Chapter 7: What Jonas Kept
Eveline Shore
The street was empty by the time I reached the end of the alley, but I kept running—half from fear, half from the desperate need to feel I was doing something. My breath came in harsh bursts, fog burning cold in my lungs.
The stranger’s words wouldn’t stop replaying in my head.
“If he is alive… he’s running out of time.”
“They want you next.”
I stopped near the harbor rail, gripping the cold metal, my chest heaving. The first faint threads of morning light were pushing against the fog, turning it ghostly pink.
For a moment, everything felt painfully still.
Then a wave slapped hard against the rocks below—sharp, sudden, like a warning.
My trembling fingers unfolded the stranger’s message again.
Silas knew.
They want you next.
I didn’t realize tears had started until the ink blurred slightly.
Silas knew.
What did you find, Silas?
Who would kill to bury it?
My throat tightened. I pressed the note to my chest as if holding it closer might bring him back.
A Footstep Behind Me
I spun so fast I nearly slipped.
“Eveline?”
My exhale came out shaky.
It was Mrs. Talbot, the owner of the quaint lighthouse gift shop—the kind woman who sold handpainted seashells and postcards Silas used to call “admittedly adorable.”
Her silver hair was pulled into a bun, her thick sweater buttoned all the way up. She clutched a grocery bag, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in my disheveled state.
“Sweetheart, what are you doing out here so early? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I forced a smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Mrs. Talbot stepped closer, her boots scraping the wooden planks. She hesitated—watchful. “The lighthousekeeper heard noises by the cliffs last night. Almost like someone was out there.” She lowered her voice. “People are nervous, darling.”
I swallowed. “About Silas?”
“About what’s hiding in this fog,” she murmured.
Her hand reached out and squeezed my arm gently. “Be careful, Eveline. This town is changing. It’s… different now.”
A shiver ran through me.
“Different how?” I asked.
But her gaze drifted past me toward the lighthouse, where the fog swirled thick and heavy.
“Just… stay close to home.”
She offered a pitying look and shuffled off, leaving me more unsettled than before.
As soon as she disappeared down the path, I turned back to the pier.
Something pulsed in my chest—instinct, memory, fear.
Something pulling me toward the lighthouse.
The Lighthouse Door
Fog swirled around me as I approached the lighthouse. The closer I got, the stronger that instinct grew, like some invisible thread pulling tight.
The tall white tower loomed through the mist, the beacon sweeping its slow, lonely circle.
I reached the old wooden door at the base.
It was slightly open.
Just slightly.
Like someone had closed it in a hurry… or forgotten… or didn’t want to make noise.
My heart pounded.
“Silas?” I whispered.
Only the moan of wind answered.
I pushed the door open a little wider.
The hinges creaked softly, the sound swallowed immediately by the fog.
Inside, it was dim—thin stripes of light slipping through narrow windows, casting pale slices across the floor.
At first glance, the room looked normal.
Fishing charts.
A coat on a hook.
A lantern on a table.
But then—
I saw the footprints.
Fresh.
Mud and sand trailing across the floor.
Leading toward the spiral staircase.
My breath faltered.
I took a step in.
Then another.
Something metallic glimmered near the bottom of the stairs.
I crouched slowly and reached for it.
My heart stopped.
It was a charm.
A small silver compass pendant.
Silas’s pendant.
The one he wore every day.
The one I had given him on his 21st birthday.
My fingers shook violently as I lifted it from the floor.
“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no…”
Silas was here.
Recently.
A soft noise behind me—barely a shuffle—made me jerk upright.
Someone was standing in the doorway.
For one split, impossible second…
my heart believed it could be Silas.
But then the figure stepped into the thin beam of morning light—
It was Jonas.
His chest rose and fell hard, as if he had been running. His eyes locked onto the charm in my hand, and his expression changed—darkened—into something that looked like rage and fear wrapped tightly together.
“What are you doing here?” Jonas demanded, voice low and sharp.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I shot back, adrenaline burning through me. “Silas is connected to this place.”
Jonas exhaled through clenched teeth. “You shouldn’t have come alone.”
“I didn’t have a choice!”
“You always have a choice,” he said coldly. “And right now your choices are getting you killed.”
My fists tightened around the compass charm. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m trying to find him.”
Jonas’s jaw flexed. “I know. And that’s exactly why I need you to listen.”
“Then tell me what’s happening!” My voice cracked. “Stop hiding things from me!”
Jonas stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine—dark, intense.
“You found the footprints,” he said quietly. “Which means I’m not the only one who’s been searching this lighthouse.”
“Who else is searching?” I whispered.
Jonas didn’t answer.
Instead, he walked past me into the lighthouse, scanning the shadows, tense and alert.
The silence stretched unbearably.
Finally, he turned back to me.
“Eveline…” he said, voice low.
“There’s something you don’t know about Silas.”
My breath hitched. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated—something pained flickering in his expression.
Then he said the words that broke the ground under my feet:
“The night he disappeared… he tried to call me.”