Okay, so I have no idea how any of this works, but here we go.

This is kind of exciting, right?

And a little against the rules, but rules wouldn't exist if someone wasn't supposed to break them, so that's what I think anyway.

The vibe I'm getting from my supervisor, not so much.

It seems like a rules guy through and through, which,

ugh, that's so boring. But what he doesn't know won't kill him. This can be our little secret.

This story starts where many others do, on a sharp cliff that overlooks a harsh sea.

At the top of a hill covered in jagged rocks, right before the edge drops into the hungry water below.

Satellite house. On a clear cloudless night, it stood proudly at the precipice, sending a friendly reminder to nearby sailors that someone

was watching out for them.

Someone knew where they were.

Marked their journey just like they'd marked so many others before.

Someone cared.

But on stormy cloud-filled nights where it was hard to see the tip of your nose, let

alone a helpful beam of

light, the lighthouse was something else entirely. It was a warning, a scream that could break

through the fog loud and clear and pleading. Whatever you do, don't come any closer.

And, for a long time, it worked.

Generations upon generations of ships and sailors were saved,

warned away from the rocks and the waves and the cliff that, at any given moment, would spell their doom.

The light stayed on, never wavering in its mission. The lightkeepers who lived there made sure of it.

Until one day, when they didn't.

...