in the tense, settling darkness…and then we waited, staring out across the ocean as it continued to churn.

Eventually the sea calmed, as if the magic controlling it had finally run its course. But Father and I didn’t move; we searched the darkening horizon for any sign of the ship that had set sail less than two hours before, praying fervently that it had sailed beyond the reach of my raging powers.

Soon the twilight melted into night, yet still we lingered, silent, the despair pressing against my chest increasing the longer the horizon remained empty. This worry lingered all throughout the night. I remained by Father’s side, fear’s unrelenting grasp over my thoughts making even the thought of sleep impossible.

With the arriving dawn came a knock, which echoed ominously through the lighthouse. Jaw taut, Father left to answer it. I slowly followed, lingering on the bottom step as he opened the front door to whoever was on the other side. I didn’t hear the whispered words that were exchanged, but I saw Father’s devastation when he returned to me.

And then I knew. A strangled sob escaped past my dry throat as I collapsed onto the bottom step. “No. No, no,no.”

Tears trickled down his cheeks into his beard as Father knelt before me and gathered me in his arms, but they provided no comfort for the horror and guilt raging within me. Without him even saying anything, I knew Mother’s ship had sunk…and that it was all my fault.

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