The Lighthouse Siren Novels & Stories

I can hardly believe it myself for I've never actually seen him in this way. The ferry boat makes me a little seasick. It's funny that a girl who's an alleged siren and the daughter of a sea fisherman can get seasick still. But here I am stuffing the dramamine pills down my throat in light of the situation. It helps a little. I can still taste the bitter throw-up coming up my throat with its acid. I was never one to ride on roller coasters either. After an hour the ferry ride is done and we get off. The mist is heavy today almost as heavy as the night the sirens came and sang to me. Since this is called Siren's Point I'm sure fishermen have actually seen the likes of them around these parts.

Cringing as he heard its rusty hinges grating. He was shocked to see the sorcerer, Lofan, sitting inside whittling on his piece of wood. A face and form had begun to shape in the shavings. “I’ve been waiting for you.” He said in that strange echoing voice that nearly sounded like ti came to Zier’s ears from under water. Zierno eyed him. Feeling his gut tightening as his instincts told him something was wrong here. “Your things are in the corner.” He gestured to the far side of the hut absentmindedly. Not bothering to look up.

Everything dimmed before it went dark, and the murmuring of voices tickled my ears as I drifted out. No light filtered in through the windows and those overhead were extinguished. Only a tiny lamp above me glowed, casting shadows around the room. Although the hues had changed, the sounds were the same, and I was no longer alone. A bear of a hand clutched mine, but any attempt to turn my head to identify my companion sent shooting pains from behind my eyes, radiating through my brain and bouncing off the bone like blistering light. I whimpered through the suffering, knowing crying would be far worse. My pitiful sobs roused him, but I wasn't able to focus to identify who had assumed the bedsid

On the rocky cliff, the lighthouse stood tall under the thunderstorms that appeared like a sharp knife slashing through the dark sky with flashes of lightning piercing the night. The air was humid. But it was not only from the constant waves that surged to the cliff, but also from the intense moisture in the air that informed rain was on its way. The lighthouse was an old run-down place. Therefore, there was no light on top of it anymore. Since there was barely light, the surrounding was dark and also, windy as hell. The hint of the salty sea smell rushing straight up to Marcus’s nose made his stomach churn as an unknown uneasy feeling crept up his spine.

I wonder if it would be higher if it wasn’t near the cliffside. My mind kinda went blank as my vision was ensnared by the California shore that passed. It was early in the evening so the sun had just begun to set. The water sparkled and was an almost dark purple shade, which contrasted from the soft pink and golden oranges that swirled in the horizon. I saw some dolphins or seals jump out of the water in the distance. I smiled as it was like they were waving to me and welcoming me into their home.

"Say something, Naomi! How dare you!" I stared at him with hollow eyes. In extreme pain, it seems, one has no tears left to cry. Finally, he let me go. His smile faded as he stared at me ominously. "My dear sister, don't dream of leaving me, and don't hope for happiness." "You can only stay by my side to atone!" "I'm sure you don't want these photos sent to him, do you?" "I think he would be utterly disgusted with you." But how could Dylan ever be disgusted with me?

"But my mother took me out. She taught me the parts the charts don't draw well." "Good," he said. He circled the lighthouse we'd left. "Keeper doubled his wick four nights. Nightjar paid. Why." "To be seen," I said. "Or to see. Double-bright throws farther over shoals and cuts fog cleaner. If you're running outside the channel, you want a taller, sharper reference. If you're signalling, you want the wick's shadow in the halo, not lost in dim." The corner of his mouth considered rising. "Show me."

Elara Thorne The North-Point Lighthouse didn't look like a beacon of hope. It looked like a giant, spiral-carved bone thrust into the black gums of the cliff. Unlike the Sea of Glass, the water here was violent, a churning, iron-grey Atlantic that roared against the rocks with a sound like grinding teeth. But it was the light that stopped my heart. It wasn't a steady, rotating beam. It was a flickering, jagged pulse of amber and white. And with every flash, a sound drifted down the spiral exterior, a human voice, raw and frantic, singing a song without words.

The storm’s roar grew louder as they ascended, until at last they burst into the lantern room at the top of the lighthouse. The space was circular, glass panels cracked and clouded with salt. At its center, the massive Fresnel lens rotated slowly, powered by an old generator that hummed with stubborn life. The beam cut through the storm in long, sweeping arcs—white, blinding, relentless. Light. Dark. Light. Grey moved to the glass, scanning below. Three vehicles sat at the base of the lighthouse, positioned with surgical precision. Headlights pierced the rain like knives. “They’ve sealed the perimeter,” Lisa said. “This was never about chasing us.”

It looked ancient, its hull covered in barnacles that pulsed with a faint, rhythmic light. "The Signal is a lighthouse," Jaxon said. "But it doesn't use light. It uses resonance. Only a Chosen One can pilot that boat through the salt. And only a fated mate can survive the feedback." "Kael isn't here," I said, my voice tightening. "Then you'll go alone," Jaxon replied, a grim smile touching his lips. "And the ocean will tear you apart." I didn't answer. I walked past him, toward the pier.