I will go veiry well into it

Every evening, just before sunset, the great lamp at the top came alive, sending a bright beam across the darkening water. Sailors claimed they could see it from miles away, even during the heaviest storms.

Inside, the lighthouse was surprisingly warm. A narrow spiral staircase wound around the central tower, covered in scratches, old photographs, and tiny notes left behind by visitors. At the very top sat a dusty wooden chair beside the massive glass windows. From there, the entire coastline could be seen: the distant villages, the rocky beaches, and the endless horizon where the sky disappeared into the sea.

Nobody knew who maintained the lighthouse anymore. There were no footprints around the building, no fresh supplies, and no signs that anyone had entered for years. Yet every night, without fail, the light continued to turn. Some believed it was automatic. Others insisted that an old keeper still lived somewhere inside, quietly doing his duty while waiting for the next ship to find its way home