Interlude I:

  The Fme Keeper’s Journals

  FLAME KEEPER!

  Burdened as you are!

  You are given a glorious purpose!

  The ntern of our nights!

  The faithful believe in thy CAUSE!

  WE BELIEVE, WE BELIEVE!

  Faithful! Forevermore!

  THEY CAME FOR THEY ARE JUSTICE INCARNATE!

  YOU KEEP US SAFE FROM THEIR VENGEANCE!

  From The Mad Zealot’s Sermons

  Lighthouse Poems and Writings. III

  First Night

  To shape the minds of a people, one must first tend to their faith. This, the Stewards have always known, to the disillusioned, blind faith is an escape. And so, we have given that to the people of this isnd. Whether this purpose is one that we did not seek or desire is irrelevant to keeping the fragile peace we maintain.

  These are the words my grandfather gave me on his st breath, as his life had eluded him. This is my first night, and I write this as the voice of my beloved Elena speaks to me at the main door, just a floor beneath the study in which I write these entries.

  By all means, my heart burns with desire to open the doors and embrace her in my arms, sharing my warmth with her as we spend this cold night together. If not for the fact that she has been dead for three suffocating years.

  They all tempt me, these fiends, or so we have called them, each night they take the voice of my dearest Elena, twisting it to be one of their senseless mimicries and cruel torture. The work I do has been passed from generation to generation.

  For reasons unknown to us, the Lighthouse is the only pce they would never step foot on when every cycle began. My grandfather was in this lighthouse some forty years ago, when he was but a young man, just like I am now.

  My life’s been one of much shame, full of mediocrity and nothing else noteworthy. The burden and purpose are given to the eldest child of the family, and since my sister died early when she was just thirteen years of age, I, second to her, reluctant and unready, have been given this purpose.

  Each night is a battle of its own. My mind is my greatest weakness; what should have been a tall fortress of solitude and strength threatens to drag me closer to the things outside. How they came to be is a mystery; even the best of us do not know. The fanatics of this isnd believe that they are a form of karmic justice.

  Some think they are the spirits of the damned, given flesh to exact vengeance. Others believe they are nothing more than demons that seep into the life of every victim they come across. Taking delight in causing suffering and pain. Small sects of the fanatics of this isnd view them as tortured souls, appealing their case to whatever god they believe rules the universe.

  They revere us not as divine beings but as people with a purpose integral to keeping the isnd retively safe every time a cycle begins. However, this does not guarantee we can save every mortal soul in this isnd from their wrath.

  A minor falsehood to protect the truth.

  And so, countless years have passed, and with the isnd came modernization. Hotels, mini clinics, rental cabins, tourist spots, and other modern infrastructures have built the isnd’s commerce and economy.

  Every cycle is different from one another, from stories and accounts passed down, it is generally believed that they take one full cycle of the sun (One year) before they are satiated, and the tall trees that sprout from the ground disappear, believed to be the point at which they come to at our world.

  They may not be physically present here inside, but it sure does not stop them at all from toying with my soul and delivering each attempt to make me go outside. This work, however, I’ve come to loathe it, is one of necessity.

  _______

  The keeper put the pen down at the desk, just beside the ntern, when unexpectedly a man came crashing down from the ceiling to his study, straight to the bed where he rests. His heart leaped with panic as he witnessed the bizarre situation he’s been given.

  The ceiling looked intact, unbroken but how the man fell in is unknown to him. The man looked terrified, his eyes without hints of pupils, a ghostly gray hue, drenched in what looked like seawater.