Page 6 of Beacon

I nodded, but although I helped him stand, I didn’t immediately follow him towards the stairs. Instead I lingered, just as I did every day, meticulously checking everything once more—the wicks were trimmed, the fuel replenished, the clockworks wound and maintained, the lenses and windows cleaned…but although everything seemed to be in order, I wasn’t satisfied until I’d checked everything twice more. Everythingappearedto be in order, and yet…

“Marisa?”

Father waited for me several steps down, concern filling his eyes as he watched me, even though this ritual was nothing new. I didn’t care that my paranoia caused him worry; it was better than the alternative—my mistakes costing another life. The ones I’d already stolen were an unbearable weight on my heart; I couldn’t bear another.

I took a steadying breath, and after one final glance around, I looped my arm through his so he could lean on me as we made our way down the stairs to the kitchen.

Faint sunlight tumbled through the window, creating a cheery effect in the homey room that was entirely lost on me. I helped Father ease into a chair before cutting him a slice of the rye bread I’d baked yesterday and preparing him a cup of tea. After giving him both, I immersed myself in washing the dishes, basking in the rare solace that came from keeping my hands busy.

As I worked, Father chatted to fill the long stretches of silence I suspected he found uncomfortable, doing his part to make up for my lacking role in the conversation by talking enough for both of us. Normally, I was an avid contributor to our conversations. Over the years we’d established a variety of signs that allowed me to convey all my thoughts, feelings, and ideas as needed, a precious secret only the two of us shared. Yet there were still moments I was content to simply hear him talk, the tone of his words as soothing as a lullaby.

I allowed his words to wash over me as he discussed the lighthouse and his plans to work on the repairs for several of the creaking stairs…until he paused, hesitating in a way that was all too familiar. My heart lurched. I spun around and began frantically shaking my head.

He sighed wearily. “Don’t give me that, Starfish. You know it’s time for me to take another fishing trip. I’ve delayed it long enough but can’t do so any longer, not when we’re getting so low on coin.”

Although I’d heard this same lecture every time he’d been forced to venture out to sea, it didn’t make it any easier, especially when my fear of boats prevented me from accompanying him like I used to before the accident. I used my signs to explain as much before kneeling beside him to rest my hand on his knee and stare imploringly up at him, but as usual my silent pleadings were in vain.

He rubbed my back. “I know you worry, but the day is beautiful, with no sign of an approaching storm. And I’ll only be gone a short while.”

Anylength of time with him out at sea was too long. My panic swelled. I shook my head again, but he’d returned to his tea and bread, signifying an end to the argument. But it couldn’t end here. Frustrated, I slapped my hand on the table, earning me a disapproving look.

“You’re far too old for a tantrum, Marisa.”

I shook my head and pressed my hand against my heart, my sign for fear, an emotion so gripping that I felt it’d suffocate me. Tears burned my eyes as I jerked to my feet and returned to the basin, but I made no move to resume my chores. Instead I leaned over it, struggling to control my hyperventilating breaths.

Father’s chair scraped the floor as he stood and approached until he hovered just behind me. “I promise I’ll return.”

I spun around and fell against him. He enfolded me in his arms. Even without his own words, I felt his love and comfort in his warm embrace, and with it, I felt some of my tension ease…though not completely, not when it was something that never fully disappeared.

It lingered long after Father had gathered his fishing supplies and sailed off into the ocean. From the top of the lighthouse I watched his boat fade into the horizon until I could no longer see him. My apprehension returned anew. I desperately tried to distract myself with various tasks around the lighthouse, pausing every so often to search for any sign of Father even though I knew not to expect him until twilight, when he’d return to help with the beacon.

It didn’t take long for this very beacon to tempt me with its usual seductive whispers. I once again paused scrubbing the windows to stare at it before firmly turning my back to block its temptation. But try as I might to resist, it continued to beckon me like a siren’s call, inviting me to the perfect place to forget my worries for Father, however momentarily.

The battle didn’t rage long before I succumbed, just as I always did. I went to my bedroom to open the trunk at the foot of my bed, where I found the jewelry box containing all my crystals nestled inside. Magic hummed from each one as I lifted the lid. My fingers tingled as I stroked them, the gesture soothing considering the promise contained within each crystal—an escape to another place.

I sorted through the various shapes and colors before I found the one I was looking for—a lilac crystal shaped like a perfect sphere. I cupped it in my palm and ascended the twisting staircase to the beacon. Hidden just below where the flame was lit was a tiny hole, the perfect size to slide the crystal inside. Its magic hummed as it clicked into place, and the moment I lit the beacon it began to glow.

The lilac flame shone brightly, filling the room with magic and light, which swirled around to transport me even though I remained absolutely still. I only stirred when the light gradually faded and I wandered to the window to peer out.

The familiar shore and distant village had vanished, replaced with the small island surrounded by the sea on all sides with no sign of land for miles, one of the lighthouse’s many locations. This was one of its greatest secrets that Father had shared with me years ago—our lighthouse stood not only on the shore of our village but in several locations throughout Bytamia, even in places no one else had ever seen. The crystals acted as a portal to transport me to whichever one I wished…and right now I needed the secret cavern I escaped to nearly every day.

I stepped outside into the salty breeze and stared out across the ocean’s surface, searching…until a familiar head emerged from the water. Upon seeing me, my octopus scurried over as quickly as his eight arms could carry him. I met him on the shore as he eased himself out of the water, coiled himself around my legs, and scooted himself up until he was wrapped around my shoulder where he nestled against my hair.

I managed a half smile as I patted his head.Hello, Octavius.

As always I didn’t speak his name out loud; my faithful companion had no idea what I called him. But it didn’t seem to matter that he didn’t know his name or that I didn’t speak, considering he couldn’t speak either. Ours was a friendship based on silence, which was one reason I found it so comforting.

I’d first discovered him shortly after the accident. I’d heard octopuses only lived a few years, but he’d been around these past ten, as if his life had been extended by the magic of his home, my current destination.

I picked my way along the shore that sloped downward around the base of the lighthouse until I reached the water. I paused on the edge, just far enough away that the waves rolling across the sand couldn’t graze my toes.

Octavius inched his way down my body and into the water, pausing to peer behind him in his usual invitation to follow…but I couldn’t move. He waited with his usual patience, understanding the battle raging within me—between my fierce love for the sea and my fear of it—of not wanting to be near the water but needing the solace that only came from it. A different victor emerged depending on the day.

But today, more than ever, I needed my love of the sea to reign victorious so I could enter my cave. I took several steadying breaths before steeling myself and easing forward a hesitant step. I stiffened as the water rolled over my bare toes and waited, allowing the sea’s majesty to calmly roll over me, taking with it some of my fear. Octavius lightly caressed the top of my foot in silent assurance and I finally managed to release my pent-up breath.

Before I took another step, I searched within myself for any signs of the magic I’d spent a decade suppressing, not wanting to risk it emerging when I touched the water. But it’d been buried too deeply for me to feel even the slightest stirring, as if its flame had been completely extinguished. Good.

Satisfied, I inched forward another step, allowing the waves to gradually wash over me—first my toes, then my feet, followed by my ankles. My stiff tension relaxed with every step as the water slowly healed my anxieties, pulling them out into the sea with each roll of the tide.

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