Novelas y relatos de Redfield Lighthouse

“Almost there. Almost out.” Half an hour later, the sea air hit them. They emerged onto a deserted stretch of beach just outside the Menton port area. Sand clung to their wet clothes, wind whipped against their skin, and the scent of salt and diesel filled their lungs like a baptism. The Red Lighthouse—Le Phare Rouge—stood tall and stoic, its red-and-white tower cutting a line into the night, a beacon and a promise in equal measure. Ethan leaned heavily on Luca, blood and exhaustion painting a grim testament across his pale, damp face. He checked his watch, fingers trembling. “We’re cutting it close. Less than four hours until the Ithaca is scheduled to anchor. We need to be on that dock.”

A place filled with sunlight and flowers. Elena stepped out slowly. Her eyes widened. Nearby... A small stone path led toward the cliff. At the end of it stood a familiar sight. A lighthouse. Smaller than Richard's. Newly built. Its white walls gleamed beneath the sky. A bronze plaque stood before it. The Hart Lighthouse "May this light guide every soul safely home." Elena covered her mouth. Tears immediately filled her eyes. "You..." Adrian smiled. "I couldn't save the old one."