Take a Sneak Peek: Keepers of the Lighthouse

KEEPERS

OF THE

LIGHTHOUSE

IWAN ROSS

Chapter One

Serenity Falls held a special place in Coby’s heart. The quaint town’s ancient buildings and warm people made him feel welcome. Unlike the lowlands where he had lived before, here he felt comfortable. The sound of the car’s tires rolling over the cobbled streets reverberated in his ears. The rising sun timidly peeked over the lush hilltops, casting a warm golden glow that enveloped the buildings. People rushed around, their footsteps echoing on the pavement as they placed signs outside the lively shops and hurried into buildings.

The whispers of the haunting manor Coby had left behind still lingered in his mind, but a feeling of pride washed over him for what he had accomplished during his brief time there. Thoughts of his newfound title as a lord danced in his mind, causing a fleeting smile to grace his lips.

A statue of Lord Henderson Sinclair, a wealthy aristocrat, stood prominently in the centre of the roundabout, its head serving as an unfortunate perch for pigeons and their droppings. As Coby maneuvered through the roundabout, he gazed up at the lord’s stern countenance, standing as a sentinel over the small town. Coby’s thoughts drifted to the lives lost in the tragic gold mine accident, and he fervently wished for the town to demolish the statue, reducing it to ruins.

Coby clutched his steaming cup of fresh coffee, fuelling his eagerness to be reunited with Gracie and Ewan. He pressed down on the accelerator, leaving the small town behind in a cloud of dust. Ahead, a group of tired sheep lazily wandered across the road, forcing him to slam on the brakes, the sound of the horn filling the air. Unfazed, the herder tipped his cap in greeting and gently urged the lazy bunch at the rear with his crook. As their bleats and the incessant barks of the sheepdogs faded into the distance, Coby’s phone rang once again. All morning, the never-ending ringing had been echoing in the background.

Eager to witness Gracie’s reaction to the engagement ring, he pressed his foot on the accelerator, his heart pounding in his chest. The last time he had seen Gracie, her belly had swelled with the promise of new life. It had been two months since she had left him, and he had worked tirelessly to win her back. Finally, the moment had arrived, and he was mere minutes away from his grand residence, and being reunited with the love of his life. The towering elm trees lining the road whizzed by, their branches swaying in a hazy blur.

❖

The lazy Volvo engine roared as he made his way up the steep driveway of his grand estate. The crisp morning air carried the scent of freshly cut grass, filling the car through the open windows. Coby's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his anticipation mounting with each passing second.

As he parked the car, the gravel beneath the tires emitted a satisfying crunch, harmonising with the symphony of sounds around him. The grand estate stood before him, its majestic presence commanding attention. The sun's golden rays danced upon the elegant facade, casting a warm glow on the ivy-covered walls.

Stepping out of the car, Coby felt a gentle breeze brush against his face, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers. The sound of birds chirping filled the air, creating a melodic backdrop to his eager footsteps.With each step towards the front door, his heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and nervousness. He could almost hear the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. The weight of the engagement ring in his pocket served as a constant reminder of the momentous occasion that awaited him.

As he reached the heavy wooden front door, he took a deep breath, savouring the rich aroma of polished wood and the nostalgia it evoked. The door creaked open, revealing the grand foyer adorned with exquisite artwork and intricate details.

As Coby walked through the door, he could feel the house pulsating with excitement, as if it couldn’t contain its anticipation for the upcoming joyous reunion. The coolness of the marble floor against his shoes sent a shiver up his spine, a stark contrast to the warmth in his heart. With each step inside, the anticipation mounted, creating an electric atmosphere.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, relishing the familiar scents that filled his own home after being away for so long. Now, standing in the grand entrance, he paused to gather his thoughts. The next few minutes would define their future, their love story. The journey had been long and challenging, but the promise of love and a future together propelled him forward. With a steady hand and a pounding heart, he took a step forward, eager to be reunited with Gracie and Ewan, ready to begin their next chapter together.

Something was amiss as Coby entered the grand hallway. Contrary to his expectations, there was no one around to welcome him home or embrace him with open arms. A bone-chilling coldness permeated the air, causing a shiver to run down his spine. In the dimly lit hallway, Josephine’s ghostly figure materialised, flickering and casting eerie shadows against the towering walls. Her meticulously braided hair and intense gaze hinted at her no-nonsense demeanour.

Silently gliding through the hallway, her spectral form passed right through the grand piano that stood at the centre stage. With a stern expression, she fixed her gleaming ember-like eyes upon Coby. “Come,” Josephine whispered in an ethereal hiss that reverberated off the walls. Her bony fingers reached out, and as her icy touch grazed against Coby’s skin, he felt a wave of coldness wash over him.

As they ascended the creaking spiral wooden staircase, the sound of their footfalls synchronised perfectly with the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock. The sound of a woman’s agonizing cries intensified with every step they took. Coby’s heart raced as he recognised the voice as Gracie’s. Josephine’s hand, icy and firm, squeezed his tightly, urging him to keep moving. In the distance, blending with Gracie’s cries, he could hear Elaine’s voice, urging her to push.

Coby's breath quickened as he reached the top of the staircase, the cries growing louder and more desperate. Josephine's grip on his hand tightened, guiding him towards a closed door. With a flicker of her ghostly form, the door swung open, revealing a dimly lit room.

Inside, Gracie lay on a bed, her face twisted in pain as she clutched her swollen belly. Elaine knelt beside her, offering words of encouragement. The room was filled with an eerie stillness, broken only by Gracie's laboured breathing and occasional cries.

As Coby entered the room, Josephine's presence seemed to fade into the background, her ethereal form blending with the shadows. He moved towards Gracie, his heart aching for her pain. Gently, he took her hand, offering a comforting squeeze.

Elaine looked up, her eyes filled with relief and exhaustion. "Coby, you're here," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "We need you."

Without hesitation, Coby moved closer to Gracie, his voice filled with determination. "I'm here, Gracie. We're going to get through this together. Just keep pushing, just a little longer."

Gracie's grip tightened on Coby's hand, her eyes searching his face for reassurance. With every ounce of strength, she pushed, her cries now mingling with determination and resilience. Coby stood by her side, offering words of encouragement and love, his presence a steady anchor in the midst of the haunting atmosphere.

Time seemed to stand still as Gracie's cries merged with the ticking of the clock, their rhythm echoing through the room. And then, with one final push, a cry pierced the air, filling the room with the sound of new life. A wave of relief washed over Coby as he saw the tiny, fragile form of their newborn child in Elaine's arms.

As the cries of the newborn filled the room, the ghostly presence of Josephine reappeared, a soft smile on her face. Her work was done, her duty fulfilled. With a nod of gratitude towards Coby, she began to fade away, her figure dissipating into the shadows.

Coby stood there, in awe of the miracle before him, his heart filled with a mixture of joy and reverence. In that moment, he knew that despite the chilling atmosphere and ghostly apparitions, love had triumphed. And as he held his child for the first time, he couldn't help but feel a deep gratitude for the presence of both the living and the departed, for they had all played a part in bringing this precious life into the world.

Ewan burst into the room, his speckled face flushed with excitement. “I have a brother!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with joy and wonder. Coby’s smile widened, his heart pounding in his chest as he patted the soft fabric of his jacket pocket, feeling the weight of the engagement ring waiting inside. The room was filled with an electrifying scent of anticipation, as if the very air crackled with the promise of something extraordinary about to unfold. The perfect moment, filled with promise, was almost within Coby’s grasp.

Caitlin shuffled into the kitchen, her silver hair elegantly styled in a classic chignon. With each step, her cane tapped rhythmically against the wooden floor, creating a comforting sound. Her eyes, filled with a fiery intensity, glowed in the dimly lit room. Janie, startled by her presence, yelped and quickly sought refuge under the small kitchen table, whimpering softly.

The house was enveloped in an eerie silence. Mr McTavish, the new owner, had granted the servants a week’s leave to attend Lady Grimloch’s memorial service. The absence of their usual bustle left the atmosphere unsettling. The entire town had made a grand spectacle of the event, with aristocrats and nobles from across the kingdom flocking in to partake in the festivities. However, Mr McTavish himself was absent, having rushed home to attend to the birth of his newborn.

Cameron, cradling a bundle of cut wood, jumped in surprise at the sight of his mother shuffling down the dimly lit corridor.

“Mother!” he exclaimed, his voice laced with a mix of astonishment and worry, “what on earth brings you here?” Towering over his diminutive mother, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of protectiveness towards her.

“It’s none of your business!” Caitlin spat, her voice dripping with disdain as she squeezed past him, determined to reach her destination.

“But I thought you were attending the lady’s funeral,” Cameron asked, his curiosity clear in his voice. He couldn’t comprehend why his mother was present at home instead of paying her respects.

The tapping of Caitlin’s cane abruptly ceased as she halted, leaning against an ornate table for support. She scowled at the suit of armour, seemingly annoyed by its presence, before addressing her son. “No one invited me,” she replied, her words laced with a bitter coldness, before resuming her shuffle towards her destination.

Cameron’s eyes betrayed the pain he felt for his mother’s sake. “But I don’t understand,” he sighed, his voice tinged with sadness, “you were the lady’s maid all your life.”

“Until I retired to raise you,” Caitlin barked, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “and just look at what a fine young man you turned out to be, my lord.”

Her words hung heavily in the air, causing Cameron to flinch. His grip on the cut wood tightened, and he hurried away, his anger evident in the thumping of his steps. He knew better than to further provoke his mother and desperately searched for something to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

“But they also did not invite me,” he said with a hint of melancholy.

Caitlin shrugged nonchalantly, her shoulders barely rising as she hunched. “But you were just the groom,” she said, her tone dripping with condescension, “who later became a groundskeeper,” she sneered. Her eyes, gleaming with a fierce determination, tested him, daring her son to offer a retort.

Cameron’s shoulders slumped in defeat, the weight of his failure pressing down on him. With each step he took, the sound of the clinking items echoed through the air, a melancholic symphony that underscored his retreat.

His mother, a triumphant smile curling her lips, scoffed at his defeat and shuffled down the dimly lit corridor. As she passed the living room, a chill crept up her spine, the room still haunted by the memory of the lady’s demise. She couldn’t help but steal a fleeting glance over her shoulder, finding solace in the emptiness of the silent air, broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock.

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the handrail, the cool metal offering a sense of stability as she ascended the creaking steps. Each groan from the staircase seemed to match the weight of her footsteps. When she finally reached the top landing, her body bent forward, her breath ragged and desperate for respite.

A soft light flickered from the late lady’s bedroom down the hallway, casting dancing shadows that played tricks on her weary eyes. Caitlin stole another quick glance over her shoulder, her anxiety pushing her forward through the familiar corridor.

A chilly breeze swept through the corridor, wafting the gentle fragrance of lavender along with it. Time seemed to stretch, the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clocks fading into the background, drowned out by the haunting silence. Before Caitlin could gather her courage to take another step, a spectral figure materialised, ethereal and otherworldly. Shadows danced against the walls, their movements mirroring the chaos within Caitlin’s mind, while the icy breeze whispered its secrets through the air.

“You!” Caitlin gasped, her voice catching in her throat as recognition flashed in her eyes. She brandished her cane, her trembling hand adding an air of menace to her gesture as the flickering form of the apparition drew closer. The figure, with her hair elegantly styled into an elaborate bun, moved forward with a graceful glide. Her presence exuded an otherworldly aura, her breath icy against Caitlin’s face as she hissed out her words.

Caitlin’s fear reached its crescendo, erupting from within her in a bloodcurdling scream. In her panic, she took a step back, her foot missing the landing, and she tumbled down the spiral staircase, her body becoming one with the chaos and darkness that surrounded her.

As Caitlin fell, time slowed down. The world became a whirlwind of shadows and shattered memories. Each step of the staircase became a jagged edge, slicing through her senses. Pain shot through her body like lightning, igniting every nerve ending in a symphony of agony.

Her mind raced, desperately searching for an escape. With a surge of adrenaline, she fought against the pull of gravity, clawing at the air as if it were her only lifeline. But the darkness swallowed her whole, its icy embrace wrapping around her like a suffocating shroud.

The sound of her own heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out the distant echoes of the haunting silence. Panic fuelled her movements, propelling her limbs in a desperate attempt to regain control.

In the depths of the abyss, Caitlin's fingers grazed something solid. Instinctively, she clung to it, her grip tightening like a vise. Pain seared through her hand, but she refused to let go. With every ounce of strength left in her, she pulled herself up, inch by agonizing inch.

Finally, she emerged from the darkness, gasping for air like a drowning soul. The world around her spun in a dizzying frenzy, but she forced herself to focus. Determination etched itself into her features as she took in her surroundings.

The spectral figure stood over her, emanating an eerie presence that sent chills down her spine. Shadows swirled around it, twisting and contorting in a macabre dance. Caitlin's fear transformed into a fierce resolve.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Caitlin rose to her feet, her trembling legs straining against the weight of fear. Panic coiled its icy fingers around her heart, squeezing out the warmth and leaving her breathless. Laid on the cold, unforgiving floor was her lifeless body, contorted in a twisted pose like a macabre dance.

Beside her, Cameron kneeled, his voice heavy with melancholy, causing Caitlin to wince as he pleaded for her life. But his desperate efforts proved futile, as her lifeless body’s vacant eyes stared into the void, devoid of all life and hope.

Cameron’s anguished voice echoed through the air, fading away as he tenderly caressed her lifeless, silver hair. In the midst of their sorrow, a heavy wooden door materialised at the far end of the abyss, its presence sending shivers down Caitlin’s spine.

With a forceful gust of wind, the door flung open, revealing an unsettling green glow that spilled out into the hallway. Caitlin’s ethereal eyes widened with sheer terror, her gasps for breath becoming desperate as she sought anything to cling onto.

But the futility of resistance became clear, as the gust seized her frail form, carrying her helplessly into the room, suffused with the unsettling green radiance.

In an instant, the heavy door slammed shut, sealing her inside the mysterious chamber of eternity.

Chapter Two

A pile of unopened envelopes lay scattered across Coby’s cluttered desk, their crisp edges contrasting against the chaos. He diligently worked through them, the sound of crinkling paper filling the air as he organised them into neat piles. Most of them were fan mail, their colourful envelopes left for Gracie to attend to.

He set aside the envelopes that looked like they were written by youngsters, imagining the innocence and excitement behind each stroke of the pen.

The soft babble of the baby resonated throughout the room, a symphony of new life. Newborn Struan lay peacefully in his pram before the antique sideboard, his curious eyes fixated on Josephine’s ethereal figure. She hunched over him, her voice melodic as she cooed and serenaded him with sweet lullabies, the sound hanging in the air like a delicate melody.

With furrowed brows, Coby tore open the neatly arranged envelopes, the blade of the paper knife gliding effortlessly through the paper. His concentrated gaze reflected his deep thoughts.

“What’s keeping you busy?” Gracie’s gentle voice broke the silence, her words flowing like a gentle summer breeze. Her presence made Coby’s heart flutter, his first experience of fatherhood in his middle ages. Gracie seemed to emit a subtle glow, an indefinable radiance that captivated him. Her raven hair cascaded around her face, her eyes shimmering like precious emeralds. There was a newfound kindness in her gaze, a warmth that had blossomed since giving birth.

Baby Struan’s giggles and gurgles interrupted Coby’s infatuated trance, bringing him back to reality. The letters on the page regained their focus, dancing before his eyes.

“It’s a letter from a solicitor,” he said, his eyes scanning the words, “he is asking for…” The chime of his phone interrupted their conversation, its sound cutting through the air.

“McTavish,” he answered, lifting the phone to his ear. Gracie watched intently, curiosity etched across her brow.

“When?” Coby exclaimed, the urgency in his voice silencing the study.

“I am so sorry for your loss, Cameron,” Coby said, his voice heavy with grief. “I will be there as soon as I can.” He hung up, disbelief widening his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” Gracie asked, rising from her seat and placing a comforting hand on Coby’s shoulder.

“Caitlin passed away,” Coby said, his tone laced with sorrow. “I’d better get there as soon as I can.”

Gracie hurried to the polished mahogany sideboard, and poured him a neat, stiff whiskey. She cooed her baby boy, her voice soft and melodic, giving his tiny nose a gentle tap before placing the crystal glass in Coby’s waiting hand.

“Drink this,” she said, her voice soothing, “it will calm your frayed nerves.”

Coby gulped down the velvety liquid, feeling the warmth spread through his chest, smacking his lips in appreciation. “Thanks. Will you come with me?”

Gracie’s eyes flicked to her newborn son, uncertainty etching itself across her delicate features. Coby quickly intervened, his voice tinged with desperation, trying to sway her. “You will have more support there, than here,” he pleaded, “there are many diligent servants who—”

“Mum, dad!” Ewan interjected, bursting into the study, his freckled face flushed with excitement. His hand held two limp pheasants, their feathers dull and lifeless. Josephine, her ethereal form shimmering, reacted instantly, her ghostly teeth bared, her eyes narrowed, hissing menacingly at the red-headed boy.

Ewan’s face turned pale, fear and panic colliding within him. He stormed out of the room, his primal scream reverberating through the hallway, his hurried footsteps fading into the distance.

Gracie smiled at Josephine, a glint of mischief in her eyes, before turning her attention back to Coby. Her stern gaze bore into him, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his seat. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice filled with resolve, “I will go with you, but it must be a swift stay.”

Coby’s face radiated with happiness, and as he clapped his hands together with excitement. “Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with gratitude. “I’m confident it will be a brief one.”

Gracie’s eyes narrowed, skepticism clear in her expression. “I will handle the arrangements,” she declared, her voice firm and decisive. “Josephine, come.” With a snap of her delicate fingers, Josephine sprang into action, the wheels of the pram gliding silently behind Gracie as they moved away. The tinkling sound of the baby’s giggles gradually faded into the distance. Shortly after, Coby heard Elaine’s shrill scream of terror echoing through the hallway, followed by Gracie’s infectious laughter.

❖

“But mum!” Ewan pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation, the sound echoing through the empty corridor. “I don’t want to stay with auntie Elaine. I want to come with you.”

“We spoke about this already Ewan,” Gracie reminded, her tone laced with her no-nonsense attitude, her words hanging in the air. “Don’t forget, school starts tomorrow.”

Ewan’s face turned all sulky, his brow furrowing, a sneer forming on his lips. “But I miss Cameron and I…”

“Ewan!” Gracie snapped, the sharpness of her voice cutting through the tension, making Ewan flinch. “Help your dad load the stuff in the car.”

His shoulders slumped in resignation, the weight of disappointment dragging him down, Ewan trudged down the corridor, the sound of his footsteps echoing softly. Josephine’s apparition trailed behind him, her ethereal presence whispering comforting hisses, like a gentle breeze rustling through leaves.

“Go away!” Ewan snapped, his frustration boiling over, his voice sharp. “You’re not my friend anymore!”

Gracie smiled as she watched Josephine’s ample bosoms jiggling with mirth, the sound of her laughter filling the air. She gathered the snacks from the kitchen counter and headed outside.

Elaine, Josephine, and Ewan bid Coby and Gracie farewell from the expansive veranda, the sight of their waving hands slowly fading away as they departed on their journey. Travelling with a newborn baby was no easy feat, the constant hum of the engine and the occasional cry of the infant filling the car. But Coby did not mind, as he found joy in seeing Gracie’s smile and knowing she was happily occupied while he meticulously planned the perfect timing for their engagement.

It slightly bothered him that there were so many interruptions lately, standing in the way of his big plans. But he knew these were minor feats, and the time would come. And besides, Struan was a calm baby, who seldom cried.

Coby guessed it had something to do with Josephine’s apparition, constantly watching over baby Struan, entertaining him. His heart skipped a beat as he looked at his baby in the rearview mirror, the cold air giving him a shiver down his spine. His gaze met Josephine’s spectral eyes, which shone like smouldering embers, her presence sending an electrifying sensation coursing through his veins. As they travelled, she mysteriously appeared, her ethereal presence becoming their baby’s guardian from a realm beyond their own.

In that moment, Coby looked forward to the journey ahead and exchanged a glance with Gracie beside him, a silent understanding passing between them, the anticipation of what lay ahead filling the car with a sense of adventure.

The scenery along the winding road from Serenity Falls to Grimloch shifted dramatically, morphing into an entirely unfamiliar landscape. The climb up the highlands seemed to stretch on endlessly, with each incline feeling steeper than the last.

The air grew thinner, carrying the scent of pine trees and damp earth. Mist clung to the distant peaks, enveloping them in an ethereal haze. The sound of rushing water echoed faintly, as if whispered by hidden streams. Coby’s hands gripped the steering wheel, feeling the vibrations of the engine beneath his fingertips. Gracie leaned closer, her excitement palpable. The winding road seemed to defy gravity, leading them higher and higher into the unknown.

❖

The courtyard of Serpent’s Manor was filled with the presence of ancient stone statues, their time-worn faces gazing upon the newcomers. The air carried a hint of lavender, mingling with the salty scent of the nearby ocean. As Coby and Gracie stepped out of the car, a cool breeze that whispered secrets from centuries past greeted them. The imposing manor loomed before them, its grandeur and mystery captivating their senses. Down the steep staircase, two servants emerged and scurried with haste.

They greeted Coby and Gracie with polite bows, their attire matching the grandeur of the manor. Coby couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride in his chest as he stood outside the grand entrance of the magnificent manor. The servants guided them through the ornate double doors into a vast foyer adorned with intricate tapestries and sparkling chandeliers.

As they walked through the manor, Coby and Gracie couldn’t help but marvel at the opulence and grandeur that surrounded them. The walls were adorned with priceless paintings and the halls were lined with statues of mythical creatures. It felt as if they had stepped into a different era, where luxury and extravagance were the norm.

Their footsteps echoed on the marble floors as they were led to the spacious living room, furnished with plush velvet sofas and gilded coffee tables. Coby’s gaze darted around the room, finally settling on the worn-out armchair where Lady Grimloch had taken her final breath. The image of her lifeless eyes flooded his mind, sending a shiver down his spine.

He couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease, as if the walls of the manor were whispering secrets. Gracie, however, seemed enthralled, her eyes alive with excitement and wonder.

Struan’s joyful babbling filled the air, his animated chatter bringing the room to life. A sudden icy breeze swept through, causing the flames in the fireplace to sway and clatter, their embers swirling upward. Struan’s giggles and gurgles grew louder as a spectral figure materialised, casting flickering shadows on the walls. With her spectral silver hair flawlessly fashioned into a classic chignon, the figure’s narrow eyes emitted a sinister glint.

In disbelief, Coby mumbled, “Caitlin.” The spectre hissed menacingly at Coby and Gracie, her bony, gnarled fingers reaching for baby Struan like a raven’s talons. Gracie’s gasp echoed through the room, her shock visible on her face, and she jumped to her feet, shouting a stern “no!” as a warning.

A servant strolled in, carefully carrying a tray adorned with hot, aromatic beverages. Caitlin’s apparition whirled around, her ember eyes locking onto the servant. With a bloodcurdling scream, the servant dropped the tray, the deafening clatter reverberating through the room, and bolted out. Her terror-filled screams reverberated down the corridor, slowly dissipating into silence.

Coby’s heart pounded in his chest as he lunged forward, grabbing Struan protectively. Gracie stood her ground, her eyes filled with determination. The spectre’s gaze shifted from the fleeing servant to the trio before her.

With a burst of supernatural strength, Caitlin lunged towards them, her fingers elongating into sharp, talon-like claws. Coby’s instincts kicked in, and he pushed Gracie out of harm’s way just in time.

The spectre’s claws sliced through the air, narrowly missing Coby’s shoulder. He stumbled backward, Struan held tightly in his arms. The delicate ornaments on the shelves trembled and clinked together, their fragile forms resonating with each heavy thud of Cameron’s footsteps against the polished floor.

Coby, holding Struan tightly in his arms, and Gracie rushed to find solace behind Cameron’s towering figure, seeking shelter from the impending chaos. As Cameron’s eyes widened with horror, a surge of grief and fear surged through his heart, intertwining in a tumultuous dance. “Mother!” he exclaimed, his deep voice reverberating like thunder, a forceful command demanding Caitlin’s attention.

With a trembling finger, Cameron pointed menacingly at the apparition, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and trepidation. Caitlin’s expression softened, her spectral form visibly touched by the sight of her mortal son. Her gaze shifted between Struan and Cameron, a silent exchange of love and longing. Slowly, she dissolved into the enveloping shadows, fading away like a wispy trail of smoke.

Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the sound of Coby’s heavy breathing and Struan’s whimpering. Her knees gave way, and Gracie sank down, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

Coby knelt down beside Gracie, wrapping his arms around her trembling form. They stayed there, embracing each other, finding solace in their shared fear and relief. Cameron approached them, his face etched with a mix of gratitude and sorrow.

“We’re safe now,” he whispered, his voice filled with a soothing reassurance. “Caitlin is gone.”

Gracie nodded, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t believe she was here, trying to harm Struan,” she choked out, her voice quivering with residual fear.

Cameron placed a gentle hand on Struan’s head, his touch filled with love and protectiveness. “We won’t let anything happen to him,” he vowed, his voice firm and resolute.

Coby looked up at Cameron, gratitude shining in his eyes. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. “We couldn’t have faced her alone.”

Cameron nodded, a sombre expression on his face. “She was my mother once,” he breathed. “But she became something else, something dangerous. I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

Gracie took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “We’ll get through this together,” she said, her voice filled with determination. “We’ll protect Struan and make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Cameron smiled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Yes,” he agreed. “We’ll find a way to keep your family safe.”

As the room slowly returned to normal, the embers in the fireplace flickering peacefully, the trio clung to each other, their bond strengthened by the shared experience. They knew that their journey was far from over, but with their love and determination, they were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

A pale, colourless sky stretched across the horizon. Dressed in a sleek black suit, Coby stood beside Gracie, who wore a figure-hugging black dress. They solemnly joined Cameron on the small estate graveyard, the sombre atmosphere hanging heavy in the air. A handful of servants, now pallbearers, moved with a solemn grace, carrying Caitlin's coffin towards its final resting place.

The weight of loss hung heavy in the air, amplified by the crashing waves and the piercing cries of seagulls. A cluster of wraiths, their mournful pleas echoing through the graveyard, seemed to be drawn to Caitlin's headstone, as if longing for her presence. Their spectral faces were hidden beneath dark robes, their presence marked by a palpable sorrow. Their mournful pleas filled the air, intertwining with the minister’s words as he solemnly chanted the “Dearly beloved.” Each word uttered amplified the wraiths’ anguish, their desperation adding fuel to their unwavering devotion.

Coby couldn't help but feel a mixture of sorrow and fascination as he watched the wraiths. Their spectral forms seemed to flicker in the fading light, their sorrow so tangible that it was almost suffocating. It was as if they were bound to Caitlin, unable to let go of her even in death.

The sound of Cameron’s heart-wrenching sobs echoed through the cemetery as the servants lowered his mother’s coffin into the ground. As the minister continued his solemn chant, Coby, Gracie, and Cameron stood stoically, their faces etched with grief.

Gracie's hand tightened around Coby's, seeking comfort in their shared grief. Her figure-hugging black dress clung to her like a second skin, a stark contrast to the ethereal presence of the wraiths. They were a reminder that life was fleeting, and that death had a way of leaving an indelible mark on those left behind.

Cameron, ever the composed one, stood tall and resolute. His presence exuded a quiet strength, as if he were a pillar of support for everyone present. His eyes, though filled with sadness, held a flicker of determination, a silent promise to honour Caitlin's memory.

The minister’s voice grew softer, and as it did, the wraiths retreated further into the shadows, their sorrowful pleas fading away. The ceremony ended, leaving behind a sense of emptiness and a void that would never be filled.

Coby, Gracie, and Cameron remained by Caitlin's grave, their hearts heavy with grief. They stood together, finding solace in each other's presence, knowing that they would navigate the uncertain road ahead together. In the midst of this haunting symphony, they found strength in their unwavering devotion to Caitlin and in the bonds that held them together.

“Mister McTavish,” a young servant called out with a hurried voice as she approached Coby, “there is a man here to see you.”

Coby nodded politely and excused himself, as he followed the servant through the lush landscape into the stately home. The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the air as they passed the bustling kitchen, and the warm glow of the crackling fire in the cosy living room embraced his senses.

Coby’s gaze wandered around the room, taking in the elegant furnishings and the flickering shadows dancing on the walls. His eyes searched for the man who awaited him, but he saw no one. The unfamiliar noble customs left him feeling confused and unsure of how to navigate the situation.

The servant smiled graciously, her eyes gleaming with familiarity. She bowed politely and reassured him, “I will show him in, my lord. It is customary to wait.”

As Coby anxiously waited, he sank into the tattered armchair, its worn fabric yielding beneath him. Memories of the lifeless body he had discovered in that very spot, Lady Grimloch’s tragic demise, flashed through his mind. Lost in his thoughts, he was startled as a tall figure emerged from a side door.

The man was dressed impeccably in a finely tailored suit, the silver strands of his hair shimmering under the warm glow of the chandeliers. He introduced himself as Sir Kincaid, the late lady’s personal solicitor. Gracie strolled into the room, her eyes filled with excitement, and settled herself comfortably on the plush, luxuriously soft couch beside Coby.

Sir Sinclair’s voice resonated with authority, its velvety tones filling the room. As he spoke, Coby and Gracie sat up straighter, captivated by his words. He wove tales of the manor’s history and legends, painting a picture of a world beyond imagination, a world that Coby and Gracie now found themselves a part of.

A mix of excitement and trepidation coursed through Coby’s veins as he listened intently. The scent of aged parchment mingled with the faint aroma of burning wood from the crackling fire. He could feel the weight of anticipation building within him, knowing that the winding road had led them to this place, a place steeped in mystery and wonder.

With a flourish, Sir Sinclair produced a stack of crisp documents from his satchel. Coby’s breath caught in his chest as he leaned forward, his fingers tingling with anticipation. The papers, with their official seals and signatures, held the deeds to his new properties.

The sharp scratching sound of the pen against the crisp paper filled the air as Coby meticulously signed the documents and deeds. Sir Sinclair stood by, his watchful gaze fixed upon Coby’s every movement.

Coby’s eyes eagerly swept across the titles of the deeds, absorbing the intricate calligraphy and the weighty significance they held. His curiosity piqued as he came across a title that seemed unfamiliar, a name that felt foreign on his tongue. With a quizzical expression, he pointed it out, seeking answers.

Sir Sinclair leaned in, his aged face close to Coby’s, as if sharing a secret. His voice, tinged with authority and knowledge, filled the air. “That, my esteemed lord, is the illustrious Hotel Luminara, nestled on the captivating isle of Eilean Tùrnan,” he declared confidently, his words brimming with tales of bygone eras and undiscovered riches.

Coby’s eyebrow arched in curiosity, a silent invitation for someone to elaborate. Gracie simply shrugged, her indifference adding to the air of mystery that surrounded the hotel’s name.

❖

The news of Coby’s newfound wealth and inheritance spread like wildfire, capturing the attention of people around the world. Meanwhile, in the vibrant city of New York, a distinguished gentleman with greying hair relaxed in his opulent apartment situated above his gleaming jewellery store. He reclined in a plush leather chair, engrossed in the pages of the Fifth Avenue Chronicles, as the bustling sounds of the city drifted in through the open window.

Reed Winslow’s eyes widened in astonishment, resembling saucers, as he devoured the article detailing the ownership of the prestigious Hotel Luminara. The breathtaking Tempest Island, also known as Eilean Tùrnan, had found its new master. Clad in a luxurious gown and comfortable slippers, Reed indulged in his vice, puffing on a cigar, while the rich aroma filled the air. He raised a glass of scotch to his lips, savouring each sip with eager anticipation, the taste lingering on his tongue as he smacked his lips in satisfaction.

The article began, recounting the island’s past as a renowned refuge for the world’s elite, aptly nicknamed Temptation Island. Reed’s eyes eagerly scanned the lines, searching for the name of the new proprietor. And there it was, in bold letters, Coby McTavish, the esteemed owner of the illustrious hotel. In that very moment, Reed’s heart momentarily ceased its beating when he discovered that Mr McTavish was also the new lord of Serpent’s Manor. His breath quickened, and the rhythm of his racing heart echoed in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the bustling city below.

Reed's mind raced as he contemplated the implications of Coby McTavish's newfound wealth and inheritance. The Hotel Luminara and Serpent's Manor were not just any properties; they held a deep significance in Reed's family history.

But now, the tables had turned. Coby McTavish, a name unknown to Reed until now, had swooped in and claimed ownership of these prized possessions.

Memories of his father’s stories flooded his mind, painting vivid pictures of the lavish hotel nestled on Tempest Island. It was rumoured to conceal a mysterious secret, a truth that had the potential to completely transform their family’s destiny. Reed had always dismissed these tales as mere legends, but now, with Coby McTavish in the picture, he couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth to them.

Reed’s heart swelled with joy as he beheld his treasured collection of precious gems and antique collections, each item meticulously arranged and adding a touch of elegance to every corner. It was at this moment that he fully grasped the gravity of the situation—his reputation as the Prince of Diamonds was on the line. If McTavish dared to uncover the secrets of the Hotel Luminara, he risked not only diminishing his own status but also tarnishing his family’s legacy.

A mixture of fear, panic, and an insatiable greed coursed through Reed's veins. He knew he had to act swiftly and decisively to protect what was rightfully his. With a determined glint in his eyes, he stubbed out his cigar and poured himself another glass of scotch, steeling himself for the battle that lay ahead.

Reed Winslow, the Prince of Diamonds, would not let his family's legacy crumble under the weight of Coby McTavish's newfound wealth. He would do whatever it took to reclaim what was rightfully his, even if it meant unearthing long-buried secrets and challenging the very foundations of his own icy fortress of greed.

Reed, a man skeptical of the digital age, opened a desk drawer and retrieved his father’s cherished “little black book.” As he flipped through the pages, a wave of nostalgia washed over him, accompanied by the sight of his dad’s meticulous handwriting. Glancing at the antique brass clock on his desk, he mentally calculated the time difference for Anchorage, Alaska. The ticking sound of the clock filled the room, adding to the ambiance.

Being aware that retired military personnel tended to rise early, Reed felt optimistic about his chances. With a sense of purpose, he reached for the old landline telephone and dialled Ryder Blackwood’s number.

The phone emitted a familiar ring, resonating in Reed’s ear as it echoed on the other end. Suddenly, the deep voice of Ryder, tinged with authority, answered the call. Reed wasted no time and identified himself.

“It’s Reed,” he said, his voice filled with anticipation. “Would you like to grab a scotch later?” The call abruptly ended, the click signalling the gears of action starting to turn.

❖

Ryder Blackwood, a seasoned soldier who served in the special forces, possessed a steadfast determination that was etched upon his face. His piercing green eye and captivating blue eye distinguished him in every photograph. Because of his incredible skill at blending into icy environments, his wife and comrades lovingly nicknamed him “lollipop.” His stomach fluttered with excitement as he hung up the phone after talking to Reed Winslow.

Outside his cosy wooden cottage, the wind howled relentlessly, carrying with it the playful dance of falling snow. Preparing for the harsh elements, Ryder adorned himself with winter boots, a sturdy parka, and an Ushanka hat, and bravely stepped out. “Shut the door!” his wife’s voice echoed from the warm lounge, where she diligently sewed.

The visibility was severely limited, but Ryder pressed on, relying on his instincts to find his way to the old barn. The biting wind cut through his protective gear, yet he persevered, trudging through the thick blanket of snow. Finally, he reached the weathered barn doors, guarded by an electronic lock. Soft beeps resonated as he entered the combination, patiently awaiting the green light and the sound of the lock disengaging.

Stepping inside, the interior resembled a typical barn, with tools neatly arranged on shelves, a snowmobile, a quad bike, and an all-terrain vehicle. Wasting no time, he made his way to the back of the barn, ascended the ladder, and opened an ancient chest. Casting a cautious glance over his shoulder, he climbed inside the chest, descended a concealed ladder, and sealed the lid above him. Enveloped in darkness, he fumbled in search of the light switch, and as the overhead lights flickered to life, a hidden chamber was illuminated.

To anyone else, the sight would have elicited a gasp, but not Ryder. He was intimately acquainted with his arsenal. Rows upon rows of cutting-edge weaponry adorned glass shelves, gleaming with a silent potency.

Ryder took a moment to marvel at the sight before him. The assortment of firearms, knives, and gadgets were a testament to his years of training and expertise. Each weapon held a story, a memory of missions completed and lives saved.

His fingers traced the familiar contours of his favourite sniper rifle, the precision instrument that had never failed him. Beside it, a collection of sleek handguns and deadly throwing knives caught his attention. He knew that in the field, these tools would be his lifeline.

But it wasn't just the weapons that filled the hidden chamber. There were also shelves stocked with high-tech gadgets, from night vision goggles to miniature drones. These tools were crucial in gathering vital information and gaining an advantage in the dynamic battlefield.

As Ryder surveyed his arsenal, his mind focused on the task at hand. He knew that he couldn't afford to let his guard down, not even for a moment. The world was a dangerous place, and he had dedicated his life to protecting it.

Climbing back up the concealed ladder, Ryder exited the chamber and carefully sealed the lid of the ancient chest. He knew that his secret hideout was safe, hidden away from prying eyes. It was his sanctuary, a place where he could prepare for the battles to come.

With renewed determination, he trudged through the biting wind and falling snow, determined to reach his cosy wooden cottage. Inside, his wife looked up from her sewing, concern etched on her face.

"Everything alright, lollipop?" she asked, her voice filled with worry.

Ryder smiled, his gold-plated teeth shining brightly. "Just another mission, my love," he replied. "I'll always come back to you."

And with that, he embraced his wife, knowing that his unwavering determination would guide him through the challenges ahead. With his skills honed and arsenal at the ready, Ryder was poised to face the challenge that Reed Winslow brought.

Chapter Three

In the small room, Coby found all the essentials to immerse himself in his writing. With Cameron and two servants lending a hand, they painstakingly hauled in two desks, a plush Chesterfield couch, and a stylish sideboard, before carefully fixing a whiteboard to the wall. Gracie, with her keen eye for design, added a personal touch with her addition of two bankers’ lamps, casting a warm, golden glow, an ornate oriental rug that felt plush underfoot, and a ticking wall clock that irritated Coby with its incessant noise.

Coby’s frustrated sighs filled the room, harmonising with the rhythmic blinking of the cursor on the empty white screen. Lacking inspiration, he sat there, fixated on the blinking cursor, its bright light irritating his eyes. The commotion barely registered in his mind as Gracie and Cameron’s footsteps echoed in the room, hauling a cot into the study for baby Struan. His thoughts wandered through the labyrinth of his mind, desperately seeking inspiration, but his imagination remained elusive, like a shadowy cloud looming above.

Gracie’s terrified shriek startled Coby, the sound piercing through the silence like a sharp knife. As the world around him slowly came back into focus, he noticed the lifeless talking doll in her hands. Its haunting green eyes seemed to pierce his soul, while its jaw hung open in a frozen expression. Gracie forcefully tossed the doll into a corner, treating it like a contagious disease; the loud thud against the wall echoed throughout the room. She wiped her hands on her dress, a look of disgust etched on her face.

“Eek!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with revulsion, as she gently nestled Struan into his cot, the softness of the bedding comforting against her fingertips.

Despite the distractions, Coby found comfort in having his family around. He thought of a way to keep them busy while he got some work done. Their livelihoods depended on his writing, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders.

Inspiration hit him like a sudden bolt of lightning, and his eyes sparkled with anticipation. He could weave a fictional tale, drawing inspiration from the recent events that had upended their lives like a powerful tidal wave. As his thoughts drifted, they landed on the island of Eilean Tùrnan, picturing the grandeur of their new hotel. With enthusiasm coursing through his veins, Coby dived into research, and stumbled upon an article that made his eyes grow wide with awe, his fingers trembling with anticipation as he scrolled through the captivating words.

“Listen to this!” Coby exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement as he leaned closer to Gracie, eager for her undivided attention. Without hesitation, she sank into her plush leather office chair, the supple material embracing her body. Her intense stare fixed on Coby, her eyes shimmering like the blazing embers of the highlands at dusk.

Coby recognised the familiar look on her face, the one that silently pleaded for him to divulge his secret. Gathering his courage, he took a deep breath and began, his voice tinged with anticipation. “According to this captivating article,” he said, his words hanging in the air, “the island is renowned for something else.” He paused, hoping for a reaction, as the room seemed to hold its breath.

“Pray, do tell,” Gracie’s voice, dripping with seduction, whispered through the silence, sending a shiver down Coby’s spine. The air in the room grew heavy, filled with the anticipation of what was to come.

But Coby remained steadfast, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. Despite Gracie’s attempts to ensnare him, he remained too engrossed in his discovery to be swayed. With unwavering determination, he continued, his voice steady as he read aloud, “In the year nineteen hundred, the three keepers of the island’s lighthouse vanished mysteriously.”

Gracie’s demeanour shifted instantly. She sat up, her mischievous smile fading into a mask of curiosity and intrigue. The room seemed to hold its breath once more, as the weight of the unknown settled upon them.

Coby leaned in closer, his voice now a hushed whisper. "And the strangest part is, they were never found. No trace, no clue, just vanished into thin air."

Gracie's eyes widened, her fingers tightening around the armrests of her chair. The atmosphere crackled with an electric tension, as if the very air itself was charged with the mystery of the vanished keepers.

A chill swept through the room, causing the temperature to plummet. Goosebumps prickled on Coby's skin, but he pressed on, determined to uncover the truth. "Legend has it," he continued, his voice trembling, "that their disappearance was not an accident. It was something far more sinister."

Gracie's breath hitched, her gaze locked onto Coby with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. The room seemed to close in around them; the walls closing in like the jaws of a beast ready to devour its prey.

Coby softly clicked the mouse, sending the ancient photograph to the sleek printer. His hands quivered slightly as he delicately placed the print on Gracie’s smooth, mahogany desk, unveiling a captivating image of the three lighthouse keepers. Their genuine smiles, forever preserved in the snapshot, seemed to radiate a mysterious aura, as if they held the very essence of the island’s enigmatic secrets.

Gracie's voice was barely a whisper, filled with a mix of fear and fascination, "What happened to them, Coby? What could have made them disappear without a trace?"

Coby's voice grew firmer, his determination shining through, "There are whispers among the locals, tales of a malevolent presence haunting the island. Some say it's a vengeful spirit, seeking retribution for a long-forgotten sin."

The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in even tighter. Shadows danced in the corners, their sinister forms mocking their search for the truth. Coby and Gracie stood steadfast, their determination shining through, as they prepared to confront the looming darkness.

As the words lingered in the air, a sudden gust of wind swept through, shaking the windows and causing the lights to flicker. Darkness enveloped them, leaving only the sound of their pounding hearts echoing through the room.

But they were undeterred.

With a flicker of determination in their eyes, Coby and Gracie ventured forth into the unknown, ready to unravel the secrets of the vanished lighthouse keepers and face whatever malevolence awaited them on the haunted island. The delightful sound of Struan’s baby babble filled his pram, echoing in the air.

❖

As the thick mist enveloped the rugged terrain of the highlands, Gracie, Coby, and baby Struan embarked on a winding car journey towards the remote port of Lachlan’s Cove. The narrow road wound its way through ancient forests, where the branches whispered mysterious secrets as they gently rustled against the car windows. Struan’s soft coos filled the car, a soothing melody amidst the wildness of the surroundings.

The air grew cooler with each passing mile as they descended towards the coast, the scent of salt and seaweed mingling with the freshness of the highland air. The landscape transformed into sweeping cliffs that towered above, plunging dramatically into the churning sea below. Against the rugged rocks, the crashing waves formed a symphony of thunderous applause.

Upon reaching Lachlan’s Cove, the port bustled with vibrant activity. Fishing boats bobbed in the turbulent waters, their sails billowing in the brisk wind. Seagulls soared overhead, their melodious cries echoing across the bustling harbour. Gracie held Struan close, his wide eyes taking in the sights and sounds of the lively port.

Amidst the chaos of the bustling harbour, they found Captain MacLeod, a weathered seafarer with a twinkle in his eye and tales of the open ocean etched onto his weather-beaten face. The Storm’s Herald, his boat, awaited them, its sturdy hull rocking gently against the dock. As they stepped on board, the salty spray of the sea kissed their faces, carrying promises of adventure and mystery on the wind. Captain MacLeod skilfully steered the boat away from the safety of the harbour, guiding them towards the distant silhouette of Eilean Tùrnan, shrouded in myth and obscured by mist.

The ocean roared beneath them, its azure depths turning tempestuous as they ventured further from the mainland. Waves rose and fell like slumbering giants, the boat riding their crests and valleys with practiced ease. Gracie held Struan tightly, feeling the gentle sway of the boat beneath her, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the elusive Tempest Island beckoned.

As the sun descended below the horizon, casting a fiery glow across the turbulent sea, the silhouette of Eilean Tùrnan emerged from the mist like a spectre of the past. Its towering cliffs loomed ominously, and the relentless crashing of waves against the rocky shore filled the air with a tumultuous symphony.

With each passing moment, the island drew closer, its secrets and whispers carried on the howling wind. The journey to Eilean Tùrnan was not merely a physical passage but a leap into the unknown, a dance with destiny and the untamed forces of nature that awaited them on the shores of Tempest Island.

Amidst the chaotic corridors of the John F. Kennedy International Airport, Ryder Blackwood’s commanding presence stood out, capturing the attention of those rushing by. Clad in a tailored suit that exuded power and sophistication, his steely gaze swept over the sea of faces with a calculated intensity. Concealed within the compartments of his luggage, high-tech firearms lay silent, evading detection from the watchful gaze of security scanners.

The advanced gear he carried was a testament to his meticulous preparation and unwavering determination. As he navigated through the security checkpoint with ease, the scanners remained oblivious to the dangerous arsenal hidden within his possession. Each step closer to his departure gate brought him nearer to his mission—the task that Reed Winslow had entrusted him with.

Reed Winslow, the enigmatic patriarch of a powerful dynasty, had called upon Ryder Blackwood for a specific purpose—to deal with Coby and protect the legacy of the Winslow family at all costs. The weight of this responsibility bore down on Ryder's shoulders, fuelling his resolve and sharpening his focus as he embarked on this crucial journey to Glasgow.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the airport, Ryder moved with a sense of purpose that set him apart from the ordinary travellers. His connection to Reed Winslow and the shadowy world of familial legacies and hidden agendas marked him as a formidable force to be reckoned with. As he boarded the flight to Glasgow, the wheels of fate were set in motion, intertwining the destinies of Ryder Blackwood, Coby, and the Winslow dynasty in a web of intrigue and danger.

As the plane soared through the clouds, Ryder's mind raced with thoughts of what awaited him in Scotland. The information provided by Reed Winslow had been cryptic, yet it painted a picture of a dangerous adversary who posed a threat to the family's reputation and standing. Ryder’s mission was crystal clear: eliminate Coby McTavish and safeguard the Winslow family’s legacy by any means necessary.

Chapter Four

As the Storm’s Herald approached the shores of Eilean Tùrnan, the mist thickened, enveloping their view of the island in a shroud of obscurity. Captain MacLeod skilfully maneuvered through treacherous waters, his expertise clear in each calculated turn of the wheel.

The air was pregnant with anticipation as Gracie, Coby, and baby Struan braced themselves for the unknown that lay ahead. The island’s reputation as a realm of mystery and enchantment had ignited their curiosity, intensifying their yearning to unveil its secrets.

Stepping off the boat onto the rocky shore, an eerie silence welcomed them, accompanied only by the distant cry of seagulls, their haunting calls reverberating through the desolate landscape. As they ventured further inland, a thick layer of fallen leaves muted their footsteps. The forest seemed to hold its breath, acknowledging their presence. Ancient trees, with gnarled branches whispering ancient secrets, stood watchful as they passed.

The path ahead narrowed, leading them deeper into the heart of the island. The mist clung to their clothes, dampening their spirits but not their determination. They pressed forward, their senses heightened, seeking answers within the concealed recesses of the island.

Suddenly, a faint glimmer caught their attention. Following the ethereal light, their hearts raced with anticipation as they discovered a hidden clearing where the majestic Hotel Luminara stood tall, its ancient walls narrating tales of time.

Approaching the grand entrance, its ornate doors beckoned them to enter. Crossing the threshold, a profound sense of awe washed over them. The interior was akin to stepping into a bygone era, with opulent chandeliers casting a warm, inviting glow and intricate tapestries adorning the walls.

A kindly innkeeper wearing a knowing smile greeted them. With warmth, she welcomed them and graciously offered a cosy room. Excitement surged within them as they accepted her offer, eager to unravel the mysteries of Eilean Tùrnan, and settled into their accommodations.

As night fell, the island seemed to awaken with enigmatic energy. Whispers of forgotten tales filled the corridors of Hotel Luminara, captivating their imaginations. Guided by the ethereal glow of candles, Gracie, Coby, and baby Struan ventured forth, their senses heightened by the flickering light and shadows dancing upon the walls.

The tantalising aroma of sizzling cuisine wafted through the air, enticing their taste buds, while melodious piano notes provided a soothing backdrop. They joined the queue of eager diners, their anticipation palpable amidst the bustling dining room. The hostess, elegantly clad in a resplendent evening gown, welcomed them with a rich foreign accent, reminiscent of a seasoned maître d’, lending an air of refinement to the ambiance.

“McTavish,” Coby corrected as she disclosed their surname, her demeanour formal. Gracie and Coby observed her attentively as she delicately traced her perfectly manicured nail along the list of names in the reservations book, while Struan’s joyful babbling filled the surrounding space.

“No,” the hostess replied, a hint of concern in her voice, “we seem to be missing a reservation for—”

Suddenly, a dapper gentleman in a pristine evening suit swiftly approached, gently guiding the hostess to a secluded corner. Coby strained to overhear their hushed conversation, catching snippets of words like “madam,” “monsieur McTavish,” and “oui.” The mention of "McTavish" seemed to cause a ripple of recognition.

The hostess nodded eagerly, her demeanour transformed, and she donned the widest, most artificial smile Coby had ever witnessed. With a newfound sense of urgency, she hurried towards the small family.

“Monsieur McTavish!” she exclaimed, her hands clasping her cheeks, “it is truly an honour to have you grace us with your presence this exquisite evening.”

The man in the suit swiftly intervened, motioning for Coby and Gracie to follow him. He led them to a spacious, secluded table, where a group of attentive waiters sprang into action, ready to cater to their every need.

Once Coby and Gracie took their seats, they felt a noticeable change in the atmosphere. The waiters moved with a sense of purpose, their every movement precise and graceful. The table was adorned with elegant silverware and sparkling crystal glasses, hinting at the fine dining experience that awaited them.

Gracie gently cooed to Struan, deftly removing the dummy from his mouth and pushing it back in again. His infectious giggles accompanied this repetitive motion, filling the room with warmth and joy. The sound of his laughter tugged at Coby’s heartstrings as he watched their playful interaction. Gracie’s innate mothering instincts were truly a sight to behold, captivating Coby’s admiration for her even more. In that moment, he knew he adored her like never before, and a determination formed within him to ask her to marry him at the soonest opportunity.

Choosing the Duck a l’Orange from the menu, they found it to be a culinary delight. They savoured each morsel, the flavours dancing on their tongues and creating a symphony of taste. While Gracie attentively fed Struan his baby food, Coby’s gaze wandered to the monochrome photographs adorning the walls, transporting him to bygone eras. Each image, frozen in time, showcased the island’s inhabitants and their history. One photograph in particular captivated him – it depicted lighthouse keepers with radiant smiles, exuding pride in their roles on this very island.

As Coby’s eyes moved to another series of images, he noticed acclaimed celebrities from a forgotten era. Among them stood a young couple, their eyes brimming with affection. There was something subtly different about them – a plainness that hinted they didn’t belong to the same class as the others. Yet, their love for each other shone through their expressions, illuminating the scene with an undeniable connection.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Coby turned to the waitress when their Crepes Suzette desserts arrived. Pointing to the photograph, he asked, “Who are they?” The waitress followed his gaze, her eyes lingering on the image for a moment.

“Oh,” she replied, a slight shiver running through her as she rubbed her arms, “that is Jaime and Tilly Ross. They used to manage the hotel back in the day. Rumour has it they’re still around, if you catch my drift,” she added with a mischievous wink.

Her words hung in the air like a foreboding cloud, sending a shiver down Coby’s spine. Now, in this very place, he knew he had stumbled upon something significant. He had a clue, a starting point for his investigation, and he was determined to unravel the mystery that lay before him.

As they savoured the last morsels of their dessert, the hostess approached their table, her smile as wide and artificial as before. She expressed her utmost pleasure in serving them and thanked them profusely for choosing their establishment.

Leaving the restaurant, Coby and Gracie couldn't help but feel they had experienced something truly extraordinary. The tantalising aroma, soothing piano notes, and impeccable service combined to create a dining experience that would forever linger in their memories.

The night enveloped them as they walked out, leaving lingering thoughts about the peculiar encounter with the hostess and the dapper gentleman – was it mere coincidence or a twist of fate? For now, they were content to bask in the afterglow of an unforgettable evening of sizzling cuisine and refined ambiance.

A notice adorned their bedroom door, informing them that their belongings had been moved to the Lighthouse Suite, the pinnacle of luxury within the hotel. Coby followed Gracie, gently manoeuvring the pram, as they made their way towards their new abode. The sheer delight radiating from her face confirmed they had stepped into a realm of opulence.

The Lighthouse Suite was a vision of grandeur, adorned with plush furnishings and elegant decor. Soft, golden lighting bathed the room, casting a warm glow that enveloped them. The air carried a subtle hint of lavender, creating a soothing and serene atmosphere.

As they entered, the sound of gentle waves crashing against the shore drifted in from the balcony, adding tranquillity to the ambiance. The panoramic view of the ocean unfolded before them, a vast expanse captivating their senses, with water shimmering under the moonlight.

Their fingers brushed against the smooth, silk sheets of the king-sized bed, inviting them to sink into its luxurious embrace. The room exuded an undeniable sense of comfort and indulgence, a sanctuary where they could escape from the outside world.

They relished in the feeling of being spoiled and cherished, savouring every second of the experience. It was as if every detail had been meticulously crafted to ensure their utmost satisfaction. The weight of the evening's experience still lingered, intertwining with the opulence of their surroundings.

Gracie’s presence brought a deep sense of gratitude to Coby as he watched her settle in. He marvelled at the extraordinary turn of events that led them to this pinnacle of luxury. It was a reminder that sometimes, life surprises us with moments that surpass our wildest dreams.

❖

Before embarking on his exploration of the Hotel Luminara’s enchanting phenomena, Coby waited patiently for Gracie and baby Struan to succumb to a peaceful sleep. With a brisk stride through the softly illuminated and hushed corridors, he eagerly rubbed his hands together, feeling the anticipation tingle through his fingertips. As he stepped outside, a crisp sea breeze pierced through his clothes, sending a shiver down his spine, while he revelled in the glorious illumination of the moon.

He stumbled upon a forgotten graveyard, its weathered headstones standing as silent witnesses to the island’s past. The moonlight cast an eerie glow on the stones, illuminating the moss-covered graves. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and saltwater, mingling with the distant sound of seagulls cawing, their cries echoing through the night. Underneath these sounds, a steady chorus of crickets chirped, their rhythmic calls adding an unsettling layer to the night.

Coby felt a sense of reverence and curiosity as he traced his fingers along the engraved names on the headstones, each one holding a story of lives long gone. Nearby, amidst the shadows, he noticed ghostly forms—wraiths huddled together, their ominous, flowing robes blending into the dark. Their bowed heads formed a chilling tableau, their voices blending into a haunting chorus of sorrow. The ground seemed to mourn with them, adding to the air of decay and desolation. The crickets' chirping persisted, a constant background hum that made Coby’s skin prickle with an unspoken warning.

Intrigued, Coby was drawn toward the ethereal sound, his eyes scanning the names etched on the aged marble tombstones. A shiver ran down his spine as he tiptoed past a plot where two gravestones stood side by side, a solemn tribute to the enduring love between Jaimie and Tilly Ross. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed a fresh bouquet resting delicately between the headstones, a poignant reminder of a recent visit from a grieving heart. He wondered who could still remember these souls, and why their memory was kept alive.

A sudden sneeze forcefully erupted from Coby’s nose, causing his body to jerk back. The mournful chants of the wraiths abruptly ceased, leaving an eerie silence in the air. “Sorry,” Coby murmured, raising his hand in a feeble attempt to apologise. His voice sounded thin and out of place in the oppressive quiet.

The wraiths’ ethereal eyes flickered like smouldering embers, illuminating their decaying visages. They bared their rotting teeth, hissing and spitting venomous insults that assaulted Coby’s ears with a barrage of malevolence. The air grew colder, and a chill ran down his spine as the rancid smell of decay intensified. He felt a wave of nausea and fear wash over him, his heart pounding in his chest.

Coby took a hesitant step back, his mind racing to find a way to escape the wrath of the vengeful spirits. The malevolent whispers seemed to claw at his sanity, each word dripping with ancient resentment and sorrow. His instincts kicked in, adrenaline surging through his veins.

He sprinted away from the wraiths, their haunting cries echoing in his ears. The ground beneath him trembled, gravestones crumbling and breaking as the spirits pursued him. The air crackled with dark energy, the atmosphere thick with an otherworldly presence. Shadows danced around him, mocking his feeble attempts to escape. The wraiths closed in, their ethereal forms swirling with unholy fury. Their ghostly hands reached out, claws ready to tear him apart.

Coby's breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled upon a dilapidated crypt. With no other option, he threw himself inside, the rusted door slamming shut behind him. The ancient stone walls whispered secrets, their voices mingling with the frenzied cacophony outside.

In the dim light, Coby's eyes scanned the crypt for any sign of escape. He noticed a small crack in the wall, a sliver of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. With a surge of determination, he squeezed his body through the narrow opening, scraping his skin against the rough stone.

Outside, the wraiths wailed in frustration, their fury pulsating through the night. But Coby was free, his body trembling but his spirit unbroken. He ran, his footsteps pounding against the earth, leaving the haunted graveyard behind.

As he reached the safety of the hotel, Coby looked back one last time. The wraiths lingered at the edge of the graveyard, their malevolent gazes fixed on him. He knew he had escaped their clutches, but the memory of their haunting presence would forever haunt his dreams.

Arriving in Glasgow, Ryder immediately immersed himself in the shadows of the city. His contacts, forged through years of clandestine operations, provided him with valuable information about Coby McTavish’s whereabouts. The hunt had begun, and Ryder was determined to bring Coby down before he could unleash his damaging revelations.

Every step Ryder took was calculated, every move executed with precision. Time was of the essence; the legacy of the Winslow family hung in the balance. The secrets they held, the power they wielded, were not meant to be exposed to the world. Ryder saw himself as the guardian of their history, the protector of their reputation.

He punched his destination, Elm Brook Manor, into the GPS of the rental car, the screen glowing brightly against the dim interior. He anxiously awaited as the device calculated the route, his fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. Suddenly, the monotonous voice of the female navigator filled the car, providing desperately needed directions. Ryder had to remind himself to drive on the left side of the road, the honking horns and screeching tires serving as a constant reminder of his unfamiliar surroundings.

The streets of Glasgow blurred past him, buildings casting long, eerie shadows under the streetlights. His mind whirled with a storm of thoughts, the weight of his tactical backpack in the passenger seat a constant reminder of the high-tech firearms it held. In his imagination, he pictured Coby McTavish, his target, a man whose face he had only seen in a photograph. He envisioned the horror that would wash over Coby’s features as a bullet pierced his skull, ending his life in an instant.

The dark thoughts fuelled his resolve. His foot slammed on the accelerator as he yearned to reach his destination. The seconds ticked by, each minute bringing him closer to the moment when he would confront Coby and fulfil his deadly mission. The cityscape thinned out as he approached Elm Brook Manor, the grandeur of the estate looming ominously in the distance, a stark contrast to the urban sprawl he left behind.

Ryder's heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and dread. He was ready for what lay ahead, the shadows of Glasgow now firmly behind him as he prepared to confront the truth—and end it.

Ryder parked the car near Elm Brook Manor, his senses heightened as he stepped out. The air was thick with tension, and he could feel the weight of his mission pressing upon him. He adjusted the straps of his tactical backpack, ensuring quick access to his weapons.

Approaching the grand entrance, Ryder's heart raced. Within those walls, Coby McTavish was hiding, plotting to reveal the secrets that could destroy the Winslow family's legacy. He was determined to prevent that at any cost.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the heavy doors, entering the dimly lit foyer. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the empty halls as he cautiously made his way deeper into the manor. Every creak of the floorboards sent a shiver down his spine, but he remained focused.

Finally, he reached a study at the end of a long corridor. The door stood slightly ajar, revealing a sliver of light from within. Ryder's hand instinctively gripped the handle of his weapon, ready to confront Coby.

In one swift movement, he pushed the door open, unveiling a red-headed boy seated behind a desk, his face covered in freckles. Ryder's eyes narrowed as he locked onto his target.

Ewan’s eyes widened with terror as he stared down the cold, metal barrel of a deadly weapon. His trembling voice filled the air, quivering with raw fear as he pleaded, “Please, don’t shoot!” His hands shook as he raised them above his head, desperation evident in every movement.

In the dimly lit manor, Josephine’s ghostly ears picked up on his desperate plea, causing her ethereal form to gasp in an eerie hiss. Her apparition floated swiftly through the walls, hastening towards the source of the sound.

Ryder, his finger tightening around the trigger, barked out a demand, “Where is Coby McTavish?”

Ewan stammered, his voice quivering, "I... I don't know. He... he left days ago."

Ryder's grip on the weapon tightened, his eyes burning with determination. "Don't lie to me."

Ewan's eyes darted around the room, his mind racing for an escape route. “I swear, he went to that creepy Serpent’s Manor place.”

Just then, Josephine's ghostly figure materialised behind Ryder, her eyes filled with wrath. “Release him,” she whispered in a chillingly calm, ghostly hiss, sending shivers down their spines.

Ryder’s heart pounded in his chest as he startled, his body jerking in alarm. He spun around, his eyes locking onto Josephine’s spectral figure. Her eyes glowed with an eerie intensity, resembling smouldering embers. Ryder’s face turned as white as a sheet, drained of all colour. With a trembling hand, he squeezed the trigger of his high-tech gun. The weapon emitted a barely audible sound as it unleashed a spray of deadly bullets. Despite his best efforts, the bullets merely passed through Josephine’s ghostly silhouette, shattering the wall behind her with a deafening crash.

Josephine’s spectral form contorted into a menacing grimace, revealing her teeth. She hissed with a bone-chilling intensity, her gnarled fingers stretching towards Ryder’s vulnerable throat.

“What in God’s name!” Ryder exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief and fear. Reacting quickly, he ducked and rolled, evading Josephine’s grasp. Bolting through the door, he sprinted through the dimly lit corridors. Josephine’s apparition materialised before him, blocking his path just as he reached the front door. Without hesitation, he ran straight through her, his terrified cries shattering the tranquil air, startling nearby birds from their perches.

Finally, he reached his car. He quickly hopped in, started the engine, and sped off, his mind filled with a flurry of thoughts and emotions.

Little did Ryder know, the true test of his courage and loyalty was just beginning. The secrets within Elm Brook Manor ran deeper than he could have ever imagined, and the fate of his mission hung in the balance.

Chapter Five

“Dad!” Ewan exclaimed, his voice ringing out in the quiet room, causing Coby to flinch. He quickly moved the phone away from his ear, the sound almost too loud. The room was filled with a tense silence as Coby anxiously waited for Ewan to speak.

“There was… there’s this wicked man who came looking for you,” Ewan urgently interjected, his voice quivering with fear. Coby could sense his soon-to-be stepson’s unease and knew he had to calm him down.

“Take a deep breath, Ewan,” Coby said, his voice steady and reassuring. He glanced out of the window, the muted colours of the grey sky and the strong sea breeze giving the room a sombre atmosphere. It seemed like the perfect day to stay indoors and deal with the situation at hand.

Ewan hesitated for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. “Uh, let me think,” he finally responded.

“Take your time,” Coby urged, moving to the balcony to ensure his conversation remained private. He hoped Gracie wouldn’t overhear him speaking to their son.

Ewan’s voice trembled as he continued, “There was something strange about him.”

“What was it?” Coby pressed, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yes, that’s it!” Ewan exclaimed, his voice filled with realisation. “He had one green eye and one blue eye. It felt like he could see right through me. He gave me this death stare. I almost…”

Coby interrupted, unable to contain his concern. “What did he sound like?”

Ewan let out a frustrated sigh. “He didn’t sound like one of us. It was strange, like those people we see in the movies.”

“American?” Coby questioned, trying to piece together the puzzle.

“I guess,” Ewan replied uncertainly.

“Where is he now?” Coby asked, his voice laced with worry.

“He ran away,” Ewan answered, the tension clear in his voice. “Josephine scared the shit out of him, and he tried to shoot her and…”

“He had a gun!?” Coby exclaimed, a mix of fear and astonishment creeping into his tone. Gracie, overhearing the conversation, rushed out with wide eyes, but Coby quickly silenced her with a finger to his lips.

“Yes,” Ewan confirmed, his voice filled with dread. “He pointed it at me and then shot at Josephine.”

Coby’s heart sank at the thought of his loved ones in danger. “Listen to me carefully, Ewan. Run to Auntie Elaine’s cottage and ask her to call me. It’s urgent.”

“Okay,” Ewan replied, and hung up.

Coby stood frozen for a moment, his mind racing with worry. As he waited anxiously for Elaine to call, he couldn't help but replay Ewan's words in his head.

The image of a man with mismatched eyes haunted his thoughts. Who was this wicked man and why was he looking for Coby? The mention of a gun sent chills down his spine. He couldn't bear the thought of his family being in danger.

Finally, Elaine called, her voice filled with concern. Coby wasted no time explaining the situation, urging her to call the authorities immediately. He knew they needed to find this man before he could harm anyone else.

As he hung up the phone, Coby felt a wave of urgency wash over him. He needed to protect his family. With determination in his eyes, he turned to Gracie, who had been silently watching him with worry.

"We need to stay calm, Gracie," he whispered, his voice filled with determination. "But we also need to be prepared. Let's gather our things and head back home. It's safer."

Gracie nodded, her eyes reflecting a mix of fear and trust. They hastily gathered their belongings, including everything the baby Struan needed.

As they made their way out of the hotel room, Coby couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every sound seemed amplified, and every shadow felt ominous. He held onto Gracie's hand tightly, determined to keep her safe.

“No boats can come or go in this weather,” the young girl at the front desk cautioned. Gracie shot Coby a quick, anxious glance, her eyes darting back and forth. He gratefully thanked the clerk and gently grasped Gracie’s hand, guiding her towards their opulent room.

❖

While Gracie lovingly tended to Struan, Coby ventured off to occupy his restless mind. The Hotel Luminara held countless captivating tales of the supernatural, waiting to be unravelled. As he leisurely strolled down the softly illuminated corridor, a sudden halt interrupted his stride. A flicker in his peripheral vision, his writer’s senses tingling. Curiosity compelled him to retrace his steps, where his gaze fell upon an intricately adorned door marked with a forbidding "do not enter" sign.

Room 316 exuded an undeniable aura of intrigue, captivating Coby’s attention. The tarnished brass numbers on the door bore the unmistakable marks of time’s passage, their aged appearance adding to the enigma. However, it was the final digit that seized Coby’s gaze. The "6" had detached itself, now dangling upside down, casting an eerie silhouette that distorted the room number into 319 amidst the sombre lighting of the dimly lit hallway. Whispers of peculiar incidents within this room had reached Coby’s ears, leaving him to ponder whether the jumbled numbers were a mere coincidence or a forewarning of something far more ominous lurking beyond that threshold.

Unable to resist the allure of the mysterious room, Coby's curiosity overwhelmed him. With trembling hands, he reached out to grasp the brass handle, hesitating for a moment before turning it slowly. The door creaked open, revealing a room shrouded in darkness. A chill ran down his spine as he stepped over the threshold, the air heavy with anticipation.

The room itself seemed frozen in time, its decor reminiscent of a bygone era. Dust particles danced in the dim light that filtered through heavy curtains, casting eerie shadows on the faded wallpaper. Coby's heart raced as he cautiously explored the room, his senses heightened by the unknown. As he rummaged through the desk, he came across a solitary candle, its shape distorted and aged. With a flick of his wrist, Coby ignited the candle, instantly filling the room with a warm glow and casting eerie shadows along the walls.

As he ventured further, he noticed ancient photographs resting on the dusty bedside tables, capturing moments frozen in time. Intrigued, he lifted a photograph of a young man and woman, their eyes locked in a tender gaze. Their faces came alive, as if whispering ancient secrets and long-forgotten tales. A rush of recognition flooded through Coby, hitting him with the force of a tidal wave. It was Jamie and Tilly Ross, the former hotel managers from a distant time.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the room, extinguishing the lone candle that had flickered on the desk. Darkness enveloped Coby, and a feeling of unease washed over him. He could hear distant whispers, barely audible but filled with an undeniable sense of urgency.

With a deep breath, Coby gathered his courage and pressed on. As he turned to leave, a soft voice echoed through the room, urging him to stay. It was a voice that seemed to come from the past, calling out for someone to uncover the truth.

He slowly turned, his heart pounding in his chest, and saw the ethereal form of a young woman materialising before him. The surrounding air seemed to thicken as Tilly Ross, her spectral figure flickering, cast haunting shadows that danced along the walls. Outside, the wind picked up, its eerie whistle carrying secrets through the gnarled branches of the surrounding trees. Coby shivered, feeling a chill that seemed to seep into his very bones, causing him to rub his arms for warmth.

In that moment, a sense of awe and curiosity consumed Coby. He knew he couldn’t tear his gaze away from this extraordinary sight before him. It was a mystery begging to be unravelled. As he continued to watch Tilly, a ghostly apparition of a man flickered into view, standing beside her. Coby’s breath caught in his throat as he recognised the figure – it was Jamie, Tilly’s husband. They stood together, their ethereal gazes fixed upon Coby, silently conveying an unspoken understanding.

❖

Coby could feel the weight of their presence, the weight of their story, pressing upon him. As he stood there, he realised that he had come across something truly remarkable, something that could unravel the mysteries of this room, which seemed suspended in time.

With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, Coby mustered the courage to speak. "Jamie? Tilly?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. The couple before him seemed to acknowledge his presence, their ghostly figures shimmering in response.

As he looked into their eyes, Coby felt a connection, as if their souls were reaching out to him. It was a silent invitation to delve deeper into their story, to uncover the truth that had been buried in the layers of time.

Driven by an insatiable desire to understand, Coby began to ask questions. The couple's apparitions flickered and shimmered, as if struggling to maintain their ethereal form. But they remained, their gazes filled with a mixture of sadness and hope.

Through their fragmented whispers, Coby pieced together the tale of Jamie and Tilly Ross. They were once the proud managers of the grand hotel, where the mysterious room now stood. But a tragic event, a secret that had been buried within these walls, had shattered their happiness.

Their spirits had been trapped, unable to find peace until someone could uncover the truth and set them free. Coby realised that he was the one destined to unveil their story, to bring closure to their restless souls.

Their ethereal forms flickered and wavered, their presence becoming fainter, like distant stars on the verge of fading away. Just as Coby’s lips began to part, ready to beg them to stay, Tilly’s spectral hand shot out, her gnarled fingers pointing directly at the antique desk. Jamie’s apparition shimmered, seemingly aligning with his departed wife, pleading with Coby.

Confusion furrowed Coby’s brow, his eyes darting nervously between the ghostly duo and the cluttered desk. “Is there something you need from the desk?” he murmured, his voice tinged with curiosity.

“Read,” Tilly whispered in an ethereal hiss, sending an icy shiver down Coby’s spine, intensifying his sense of urgency. He hurriedly rummaged through the drawers, desperately searching for something to read. Among the discarded items, his gaze fell upon an old newspaper, its pages yellowed and brittle with the passage of time.

With a sense of hope, he pulled it out, only to be met with Tilly’s disapproving hiss. In a hasty motion, Coby cast it aside, his attention then captured by a faded, folded letter. Delicate handwriting adorned its surface, the words “Dearly beloved, Jamie” catching his eye.

“Read,” Tilly’s voice whispered again in a ghostly hiss, urging him onward.

Coby's hands trembled as he unfolded the letter, feeling the weight of the past in every crease. He cleared his throat, his voice steady but filled with anticipation as he began to read aloud the words that held the key to Jamie and Tilly's restless spirits.

“Remember the crickets,” the letter began, its words etched with love and longing. Coby’s voice cracked with emotion as he continued, his eyes scanning the faded ink on the fragile parchment, feeling the rough texture under his fingertips.

“I can no longer bear the burden of living without you. It haunts me day and night, consuming my every thought,” Coby read, his heart pounding in his chest, the sound reverberating in his ears. As he spoke, the weight of Tilly’s serenade seemed to hang in the air, making it difficult to breathe; the atmosphere heavy and suffocating.

“I remember the summer nights,” Coby’s voice trembled, “when we would lie outside, awestruck by the vastness of the starry sky.” Tears welled up in his eyes, the saltiness mixing with the scent of aged paper and ink, as he continued reading, his voice filled with a mixture of sorrow and longing.

The letter unveiled a tale of love, a love so intense that its remnants haunted this place, forever etched in their spirits. Coby’s voice shook with anticipation as he continued reading, feeling the weight of the truth now within his reach, like a heavy burden on his shoulders.

“I remember how the chirping crickets used to irritate me. You used to comfort me, saying ‘it is the male playing his violin to serenade his female.’ Your words changed my perception and the way I listened to the chirping.” Coby’s voice trembled, the chorus of chirping crickets resounding in his mind, as if they were amplifying the yearning in his heart. The air carried a hint of nostalgia, reminiscent of those warm summer nights they spent together.

“After your untimely passing, I sat for hours outside, yearning to hear your laughter, hoping to catch a whiff of your familiar scent.” Coby’s voice trembled with grief, his words choked with sadness. He could almost smell the faint scent of Tilly’s perfume, as if she were still present in the room, her ethereal form trembling before him.

“Sadly, I could not bear the pain, and had to put an end to it. Jamie, I lacked the same strength as you and couldn’t shoulder the responsibility of managing the hotel alone. Believe me, I only had one choice, and I took it,” Coby’s voice faltered, the weight of Tilly’s decision palpable in the air, suffusing the room with a heavy silence.

Tears streamed down Coby’s face, his heart breaking with every word he read. He took a deep breath, the air heavy with sorrow, and continued.

“I beg for your forgiveness, Jamie. I can only hope that one day, our spirits will find solace in the truth being known. Please find a way to forgive me and release us from this eternal torment.” Coby’s voice trailed off. The room filled with a profound sense of longing and regret.

The couple's apparitions flickered, their forms fading into the ethereal mist. It was as if a weight had been lifted, their souls finally finding a semblance of peace. Coby's heart swelled with a mix of sadness and gratitude. He had fulfilled his destined role, bringing closure to Jamie and Tilly's restless spirits. The room felt lighter, no longer haunted by the burden of their secret.

Tilly’s ethereal figure slowly dissolved into the thick veil of shadows, her presence fading away like a distant memory. In its wake, a faint echo of her whispered words lingered in the air, barely audible yet filled with significance: “Find May Yore.” As the remnants of their spectral forms dissipated, Coby’s heart swelled with a profound sense of accomplishment. He had become a part of a timeless tale, unraveling the intricate layers of the past, and liberating two imprisoned souls.

With a newfound understanding of the power of truth and forgiveness, Coby pledged to ensure that Jamie and Tilly's story would never be forgotten. Their tale would live on, a reminder of the depth of human connection and the importance of seeking truth, no matter the cost.

Ryder’s mind was consumed by haunting images of Josephine’s spectre, her neatly braided tresses and eyes brimming with pure hatred towards him. The rhythmic purring of the engine faded into the background as he maneuvered through the winding roads of the Scottish Highlands. His knuckles tightened, turning as white as snow, but he couldn’t shake off the intense gaze in Josephine’s eyes, glowing like fiery embers, and her gnarled fingers extending towards his throat. Ignoring the speed limit, he pressed on, driven by his mission. The longer it took to complete his assignment, the greater the cost for his client.

With his solid reputation, Coby McTavish should have perished by now. Yet, here he was, relentlessly pursuing a man seemingly shielded by phantoms. The thought became unbearable, causing Ryder to unleash a primal scream that reverberated through the cramped, bright red Ford Fiesta. In a fit of rage, he raised his hand above his head and unleashed a furious onslaught of punches against the car’s roof.

In the distance, a herd of sheep lazily crossed the road. “What the hell?” Ryder exclaimed as he slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching in protest. The cacophony of the sheep’s bahs assaulted his ears, further fuelling his fury. He swung open the car door and hurled a barrage of insults at the oblivious animals. Undeterred, the flock inched forward. Ryder placed his hand firmly on the steering wheel, leaning on the horn, its incessant blaring adding to the chaos.

“Hang on,” the sheepherder called out, trailing behind the flock. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

Little did the herder know that his innocent words would seal his fate. They ignited a burning rage within Ryder. He did not understand the phrase and perceived it as an insult. The word “knickers” was forbidden in his mind, never to be uttered again.

Gripping his pistol tightly, he stealthily approached the herder, positioning the barrel against the back of his head, and pulled the trigger. A soft “phfft” was the only sound the gun made before the herder recoiled, sinking to his knees, and collapsing forward. Ryder swiftly surveyed the surroundings, dragging the lifeless body off the road, concealing it beneath a canopy of shrubs. The sheepherder’s white beard, speckled with blood, brought a radiant smile to Ryder’s face.

“Swift justice, swift payment,” Ryder muttered, echoing his own motto, before swiftly returning to his car and speeding away.

The fiery orange sun was slowly descending beneath the vast horizon, casting a warm glow over the surroundings as Ryder approached the imposing heavy metal gates of Serpent’s Manor. The creaking sound of the gates echoed through the air as he came to a halt. Adopting a flawless British accent, Ryder, now disguised as a delivery driver with a cap pulled low, announced, “Delivery for Mister McTavish,” catching the attention of the approaching security guard.

With a tinge of annoyance, the security guard informed him, “Me lord is out of town,” fuelling Ryder’s fury. His frustration got the better of him, causing him to snap, “When will he be back?” In his haste, he forgot to mask his accent, eliciting a stern, questioning gaze from the guard.

Realising his mistake, Ryder quickly regained his composure and replied, “Apologies, old chap. Please take your time to confirm with the staff.”

As the guard retreated towards the guardhouse, Ryder seized the opportunity to make his escape. He swiftly reversed and sped off, heading back to town.

Unbeknownst to Ryder, the security guard had no intention of calling the manor. Instead, he dialled Coby directly, sharing intricate details of the mysterious man who possessed one striking blue eye and another captivating green eye.

Chapter Six

“Find Mae Yore,” Tilly’s haunting words reverberated through Coby’s mind, their echoes blending with the sound of rain pelting against the windows. As he pondered their meaning, the piercing chime of his phone abruptly interrupted his thoughts. An unsettling call from the security guard jolted him; the man’s description matched Ewan’s. Choosing to shield Gracie from potential panic, Coby decided not to disclose the details to her.

With the storm intensifying, the small island seemed trapped in an inferno. Crackling thunder and fierce winds provided a temporary sanctuary, isolating them from the outside world. With a sigh, Coby tossed his phone aside, his anticipation growing to unravel the enigma surrounding Mae Yore and her ties to the foreboding Hotel Luminara.

The island, shrouded in secrecy, held hidden truths waiting to be unearthed. Determined, Coby’s mind wandered to his recent discoveries—the tale of the lighthouse keepers’ mysterious disappearance resurfacing. Defying the elements, he resolved to visit the eerie lighthouse.

As Coby stepped out into the tempest, rain soaked through his clothes, chilling him to the bone. The salty scent of the sea mixed with damp earth, creating an eerie atmosphere. With jagged rocks and slippery moss underfoot, the path to the lighthouse was treacherous. The roar of crashing waves filled his ears, drowning out all other sounds. Yet, amidst the chaos, there was an inexplicable sense of anticipation, as if the island itself held its breath, waiting for Coby to uncover its secrets.

With each step towards the imposing silhouette of the lighthouse, Coby’s spine tingled with an eerie sensation. Its weathered exterior seemed to hold centuries of untold stories, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding.

The flickering beam of the lighthouse cut through the darkness, casting long shadows that danced eerily along the rugged terrain. The wind howled with a haunting melody, sending shivers down Coby's spine. Every gust carried whispers of forgotten tales and lost souls. Coby's heart raced, his senses on high alert, as if the very air whispered secrets that only the island knew.

As he reached the entrance, the creaking door welcomed him into a dimly lit chamber. The scent of ancient wood and distant murmurs lingered heavily in the air. Coby's eyes gradually adjusted to the dim interior, revealing remnants of a forgotten past. Dust-covered furniture, faded photographs, and yellowed documents lined the room, begging to be explored.

His eyes fell upon a worn leather logbook, its pages filled with meticulous handwriting. With trembling hands, he opened it, immersing himself in the words of the lighthouse keepers. The logbook spoke of strange occurrences, eerie sightings, and an unexplainable presence that seemed to haunt the island.

As he delved deeper into the logbook’s pages, Coby's mind became entangled in the web of mystery and intrigue. Mae Yore's name appeared repeatedly, intertwined with the lighthouse keeper's experiences. Coby noticed a peculiar pattern—the name “Lord Frederick Hart” frequently mentioned alongside Mae’s. It dawned on Coby that Mae and Lord Hart possessed vital information that could help solve the puzzles surrounding Hotel Luminara.

Driven by a burning desire for answers, Coby was determined to unearth every detail about Mae Yore. With each passing moment, the storm outside grew fiercer, mirroring the turmoil inside his mind. The island seemed to conspire against him, as if trying to protect its secrets.

Leaving the lighthouse behind, Coby made his way back to the safety of the hotel. He knew unraveling this mystery wouldn’t be easy, but he was driven by unyielding determination. With Gracie by his side, he would navigate the treacherous path ahead, unearthing the hidden truths of Mae Yore and the haunting Hotel Luminara.

As the storm raged on, Coby's mind buzzed with questions and possibilities. He couldn't shake the feeling that his search would lead him to a darkness he had never encountered before. But he was resolute, willing to face whatever challenges lay ahead, eager to unveil the hidden tales of the island and Mae Yore, regardless of the sacrifices.

❖

Before he walked into the hotel, Coby battled against the fierce wind and relentless rain, determined to reach the small graveyard. The wind whipped through his hair, biting at his cheeks with icy fingers. In the distance, the small graveyard towered, its aged headstones resembling guardians amidst the tempest. With each step, the ground beneath him squelched, reminding him of the sodden earth.

As he moved deeper into the graveyard, Coby's determination fuelled his every step. The wind howled around him, making it difficult to hear anything besides the haunting chants of the wraiths. Their mournful cries followed him, sending shivers down his spine.

With each headstone he passed, Coby carefully ran his fingers over the cold, engraved names, hoping to find any sign of Mae Yore or Lord Frederick Hart. The atmosphere grew even more eerie as the rain continued to pour, soaking him to the bone. He paid no mind to his discomfort, his focus solely on his mission.

As he ventured further into the graveyard, the names on the headstones became a blur. The search seemed endless, and doubt began to creep into Coby's mind. He quickly pushed it aside, reminding himself of the importance of his task.

Suddenly, a glimmer caught his eye. He halted, his heart racing with anticipation. There, among the sombre headstones, he spotted a name that sent a jolt of excitement through him. But his excitement was short-lived. Standing before the weathered gravestone, he read the name “May York.” A chilling resemblance, but far from the name he was desperately seeking.

Undeterred, Coby pressed on, his eyes darting from one headstone to another in the misty cemetery. The damp earth clung to his boots, each step a heavy trudge. The rain soaked through his clothes, clinging to his skin and sending shivers down his spine. Even so, he could not find the name of Lord Frederick Hart among the plots.

Defeated, Coby abandoned his search and made his way back to the towering hotel. The rain continued to pour, obscuring his vision and making him squint against the onslaught. His limbs felt heavy, and hunger gnawed at his insides. Determined to lift his spirits, he decided to treat Gracie and baby Struan to an early lunch, hoping to find solace in their company.

❖

Coby’s drenched attire clung uncomfortably as he entered the hotel. He hurried to the dining area, seeking solace and warmth in the presence of his wife, Gracie, and their baby, Struan.

Gracie's worry was evident as she rose to meet him, pulling him into a tight embrace without a word. Coby managed a weak smile, kissing Struan's forehead and feeling a glimmer of happiness amidst his disappointment. Their love thawed his cold, damp exterior.

Gracie's infectious laughter and Struan's joyful babbling filled the air, creating a sense of peace. As they savoured a sumptuous meal, Coby’s thoughts wandered to his findings within the lighthouse. The intricate inscriptions in the logbook deepened his curiosity. His eyes were drawn to the exquisite portraits adorning the walls, their colours blending with the ornate wallpaper.

One portrait in particular caught his attention—a mesmerizing image of two graceful figures with enigmatic smiles. The vibrant hues of their clothing seemed to leap off the canvas, filling the room with a burst of colour. It wasn't just the identities that captivated Coby, but the magnificent blue diamond pendant adorning the lady’s neck. The pendant hung like a solitary star against the night sky, reflecting light tenfold and casting a soft, ethereal glow. Astonishingly, it resembled the legendary Hope Diamond, its radiance captivating all who laid eyes upon it.

Beside the lady stood a tall, distinguished man with a commanding presence. His gaze, with its striking pool-blue eyes, seemed to track Coby’s every move. Dressed in a finely tailored suit, Lord Frederick Hart exuded an aura of both nobility and mystery. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his posture conveyed an air of confidence and authority. The subtle, knowing smile on his lips suggested a man who harboured many secrets.

The diamond seemed to beckon Coby, much like the inscriptions at the lighthouse. Just as those hinted at secrets long buried, this diamond whispered tales of grandeur and mystery. Surrounded by his family’s warmth, Coby couldn’t shake off the feeling that this portrait—and its jewel—was intertwined with his fate.

“Do you have any idea who that is?” Coby asked, pointing at the painting, his voice filled with curiosity as the elegant hostess cleared their table. The clinking of cutlery and soft murmur of conversation filled the air.

“Oui!” the hostess exclaimed, her eyes widening. “She is madame Mae Yore, a figure of great prominence. And beside her is Lord Frederick Hart, her husband.”

Coby's curiosity piqued. Madame Mae Yore and Lord Frederick Hart, figures of great prominence. He turned to Gracie, silently urging her to expand on what the hostess had just said.

"Do you know anything about them?" he asked, searching Gracie's face for recognition.

Gracie pondered, her brow furrowing. “I believe I’ve come across their names before,” she mused. “If I recall correctly, Mae was a celebrated American actress in the early 1900s, famed for her impeccable style and lavish soirees. Lord Hart was known for his wealth and influence, often seen as a patron of the arts and sciences. He was the heir to a vast fortune, which included exquisite jewellery and estates passed down through generations.”

Coby's interest deepened. What connection did this couple have with the pendant? His mind raced with possibilities—were Mae Yore and Lord Frederick the owners of the pendant, or did they have a connection to the lighthouse?

Unable to contain his curiosity, Coby turned back to the hostess. "Tell me more about Mae Yore and Lord Frederick Hart," he urged.

The hostess smiled, clearly enjoying being the bearer of tales. "Madame Mae Yore was known for her lavish lifestyle and philanthropic endeavours. She was a patron of the arts, supporting many talented artists and musicians. Her parties were legendary, filled with influential figures from all walks of life. Lord Frederick Hart was often by her side, known for his enigmatic charm and vast influence. He was a man of many interests, often involved in secretive and lucrative ventures."

Coby's mind raced. If Mae Yore and Lord Frederick had such prominence, they might have connections to the lighthouse and its mysterious logbook. Perhaps they held the key to its secrets.

Lost in thought, Coby barely noticed the hostess bid them farewell. He turned to Gracie, excitement shining in his eyes.

"Gracie, I think Mae Yore and Lord Frederick might hold the answers I've been searching for. Their connection to the pendant and their prominence in society… it can't be a mere coincidence. I need to find out more about them."

Gracie nodded, her own curiosity piqued. "I agree. Let's dig deeper into their lives and see if we can uncover any clues that may lead us to the truth."

As they left the dining area, their minds filled with questions and possibilities, Coby and Gracie felt a renewed sense of purpose. The enigmatic figures in the portrait and the allure of the diamond pendant had set them on a path to unravel the mysteries of the lighthouse, potentially changing their lives forever.

❖

With Struan peacefully sleeping in Gracie’s arms, Coby slipped out, his eagerness to uncover the enigmatic secrets of Mae Yore and her inexplicable connection to the mystical lighthouse growing stronger. Outside, the storm continued to rage, the sound of thunder shaking the windows of the haunting Hotel Luminara.

As Coby ventured into the storm, rain pounded against his face, stinging like icy daggers. Lightning cracked the sky, illuminating the path ahead in eerie flashes. The wind howled, whipping his hair into a frenzy, as if whispering ancient warnings. Undeterred, Coby pressed on, his heart racing with anticipation. Each step brought him closer to the enigma that was Mae Yore and the mysterious lighthouse that stood as a beacon of secrets. He knew he was on the verge of discovering something extraordinary.

Through the torrential downpour, he reached the edge of the cliff, where the lighthouse loomed like a sentinel of the unknown. Its light flickered, casting eerie shadows on the jagged rocks below. Coby's pulse quickened, echoing the rhythm of the storm. With determined grit, he climbed the treacherous path, rain-soaked hands gripping onto moss-covered stones for dear life. The wind tugged at his clothes, as if trying to hurl him into the abyss, but he clung on, driven by a relentless hunger for answers.

Finally, he reached the lighthouse’s entrance, its heavy door creaking open with a haunting groan. Inside, the air was thick with anticipation, as if the walls themselves held their breath. The scent of damp wood and salt clung to the air, mingling with an elusive fragrance—a hint of ancient incense, perhaps, or the lingering perfume of a long-lost keeper. Coby’s flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing a spiral staircase that seemed to stretch into infinity. The steps were worn, their edges softened by countless footsteps over the years. As he ascended, the wooden boards groaned, as though voicing their own secrets. Shadows danced along the walls, flickering like restless spirits.

Step by cautious step, he climbed, the sound of his own heartbeat echoing through the hollow tower. The walls bore scars—deep gouges and faded symbols etched by hands long gone. Cobwebs clung to the corners, their delicate threads trembling as if disturbed by unseen visitors. At the top, Coby found himself in a chamber bathed in an ethereal glow. Dust particles danced in the beam of his flashlight, painting the air with a sense of otherworldly magic. The dimly lit room exuded an eerie ambiance, holding remnants of long-forgotten rituals. A rusted lantern, its glass cracked and tarnished, emitted a faint, flickering light. A weathered journal, its pages yellowed and brittle, lay open on a dusty table, the weight of untold secrets palpable in the air. On the windowsill, a single feather delicately perched, its silky texture inviting touch, as if yearning for a gentle breeze that would never grace the desolate space.

And there, in the centre of it all, stood the lighthouse’s lantern—a beacon that had guided ships and souls alike. Its glass was clouded, as though veiled by time itself. Coby wondered if it still held the echoes of desperate pleas, whispered prayers, and the haunting cries of those who had vanished without a trace. With each step into the chamber, Coby's heart pounded harder, a mix of fear and exhilaration propelling him forward. What if the secrets he sought were more terrible than he imagined?

The ethereal glow intensified, revealing faded symbols etched into the walls—symbols that seemed to shift and writhe as if alive. The lantern’s inviting warmth called out to him, its soft swoosh reminiscent of a cherished moment. When he touched its glass, he glimpsed fractured images: a keeper’s desperate plea, a phantom ship lost in the fog, and the haunting echo of a name—Mae Yore.

But it wasn’t just memories that lingered there. Shadows converged, coalescing into spectral forms—the vanished keepers themselves. Their eyes, hollow and accusing, followed Coby’s every move. They whispered disjointed phrases, half-forgotten warnings, and cryptic riddles. One keeper, with salt-crusted hair and sea-green eyes, beckoned him toward the window. There, through the rain-streaked glass, Coby glimpsed a shipwreck—a vessel that had vanished without a trace, its crew forever entwined with the lighthouse’s fate.

Amidst the dark sky, bolts of lightning danced and crackled, causing the lighthouse to shudder with the booming thunder. Coby felt a surge of adrenaline course through his veins as the journal's pages fluttered in response to the lightning's powerful display. The palpable tension in the air heightened, causing his heart to race and his breath to quicken. The room seemed to vibrate with a strange energy, as if the emotions of the keepers and the forces of nature were converging into a single, electrifying entity.

As the apparitions of the keepers scurried about, their movements were accompanied by a chilling gust of wind that swept through the chamber. It carried with it a haunting melody, whispers of the past that echoed through the room, intertwining with the crackling of lightning and the booming thunder outside. The ethereal beings appeared to waver in and out of existence, their translucent forms flickering with the intensity of the storm.

The lighthouse itself trembled under the weight of the converging energies, its very foundation seeming to groan in protest. As if struggling to contain the immense power that lingered within, the glass of the lantern quivered. The veiled surface appeared to pulse, as if the memories and emotions trapped within were yearning to break free.

Coby's hand, still pressed against the glass, trembled in response to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. He could feel the weight of the keepers' accusing gazes upon him, their presence pressing against his skin like a cold, damp mist. The disjointed phrases and cryptic riddles whispered in his ears, their meaning just beyond his grasp, adding to the unease that had settled deep within his bones.

Amid this mesmerising dance between the natural and supernatural, Coby couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and trepidation. It was as if he had stepped into a realm where the boundaries between the physical and ethereal, the past and present, were blurred. The lighthouse, once a guiding beacon, now appeared to be a vessel of secrets and mysteries, its very essence intertwined with the shipwrecked souls and the enigma of Mae Yore.

As the storm raged on, the room grew increasingly chaotic, the lightning flashes illuminating the symbols etched into the walls with an eerie glow. Coby knew he was on the precipice of uncovering the truth, of unraveling the enigma that had haunted the lighthouse for years. With a mix of determination and trepidation, he braced himself for what lay ahead, ready to delve deeper into the labyrinth of memories and echoes that the lighthouse held within.

As Coby perused the aged journal, the musty scent of ancient ink wafted through the air, instantly whisking him away to another era. In the pages, he discovered the enduring presence of Mae Yore and her husband, Lord Frederick Hart, who were frequent visitors to the island. Their unwavering support for the lighthouse was clear through their generous donations.

The journal’s latest entry, dated December 26th, 1900, described in vivid detail the daunting voyage they intended to undertake on the treacherous sea, aboard a ship known as “The Requiem Maiden.” Coby’s hands trembled with excitement. He dashed down the spiral staircase and snatched the old leather ledger from the dusty desk. With his eyes glued to the pages, he rifled through until he reached the date, December 26th, 1900.

His excitement faltered when he discovered there were no entries for the specific date. He flipped back and forth, searching for the date, and then he discovered that the specific page had been torn out of the ledger. As lightning crackled outside, illuminating the room, the dancing shadows flickered against the walls. The thunderous rumbles that followed reverberated through Coby’s ears, filling the air with a sense of impending power. From upstairs in the chamber, a resounding thud boomed, causing Coby to flinch in fear of the roof collapsing and crushing him.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Coby turned his attention back to the journal. There was something about the missing page, something that felt deliberately hidden. He noticed faint traces of ink on the edges where the page had been torn, suggesting a hurried removal. Who had taken it, and why?

❖

Coby's heart raced as he hurried back up the spiral staircase, his mind filled with a mixture of fear and curiosity. As he reached the upper chamber, his eyes widened in astonishment. There was a transformation in the room. The walls, once adorned with symbols, now seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly energy. The air crackled with electricity, and the scent of ancient secrets hung heavy.

In the centre of the room, a hidden door stood ajar. Coby cautiously approached, his trembling hand reaching out to push it open further. As he stepped through, he found himself in a hidden passageway, dimly lit by flickering candlelight. The passageway seemed to stretch endlessly, its walls adorned with faded portraits and dusty artifacts. Coby's footsteps echoed in the silence, each sound magnified by the weight of the unknown. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, that unseen eyes followed his every move.

As he ventured deeper into the labyrinthine passage, the air grew colder, and whispers filled his ears. The voices were faint, their words indiscernible, but their presence sent shivers down his spine. He pressed on, determined to uncover the truth that lay hidden within the depths of the lighthouse.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Coby reached a chamber bathed in an ethereal glow. A glowing lantern, perched on a pedestal, cast a soft, rhythmic pulsation of light. It seemed to beckon him closer, its energy drawing him in. The golden glow of the lantern captivated his eyes, and with each pulse, his mind was flooded with vibrant images. He saw the voyage of the Requiem Maiden, the stormy seas, and the haunting melody that filled the air. It was as if he had become one with the past, experiencing the journey of Mae Yore and Lord Frederick Hart firsthand.

Coby could almost taste the salt in the air as he witnessed the crashing waves and felt the spray on his face. The sound of thunder echoed in his ears, mingling with the haunting melody that seemed to emanate from the lantern itself. He could almost hear the creaking of the ship's timbers and the howling wind that whipped through the sails. As the pulsating light of the lantern continued to fill his mind, Coby saw the ghostly figures of the keepers and Frederick Hart, their forms translucent yet filled with an undeniable intensity. Their longing permeated the air, wrapping around him like a warm embrace.

The chamber itself pulsed with history, its walls telling stories through faded tapestries of a forgotten treasure and a faraway land. Dust particles danced in the golden light, creating a mesmerising spectacle. Coby felt a surge of reverence for the secrets that lay hidden within these walls, a profound connection to something greater than himself. But amidst the awe-inspiring beauty, a sense of danger lurked. Shadows flickered in the corners, whispering secrets that sent chills down his spine. The air grew heavy with anticipation, as if the very atmosphere held its breath, waiting for Coby to unravel the mysteries that had been locked away for centuries.

With each pulse of the lantern, the images grew more vivid, the emotions more palpable. Coby felt a surge of determination coursing through his veins, a burning desire to uncover the truth and to honour the legacy of Mae Yore and Lord Frederick Hart. In that moment, standing in the ethereal glow of the lantern, Coby knew he had embarked on a journey that would forever change his life. The past and present intertwined, and he became a vessel for the stories of those who came before him. With renewed purpose, he took a step forward, ready to embrace the unknown and to unlock the secrets of the lighthouse's hidden depths.

The haunting whispers gradually ceased as he navigated his way back through the passageway, and the dancing shadows slowly dissipated. Yet, something gnawed at him like a persistent bug, constantly pushing at his thoughts. As he stood before the large lighthouse window, the sight of the island stretched out before him in all its beauty. While the storm was slowly fading away, his attention was drawn to a house perched on a hill, its lights resembling a fading memory.

Coby was hit by a sudden realisation that struck him like a bolt of lightning. As he envisioned the treacherous voyage, he could see the ethereal forms of the keepers and Frederick Hart, their translucent figures shimmering in his mind. But there was a conspicuous absence—where was Mae Yore’s ghost? He could vividly recall the sight of the ships’ floating planks, swaying and bending with the tumultuous waves, resembling the aftermath of a devastating shipwreck. The scene was accompanied by the deafening roar of the stormy seas, the briny scent of saltwater filling his nostrils, and a sense of unease creeping over him.

Questions swirled in his mind, each one more pressing than the last. What had become of Mae Yore during that fateful voyage? And why did her ghost remain elusive, while others lingered within the lighthouse's walls? Determined to find answers, Coby knew that his journey was far from over. The secrets of the lighthouse and the mystery of Mae Yore awaited him, hidden within the echoes of time.

And then, on the windowsill, Coby saw the silky feather—a delicate reminder of Mae Yore’s presence. It pulsed with energy, a conduit between realms. When he touched it, he glimpsed the storm’s eye—a swirling vortex where past and present collided. Coby realised that Mae Yore’s fate was now intertwined with his own. To unravel the lighthouse’s secrets, he had to embrace its eerie magic, confront the keepers’ restless spirits, and decipher the feather’s purpose.

As the storm raged outside, Coby stood at the precipice of revelation. The lighthouse awaited—a beacon of both illumination and obscurity. Would he emerge unscathed, or would he become another chapter in its enigmatic history?

Only the lighthouse knew, and it guarded its secrets well.

Ryder Blackwood seethed with anger. He had been stranded in the bustling port of Lochlan’s Cove for two agonizing days, trapped by the unrelenting storm. The thick accents and overly friendly demeanour of the locals only fuelled his frustration. And to add insult to injury, Reed Winslow’s incessant phone calls for updates pushed him over the edge.

From the highest cliff, Ryder marvelled at the panoramic view of the bustling port below and inserted another coin into the telescope’s slot machine. Through the viewfinder, his eyes locked onto the majestic lighthouse standing proudly on the distant Tempest Island, also known as Eilean Tùrnan.

The relentless rain drenched everything in sight, and he couldn’t help but notice a man trudging back to the hotel with his shoulders slumped. Earlier, Ryder had caught a glimpse of him at the lighthouse, his determined hazel eyes leaving an impression. There was something about him, an undeniable aura that captivated Ryder’s attention. Tousled dark hair adorned his head with hints of silver at his temples.

The man intrigued Ryder. He had a distinct familiarity, as if Ryder had encountered him before, perhaps famous for his artistic endeavours. Not the kind of fame associated with movie stars or rock band lead singers, but more like that of a writer. A sudden realisation struck Ryder, and he quickly reached into his faded jeans’ back pocket, retrieving a photograph of his target, Coby McTavish.

Ryder’s heart raced with excitement as he discovered the man on the island perfectly resembled the person in the photograph. Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, Ryder decided to investigate further. He hastily put away the photograph and made his way down from the cliff, determined to find out more about this mysterious man named Coby McTavish.

As he approached the port, Ryder's mind raced with questions. What was Coby’s connection to the lighthouse? And most importantly, why did Ryder feel such a strong pull towards him?

The low, mournful sound of a foghorn abruptly broke through his train of thought, its echoing call reverberating through the air. Startled, he turned his gaze towards the harbour, where a mighty vessel, the Storm’s Herald, came into view, its hulking form slicing through the mist. The briny scent of the sea mingled with the dampness of the fog, filling his nostrils. A surge of determination coursed through Ryder as he vividly remembered the snippets of conversations he had overheard from the locals, affirming that this was indeed the very boat that ferried passengers to and from the enigmatic Tempest Island.

Ryder's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the Storm's Herald dock at the bustling port. He couldn't help but wonder if Coby McTavish, the man who resembled the photograph, had any connection to the mysterious Tempest Island. The island's reputation for holding secrets and stories intrigued Ryder, fuelling his determination to uncover the truth.

With a sense of purpose, Ryder made his way towards the dock, his steps quickening with each passing moment. As he approached the Storm's Herald, he noticed the crew bustling about, preparing for the upcoming voyage. Determined to find answers, he mustered the courage to approach one of the crew members.

"Excuse me," Ryder called out, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the bustling port. The crew member turned towards him, a curious look on his face. "I'm looking for someone named Coby McTavish. Do you know if he's on board?"

The crew member raised an eyebrow, studying Ryder for a moment before responding. "Aye, Coby McTavish was indeed on board. He's been a passenger on our last voyage to Tempest Island. May I ask why you're looking for him?"

Ryder hesitated for a moment, careful not to startle the man. "I have a... personal matter to discuss with him. It's important that I find him."

The crew member nodded understandingly. "I see. Well, you're in luck. We're about to depart for Tempest Island shortly. If you hurry, you might just catch him."

Grateful for the opportunity, Ryder quickly expressed his thanks to the crew member and rushed to his cramped hotel room to retrieve his cherished belongings. With each step onto the gangplank, he could feel the sturdy yet rhythmic sway of the Storm’s Herald beneath his feet. As he set foot on the ship’s deck, a rush of anticipation and unease washed over him. The journey to Tempest Island was filled with anticipation, fuelled by the promise of slaying Coby McTavish and collecting a generous payment from the relentless Reed Winslow.

As the ship set sail, Ryder gazed out at the vast expanse of the sea, lost in thought. The rhythmic motion of the waves and the salty breeze on his face only heightened his anticipation. He knew that once he reached Tempest Island, he would need to navigate the island's mysteries and uncover the connection between Coby McTavish, the lighthouse, and the pull he felt towards him.

With each passing moment, Ryder's determination grew stronger. Filled with resolve, he was prepared to tackle the forthcoming challenges, unravel the secrets of Tempest Island, and confront Coby McTavish head-on. The journey had just begun, and Ryder was prepared to follow it through to the end, no matter the cost.

Chapter Seven

As the storm gradually subsided, Coby was overwhelmed by a profound sense of helplessness. The island stood isolated, completely cut off from the mainland. No one could arrive or depart. The absence of the internet, dead phone lines, and no mobile signal intensified his frustration. He had to rely solely on his own abilities to uncover the information he sought. Yet, he yearned for an internet connection, longing to delve deeper into the diamond pendant he had spotted hanging from Mae Yore’s neck in the monochrome photograph.

With nothing to occupy his time, Coby’s mind buzzed with a flurry of thoughts. Suddenly, a surge of inspiration crashed over him like a massive tidal wave. He could arrange an engagement celebration for Gracie right here in their newly acquired hotel. Amidst the tranquil ambiance, he would profess his love and ask her to be his wife.

Excitement coursed through Coby’s veins as he envisioned the perfect celebration. The secluded island, with its untouched beauty, would provide the ideal backdrop. Filled with a whirlwind of ideas, he started meticulously planning every aspect.

First, he would transform one of the hotel’s ballrooms into a romantic haven. Soft candlelight would flicker, casting a warm glow on the room adorned with delicate flowers and twinkling fairy lights. The sound of gentle waves crashing against the shore would create a soothing melody in the background.

Coby knew he needed help to make this celebration truly memorable. The gentle rustle of the hotel staff’s footsteps filled the air as they eagerly joined in the preparations. Men jumped in to help carry heavier items, their muscles straining with effort as they eagerly offered their assistance.

Coby’s infectious enthusiasm inspired them all. He handed out crisp notes for every completed task, and they happily crumpled the money and shoved it into their pockets. In minutes, the ballroom came alive with vibrant decorations and a lively, celebratory ambiance. All along, Gracie remained blissfully unaware, which made Coby’s heart swell with happiness.

Curious about music, Coby sought recommendations from others. One staff member, Bethany, with fiery red hair and freckles, was a renowned singer. “Bethany,” everyone chanted repeatedly, excitement evident in their voices. Her face flushed crimson as they pointed at her.

Staff members eagerly built a makeshift stage for Bethany. Her friend, with a twinkle in his eye, grabbed her hand and led her up onto the stage. Their friends hurried in, placing a fiddle in Bethany’s hand and a bagpipe in her friend’s. Their performance was enchanting, sending shivers down Coby’s spine.

As day gave way to dusk, the setting sun painted the sky in mesmerising pink and orange hues. The scent of damp earth and fresh rain added to the enchantment. It was the perfect time to ask someone for their hand in marriage. The elegant dining room hostess and her male counterpart deviated from their usual duties, curiosity overcoming them.

“Bravo!” the hostess exclaimed, her voice filled with awe, as they waltzed into the transformed ballroom. The sound of their footsteps melded with the joyful hum of conversation, creating a symphony of excitement.

“Welcome,” Coby greeted excitedly, his anticipation evident. The rich scent of freshly polished wood and the soft glow of crystal chandeliers enveloped the space. “Please ensure every guest has a seat for tonight. We will dine here.”

“Oui, Monsieur McTavish,” the hostess replied melodically. “I will coordinate with the chef.”

“Thank you,” Coby said, gratitude in his voice, as he made his way through the elegant corridors. He had to distract Gracie and retrieve the diamond ring without her noticing. Each step felt like fortune was smiling upon him.

Gracie’s delightful coos and animated chatter echoed through their luxurious hotel room. Engaged in conversation with a younger woman, she joyfully shared details about their newborn son, Struan. The sweet scent of baby powder lingered in the air, adding to the warmth of the moment. Struan’s baby babble filled the room, a delightful melody suggesting he knew they were talking about him.

❖

Coby couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his son’s babbling. It was a reminder of the beautiful life they had built together. As Gracie continued to chat happily, Coby discreetly slipped into their dimly lit, lavender-scented bedroom and retrieved the smooth velvet ring box from his softly creaking bedside drawer. He delicately opened the box, revealing a mesmerising shimmering blue diamond that caught the light, causing it to dance and twinkle. A surge of excitement filled him as he admired its beauty. Anticipating Gracie’s joyful response, he silently closed the box and carefully slipped it into his trouser pocket.

“Where are you going?” Gracie asked as he stealthily made his way towards the door. He paused and slowly turned, his face composed into a stoic expression.

“We will be dining in the grand ballroom tonight,” he replied, choosing his words carefully, “please join me when you’re ready. I have reserved a place for us.”

Gracie fixed him with a penetrating gaze, her eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. He knew that look all too well, realising that she was onto him. Before his cheeks could betray him with a blush, he hurriedly made his way out and headed back to the lively ballroom.

As he settled into a plush, cushioned chair at their elegantly set table, a server approached with a bottle of chilled champagne nestled in a gleaming ice bucket, droplets of condensation glistening on its surface. A tumbler, impeccably clean, held a neat double scotch, its amber colour reflecting the soft glow of the room. While Coby waited for Gracie, he took a small sip of the smooth whisky, feeling its warmth spread through his body, and meticulously arranged everything on the table. As if anticipating his thoughts, a server gracefully placed a bouquet of vibrant red roses in the centre of their table.

As Gracie made her entrance into the bustling ballroom, pushing Struan’s pram, a sudden hush fell over the crowd. It felt as if everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed on her, awaiting her reaction. As the spotlight illuminated the stage, Bethany and her male companion stepped forward, ready to captivate the audience with their well-rehearsed routine.

Coby rose to his feet, his knees trembling ever so slightly, and pulled out Gracie’s chair. Bethany began to play a hauntingly beautiful melody, each note resonating throughout the room, while her friend’s bagpipe added a touch of enchantment to the atmosphere. Together, they flawlessly performed a perfect rendition of “My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose” by Robert Burns, their music filling the space with emotion.

Coby could feel the warmth of tears welling up in his eyes, a mixture of nerves and overwhelming love consuming him. He skilfully popped the champagne bottle, the sound of the cork popping echoing in the room, and poured the effervescent liquid into their crystal glasses. As Gracie settled into her chair, he dropped to one knee, his heart pounding in sync with the gentle waves crashing outside. He gazed up at Gracie, her eyes widening with a beautiful blend of surprise and pure joy, a moment etched in time.

“Gracie,” he began, his voice filled with emotion, “from the moment I met you, my life has been filled with love and happiness. Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

With a flourish, he produced the velvety ring box and unveiled a breathtaking diamond ring that sparkled brilliantly. For a heartbeat, time stood still. Then, as Gracie’s tearful “yes” echoed through the room, the onlookers erupted in thunderous lauds. Their cheers and applause filled the air, a symphony of joy and celebration. The young lovebirds among them exchanged awestruck glances, inspired by the profound love they had just witnessed.

Bethany’s enchanting voice rose above the jubilant crowd, singing a melody that seemed to touch the very soul. The room shimmered with the light of a hundred candles, reflecting the pure, unbridled happiness that enveloped everyone present. It was a moment of pure magic, a testament to the power of love.

In that moment, Coby realised that, even in the face of adversity and isolation, love had the power to transcend all boundaries. And as they celebrated their engagement on the island, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the warmth of their loved ones, he knew that this would forever be a cherished memory in their hearts.

As the Storm’s Herald approached the shores of Tempest Island, the mist thickened, enveloping Ryder Blackwood’s view of the island in a shroud of obscurity. The captain skilfully maneuvered through treacherous waters, the waves crashing against the ship’s hull, sending sprays of salty water into the air. Piercing through the gloom, the beam from the old lighthouse sliced through the mist intermittently, casting an eerie glow over the turbulent sea. Its rhythmic sweep served as both a guide and a harbinger, a warning of the perilous rocks that lay just beneath the surface.

The air was pregnant with anticipation as Ryder braced himself for the opportunity that lay ahead. He envisioned the twisted grin that would spread across his face as he aimed the gun between Coby’s eyes, the anticipation of terror fuelling his every move. The taste of adrenaline danced on his tongue.

Stepping off the boat onto the rocky shore, an eerie silence welcomed him, accompanied only by the distant cry of seagulls, their haunting calls reverberating through the desolate landscape. The scent of saltwater and damp earth filled his nostrils, mingling with the faint aroma of decaying leaves. As he ventured further inland, the lighthouse beam continued to cut through the mist behind him, a silent sentinel observing his every step.

Ancient trees, with gnarled branches whispering ancient secrets, stood watchful as he passed. The touch of the damp moss-covered bark beneath his fingertips sent a shiver down his spine. The branches danced and whispered as the gentle breeze passed through, carrying its secrets.

Leading him deeper into the heart of the island, the path ahead narrowed. The mist clung to his clothes, dampening his spirits but not his determination. Ryder pressed forward, his senses heightened, seeking answers within the concealed recesses of the island. The sound of his footsteps echoed through the stillness, each crunch of gravel resonating in his ears.

Suddenly, a faint glimmer caught his attention. Following the ethereal light, his heart raced with anticipation as he stumbled upon a clearing where the majestic Hotel Luminara stood tall, its grandeur illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns. The lighthouse beam now seemed to frame the hotel in its periodic gaze, adding to its mystique. The sight of the elegant architecture made his breath catch in his throat.

In the distance, the sound of a fiddle and a bagpipe playing a joyful melody reached his ears, their vibrant tunes filling the air with infectious energy. The music beckoned him, guiding his footsteps with a rhythm that quickened his pulse. He aimed for the melodic sounds, picking up his pace, his heart racing with excitement, his whole being consumed by the allure of what awaited him.

The joyful music, a harmonious symphony, echoed through the mist, beckoning Ryder towards the grand entrance of the hotel. His senses sharpened, he followed the enchanting melody, drawn in by its captivating allure. The misty air swirled around him, teasing his skin with a cool caress. As he stepped into the dimly lit corridor, the tantalising aroma of delectable cuisine hung in the air, mingling with his anticipation, causing his tastebuds to tingle with excitement.

Yet, amidst the anticipation, a dangerous itch crept into his fingertips, aching to pull out his concealed gun and carry out his deadly mission. With each step, the music grew louder, intensifying the urgency in his veins. As he turned a corner, a wide door suddenly appeared on his right, opening up to a bustling world filled with lively conversations and the constant clattering of silverware.

He slowed his pace, his eyes fixated on the open door. Peering into the ballroom, his gaze scanned the bustling crowd, searching for his target. The symphony of voices and laughter swirled around him, blending with the melodic notes that continued to fill the space. As he prepared to reveal his weapon, a server swiftly passed by, the clinking of glasses and the tantalising aroma of the dishes filling the air, momentarily delaying his action.

In the midst of the bustling crowd, his gaze settled on a table adorned with colourful balloons and festive streamers, a joyful tribute to the love between two people. A surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins as he recognised Coby, his mark, seated at the table. Beside him sat a woman of captivating beauty, her raven hair cascading down her back, her emerald eyes shimmering with delight. A stud of a diamond adorned her ring finger, glowing as she flashed her radiant smile.

A sense of joy and contentment emanated from the couple, amplified by the presence of a pram nearby, cradling a peacefully slumbering baby. On a stage nearby, a young woman and man harmoniously sang a heart-wrenching melody, their voices intertwining with the clinks of cutlery and the murmurs of satisfied diners. The atmosphere was electrified, with everyone engrossed in their meals, the music, or the celebration of the newly engaged couple.

With a cautious glance over his shoulder, Ryder skilfully retrieved his high-tech gun, its sleek design fitting snugly in his grip. His laser-focused gaze honed in on Coby’s forehead, the trigger within reach. But just as his finger curled around the trigger, his phone erupted into a shrill ring, jolting him from his deadly trance. Startled, he swiftly concealed the weapon and retrieved his phone, bringing it to his ear, momentarily diverting his attention from the impending assassination.

Chapter Eight

All passengers eagerly disembarked from the Storm’s Herald as it docked in the picturesque harbour of Lochlan’s Cove, taking in the stunning views. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of saltwater and freshly caught fish. Seagulls soared overhead, their cries mingling with the gentle lapping of waves against the dock. Gracie’s heart swelled with excitement as she took in the colourful fishing boats bobbing in the harbour, their hulls reflecting the golden rays of the setting sun. Struan, nestled in her arms, let out a contented sigh, his tiny fingers reaching out to touch the soft sea breeze. Coby’s grip tightened on the suitcase, a mix of determination and hope etched on his face. Lochlan’s Cove beckoned with the allure of a peaceful sanctuary, and they eagerly welcomed its embrace.

“We’re seeing all sorts of visitors,” the landlady exclaimed as Coby paid the fee for their room at the quaint inn. Gracie snatched the key from the counter, the metal clinking against her fingers. They trudged up the narrow, creaking staircase, the sound echoing through the dimly lit hallway. Finally, they found refuge in their small bedroom, the scent of lavender lingering in the air. With a panoramic view of the harbour, the room beckoned with an allure, the shimmering blue waters reflecting the golden rays of the setting sun.

While Gracie fell onto the plush bed, the softness enveloping her tired body, Coby opened the heavy curtains and took in the breathtaking views. The distant seagulls’ cries filled the air, blending with the gentle lapping of waves against the dock.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, her voice laced with concern, worry evident in her furrowed brow.

“I have to go back to the island,” Coby said cautiously, his voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

“Have you completely lost your marbles?” Gracie exclaimed, her voice tinged with a mix of fear and frustration, her eyes widening in disbelief. “That man with the funny eyes will kill you once you set foot on the island.”

“Not if my plan works,” Coby explained, his voice filled with determination, quiet resolve clear in his eyes.

Gracie gasped theatrically, her breath catching in her throat. “There is no way I am going back,” she snapped, her voice sharp with defiance. “I will not put our newborn son’s life at risk.”

Coby headed to the sideboard and poured himself a neat whisky, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light. He took a long, contemplative sip, the warmth spreading through his body. “You can take the car back to Serpent’s Manor when you’re ready. I have to go back.”

“Fine!” Gracie barked, burying her face in the soft pillow, her muffled words barely audible. Coby sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked her back, his comforting touch soothing her troubled mind.

“Please understand,” Coby said, his voice as gentle as a summer breeze, the words caressing her ears, “writing stories is what I do. And this is important to me—to us.”

Gracie laughed softly and turned onto her back, revealing a set of pristine teeth, the sparkle in her eyes reflecting her love for him. She placed her hands on Coby’s shoulders and pulled him into a warm embrace; the warmth radiating between their bodies.

“My adventurer,” she whispered into his ear, her voice oozing with seduction, her warm breath sending shivers down his spine. With a mischievous smile, she gently nibbled his earlobe, making him shudder with delight, the electrifying sensation igniting their passion.

As their bodies pressed against each other, a surge of desire coursed through Coby’s veins, his heart pounding in his chest. The weight of their shared emotions—concern and worry—transformed into a potent cocktail of longing and anticipation. The tension in the room seemed to dissolve, replaced by an electrifying energy that crackled in the air.

Their lips met in a gentle collision of warmth and tenderness. Each kiss deepened, fueled by the intensity of their emotions, their tongues dancing in a passionate rhythm. Coby’s hands explored the contours of Gracie’s body, tracing the curves he knew so well, his touch igniting a fire within them both.

Their bodies writhed on the bed, moving with a fluidity and urgency that spoke of their love and desire. The weight of their worries melted away, replaced by a raw, primal need that consumed them both. Their breaths became ragged, mingling with soft moans and whispered words of love.

In this moment, the outside world ceased to exist. All that mattered was the connection they shared, the overwhelming force of their emotions intertwining with their physical desires. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, each touch and caress a testament to their love and longing.

Time seemed to stand still as their passion intensified. The room filled with their gasps and sighs, their bodies moving in a symphony of pleasure. They surrendered to the intoxicating pull of their desires, lost in the depths of their shared connection.

In that embrace, they found solace and strength. It was a reminder that love could conquer any fear or obstacle that lay before them. As they clung to each other, their bodies trembling with ecstasy, they knew that together, they could face anything that awaited them, united by their unwavering love and the fire that burned between them.

❖

The setting sun cast a warm, golden hue, painting a breathtaking picture over the picturesque harbour. Gracie, enveloped by the allure of a deep sleep after their intimate moment, succumbed to its tranquillity. Meanwhile, Coby stealthily slipped out of their room, his footsteps barely audible on the carpeted corridor adorned with peeling ornate wallpaper. The animated chatter and the melodic clinking of glasses emanating from the cosy pub enticed him further.

As he settled onto a hard wooden barstool, he could feel its rough texture against his palms. He ordered a neat double scotch, the rich aroma wafting up to his nose, accompanied by the tantalising scent of freshly fried fish and chips. Anticipating Gracie’s hunger upon awakening, he decided to get two takeout portions.

“Say,” the barkeep exclaimed, his voice slightly slurred, “you’re that famous writer fella, Coby Mac… Mac…” Struggling to recall, he wore a friendly expression with his heavy, bearded face and kind, hazel eyes, instantly likable.

“McTavish,” Coby interjected, raising his glass in a toast.

“Aye!” the barkeep exclaimed with a hiccup. “There’s this American blighter who came by, asking me all sorts of funny questions about you.”

Coby’s heart skipped a beat, but he managed to conceal his surprise. “Let me guess,” he said, a hint of curiosity in his voice, “one blue eye and one green eye.”

“Aye,” the barkeep chuckled, clinking his beer glass against Coby’s, causing a few droplets of beer to spill. “The eejit made me feel a bit uneasy. He’s a real chatterbox.”

“Cheers,” Coby replied, raising his glass in acknowledgement, the sound of their clinking glasses resonating in the air.

❖

Coby took a sip of his scotch, savouring the smooth warmth that spread through him. He couldn’t help but wonder what specific questions the American had about him. Curiosity piqued, he leaned closer to the barkeep.

“What kind of questions did this American blighter ask?” Coby inquired, his voice laced with intrigue.

The barkeep scratched his bushy beard thoughtfully. “Well, he was asking about your whereabouts, your writing process, and even your inspirations. Seemed mighty interested in your personal life, if you ask me.”

Coby’s mind raced with possibilities. Who was this stranger, and what did he want with him? He couldn’t shake off the uneasiness that crept up his spine. After personally meeting him on the island, he could sense the guy’s intense desire to kill him. However, the reason remained a mystery.

As he pondered, the barkeep poured himself another pint of beer. “You be careful, Coby,” he warned, his tone genuine. “There’s something off about that fella. Gave me the creeps, he did.”

Coby nodded, acknowledging the barkeep’s concern. This encounter felt like more than just an obsessed fan. Filled with a desperate longing for his plan to succeed, he yearned to avoid another run-in at all costs.

“If you run into him, let him know I took off,” Coby said, his eyes pleading with urgency.

The barkeep nodded, his eyes filled with understanding, and efficiently served the line of impatient patrons. Finishing his scotch, Coby paid the barkeep and grabbed the two takeout portions of fish and chips. Filled with urgency, he quickly made his way back to his room, excited to wake Gracie up and indulge in their dinner.

As he walked down the dimly lit corridor, the peeling wallpaper seemed to whisper secrets, adding to the air of mystery. Coby’s mind raced with questions, but one thing was clear – he needed to protect Gracie and find out the truth about the stranger with the mismatched eyes.

Little did he know, this encounter would unravel a web of secrets and challenges that would test his courage and push his writing skills to the limit. The setting sun may have painted a picturesque scene, but beneath the tranquil surface, a storm was brewing, and Coby was about to find himself in the eye of it.

As he wearily trudged up the creaking wooden stairs, an elegant apparition of a young woman materialised before him, her form draped in a faded black lace gown. The air around him instantly turned frigid, causing goosebumps to prick his skin. With ethereal grace, she glided towards him, her translucent form illuminated by a faint glow, the tattered hem of her dress trailing behind like lost whispers of her past.

Coby, shoulders slumping, resisted the urge to engage with the ghostly figure and continued walking straight ahead. As he passed through her, a crackling sensation filled the air, like static electricity dancing on his skin, and the simple pendant around her neck seemed to pulse with a life of its own.

“Stop,” she whispered, her voice a haunting hiss that sent a chilling shiver down his spine. Her pale face, a canvas of bygone beauty now reduced to varying shades of grey, seemed to plead for attention. Coby spun around, his eyes filled with frustration and determination, staring daggers at the spectral figure.

“Listen!” he barked, causing her to let out a menacing hiss in response. “I don’t have time for this. Today, a badass shot at me. I had to leap off a towering building. My heart was pounding. Then I sprinted through a damp forest, mist clinging to my clothes. My wife and child beside me. All the while, a heavy suitcase was digging into my shoulder. Go pester someone else. I'm not scared of you.”

The ethereal figure’s eyes flickered, glowing like smouldering embers. She bared her teeth in a decaying grin, the elegant Gibson Girl updo holding the shadows, giving her an air of an ethereal being caught between worlds. Her grin released a putrid stench that assaulted Coby’s senses. His nostrils flared as he recoiled slightly.

“Whatever,” Coby said dismissively, waving her off with a nonchalant flick of his hand, his stomach rumbling audibly with hunger. Suddenly, an ear-piercing shriek shattered the silence, causing him to flinch.

A gust of wind swept through the corridor, ruffling his hair. Summoning his courage, he dared to steal a quick glance over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the ghostly figure fading into the shroud of shadows. Feeling a sense of victory, he confidently walked into their bedroom, the anticipation of a satisfying meal growing stronger.

Gracie asked, her voice filled with curiosity, “Who were you talking to?” as Coby walked into the room. As she stretched her arms, the satisfying sound of her popping bones echoed through the air.

“A persistent ghost,” Coby replied, shrugging his shoulders with a sheepish smile.

“Oh no,” Gracie said, her yawn joining the chorus, “are they already on you?”

“Aye,” Coby chuckled, handing her a fish parcel, “they are drawn to me like maggots to decay.”

Gracie’s laughter filled the air, accompanied by the delightful babble of Struan’s baby talk. She eagerly grabbed a handful of fried chips, and the crunch echoed in the room. “Why do you think that is?” she asked, her words muffled by a mouthful of food, as she licked her fingers. The scent of salt and vinegar mingled in the air, assaulting their senses.

Coby nonchalantly shrugged, though a flicker of unease crossed his face. He took a bite of his fried fish, savouring the delicate flavours.

“Maybe,” Gracie mused, chewing thoughtfully, her finger playfully tracing over his heart, “maybe it is your beautiful heart that attracts them.”

“Or,” Coby suggested, playfully sucking on her finger before releasing it, “they can read and desire me to pen their tales,” he whispered with an eerie undertone.

Gracie let out a playful shriek, her body trembling as if a frigid breeze had swept through.

“Ach!” she exclaimed, “they want to marry you and have your children.”

Their boisterous laughter echoed off the walls, filling the room with joy. Suddenly, the door handle began to jiggle violently, and the door shook as if being forcefully pulled and pushed. Startled, their eyes widened in astonishment. Coby leaped to his feet, his heart racing, and hurried to the door. He flung it open, locking eyes with the ethereal woman, whose eyes glowed like embers. Before he could react, she disappeared into a mesmerising illusion, vanishing like a fleeting scent.

“You clearly got on that one’s bad side,” Gracie commented as the door closed with a reverberating thud. Undeterred, Coby joined his wife and finished his dinner.

❖

Coby and Gracie lay in bed, their sleep restless, constantly disturbed by the ghost woman’s relentless haunting. The musty scent of her decaying breath invaded their nostrils as she entered their bedroom, leaning over them. Desperate for a good night’s rest, Coby reasoned with her, his sleepiness evident. Despite their limited vocabulary, he promised to listen to her story, hoping it would appease her.

As the sun began to rise, its warm rays filtered through the windows, illuminating the room. The air was filled with the raucous cries of seagulls, creating a cacophony that filled Coby’s ears. Weary and worn, he dragged himself out of bed, his body feeling heavy and fatigued. Peering through the windows, he gazed at the picturesque harbour below. Fishing boats bobbed gently on the water, their sails billowing in the breeze. The harbour buzzed with activity, the sound of voices and footsteps mingling in the air.

Struan’s baby blabber beckoned to Coby, pulling him away from the window. With a gentle touch, he lifted his baby boy out of his cot, feeling the warmth of his tiny body against his chest. Gracie slept peacefully nearby, her soft breathing filling the room with a sense of tranquillity. Mindful not to disturb her slumber, Coby spoke in hushed tones, his voice a soft murmur.

As he cradled Struan, a sudden realisation struck Coby like a bolt of lightning. Today was the day Gracie would leave, and they had no pram for their journey. Hastily getting dressed, Coby took Struan on an outing. Stepping into the corridor, the ghostly woman materialised beside him, her eyes shining with an eerie intensity. She glided effortlessly alongside him, her ethereal coos for the baby echoing off the walls, sending chills down Coby’s spine.

❖

Ignoring the eerie presence beside him, Coby walked briskly towards the town centre, determined to find a pram for their journey. The cobbled streets were bustling with activity, people going about their daily routines, seemingly oblivious to the ghostly spectre accompanying him. Coby entered a quaint little shop, its shelves lined with baby essentials.

As he perused the selection, the ghostly woman floated silently beside him, her presence both unsettling and strangely comforting. Coby couldn't help but wonder about her story, her connection to their haunted nights. Was she seeking redemption? Closure? He couldn't be certain, but he knew he had made a promise to listen.

Finally, he found a sturdy pram, just the right size for Gracie’s journey. As he approached the counter to make the purchase, the shopkeeper gave him a curious look, as if sensing the supernatural presence beside him. Coby simply smiled politely, paying no mind to the unspoken questions.

Leaving the shop, Coby made his way back to the inn, the ghostly woman trailing behind him. With each step, he felt a sense of gratitude towards her, a strange bond forming between them. Perhaps, in listening to her story, he would not only appease her restless spirit, but also find answers to the questions that plagued his own mind.

Entering the inn, Coby found Gracie awake, her eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and sadness. He gently placed Struan in the pram, his little fingers gripping the side. Gracie approached, her eyes widening in astonishment. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached out to touch the cool surface of the mirror, drawn to the ethereal image staring back at her. Surprisingly, they shared a moment of understanding, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

It was a beautiful sunny day for a road trip. Gracie had meticulously packed her belongings, while Coby pushed the pram with determination, craving some much-needed alone time. The ghostly woman floated alongside them, her ethereal presence no longer eerie, but rather a guiding light, leading them towards the awaiting car.

The sound of Struan’s baby babble filled the air with pure joy. Coby greeted him with a gentle peck on the cheek and bid Gracie farewell with a loving kiss. Carefully, he secured Struan into his baby seat in the back of the car, while Gracie settled into the driver’s seat.

As the car drove off, heading back home, Coby and the ghostly woman waved goodbye. He stood there, watching as the car disappeared over the crest of the steep hill, before making his way towards the harbour master’s office. There, he inquired about the timetables for the Storm’s Herald. The ticket master, with a bushy crimson moustache, provided him with the information he sought—the ship set sail for Tempest Island each day at ten in the morning and returned at five in the afternoon.

With the ghostly woman gracefully gliding beside him, Coby retraced his steps back to his room at the inn. He opened the curtains wide, pulled up a chair, and sat there, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Storm’s Herald. The pretty ghostly woman stood beside him, her eyes filled with longing, fixated on the picturesque harbour below.

Coby found himself wondering about her thoughts and what drew her to him. His mind wandered back to his very first encounter with a ghost, back when he was just a young child, barely out of his diapers.

He was alone in his bedroom, shivering under the covers, when he saw a figure standing at the foot of his bed. The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Thunder rumbled outside, punctuating the silence with its booming echoes. With every beat, Coby’s childish heart pounded fiercely in his chest, the sound of his pulse resonating in his ears.

As he stared at the ghostly figure, he noticed the ethereal glow that surrounded her. Her translucent form seemed to flicker with each flash of lightning, making her appear both solid and insubstantial. Her eyes, filled with sorrow and longing, held a depth that pierced Coby's soul. She was dressed in a flowing white gown, tattered and worn, as if it had weathered the passage of time. Her long, dark hair cascaded around her pale face, framing features that were both beautiful and haunting. Though she made no sound, Coby could sense her anguish, as if her sorrow permeated the very air he breathed.

Every breath he took seemed to fill his lungs with a chill, as if the room itself had turned icy. Goosebumps prickled his skin, and a shiver ran down his spine. The heaviness of the ghost's presence weighed upon him, pressing down upon his shoulders, making it difficult to move or speak.

Coby's mind raced with questions and fear, his thoughts swirling like the storm outside. The unknown loomed before him, casting a sense of dread and curiosity that collided within his mind.

In that dark and stormy night, Coby's encounter with the ghost had changed everything. The room, once his sanctuary, now held an otherworldly presence that he couldn't ignore. As he looked into the ghostly woman's eyes, he knew he was about to embark on a journey into the unknown, where the lines between reality and the supernatural would blur.

Since that night, Coby had been drawn to the supernatural, seeking answers and understanding. He had spent countless hours researching ghosts, hauntings, and the paranormal. It had become a fascination, a way for him to make sense of his own experiences.

But now, as he sat in the inn room, waiting for the arrival of the Storm's Herald, he couldn't help but feel a connection to this ghostly woman. It was as if she had chosen him, or perhaps he had chosen her. Whatever the reason, he knew he had a promise to fulfil—to listen to her story.

As the clock ticked closer to five in the afternoon, Coby's anticipation grew. The ghostly woman stood by his side, her ethereal presence giving him a strange sense of comfort. He wondered what had brought her to this point and what had led her to become a restless spirit. He hoped that by listening to her, he could help bring her peace.

Finally, the sound of a ship's horn echoed through the air, signalling the arrival of the Storm's Herald. Coby’s heart pounded as he sprang to his feet, adrenaline coursing through his veins. The ghostly woman’s eyes filled with longing as they watched the ship dock at the harbour. With each passing moment, Coby's determination grew. His heart pounded in his chest, matching the rhythm of the bustling port.

He strained his eyes, darting them from one disembarking passenger to another, desperately seeking a glimpse of the man with silver hair and mismatched eyes. The salty sea breeze brushed against his face, carrying the scent of brine and anticipation. But, alas, the man was nowhere to be found on this voyage. With a tinge of disappointment, he clung to the hope of tomorrow’s arrival.