Beneath The Wild Sky

Chapter 4: The Lighthouse Watch

The lighthouse hadn’t changed.

It still stood tall at the edge of the cliff, battered by wind and salt, its red-and-white paint peeling like old wallpaper. Sereia’s boots crunched over gravel as she approached, camera swinging from her neck, hair tugged loose by the gusts off the sea. The sky stretched wide above her, the kind of endless blue that only seemed to exist in places forgotten by time.

She paused at the gate. The padlock hung open, probably left that way by the preservation society. Tourists rarely came this far out, especially in early spring. Driftwood Bay’s lighthouse was more myth than attraction.

But to her, it was memory.

Sereia stepped inside, the heavy door groaning behind her. The scent of rust and stone met her instantly. The spiral stairs were the same—narrow, uneven, cold underfoot. She started up without hesitation, her legs remembering the rhythm from summers spent sneaking away to this exact place.

Kaelen had loved it here.

Halfway up, Sereia paused, palm against the cool stone wall. She remembered breathless laughter, fingers brushing against hers, Kaelen’s voice echoing off the walls. A secret place, just for them. No parents, no pressure, no questions they didn’t want to answer.

Just the sea, the sky, and each other.

At the top, sunlight streamed through the grimy glass windows, casting fractured light over the metal floor. Sereia stepped out onto the small balcony. Wind surged up from the cliffs, tangling her hair, tugging at her jacket. She leaned against the railing and let herself breathe.

Click.

She raised her camera and captured the view. The ocean glittered in the sun, wild and unending. Far below, waves crashed against the rocks with relentless force.

“Didn’t expect to find you here.”

Sereia jumped.

Kaelen stood just inside the doorway, a backpack slung over one shoulder. Her expression was unreadable, but there was no mistaking the flicker of recognition in her eyes. Or the way her gaze lingered on Sereia’s face a moment too long.

“I could say the same,” Sereia said, trying to steady her voice.

Kaelen stepped onto the balcony, standing beside her but not too close. “I was doing a water salinity check at the cove. Saw your car.”

Sereia nodded, unsure what to do with her hands, her camera, her breath. “I didn’t think anyone came here anymore.”

“Only weirdos like us,” Kaelen said, with the ghost of a grin.

They stood in silence, the kind that pressed against your ribs.

“I used to come up here when I missed you,” Kaelen said suddenly, her voice soft, nearly swallowed by the wind.

Sereia’s heart twisted.

She turned toward her, but Kaelen was still looking out at the sea. “After you left. This place felt like… us.”

Sereia opened her mouth, then closed it again. She wanted to ask—why didn’t you reach out? Did you ever wonder how I felt? Did you ever think I could’ve stayed, if you’d just asked?

But she didn’t. Because it wasn’t fair. Because she’d kept just as quiet.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye properly,” she said instead. “I didn’t know how to.”

Kaelen nodded, eyes still on the horizon. “I get it. You were always meant for more than this town.”

“Maybe,” Sereia said, her voice low. “But I didn’t realize leaving meant losing everything else.”

Kaelen turned then, and their eyes met.

There was a flicker there—something raw, something real—but it passed too quickly. Kaelen dropped her gaze, shifting her weight. “Do you ever think about it? About… if things had been different?”

Sereia’s chest ached. “All the time.”

Kaelen gave a soft, humorless laugh. “Yeah. Me too.”

The wind whipped between them, cool and restless.

They stood together, old ghosts pressing in from all sides, too many words left unspoken.

“I should get back,” Kaelen said after a while, adjusting her backpack. “The data doesn’t analyze itself.”

Sereia nodded. “Right. Of course.”

Kaelen hesitated before stepping away. “It was good seeing you. Really.”

“You too.”

And then she was gone, her footsteps echoing down the stairs.

Sereia stood alone, the gulls wheeling above, the sea roaring below. Her fingers tightened on the camera. She had spent years taking pictures of the world, trying to capture moments she didn’t want to forget.

But none of them had ever looked quite like this—like something beautiful you weren’t allowed to touch.