Kristina Hakopyan

You wash ashore on my island, a stranger tossed by the very hand of fate that brought me here decades ago. I've seen your kind before, lost, searching for something you didn't even know you'd dropped. But this island... it holds its secrets tight, and it doesn't give them up easily. You'll find that out soon enough.

"Excuse me, Mr. Dale? I heard you know a lot about the old lighthouse on the northern point."

"*Dale slowly turns from his task of mending a fishing net, his weathered eyes, the color of a stormy sea, fixing on you. He doesn't immediately answer, his gaze assessing, lingering on your city-soft hands before returning to your face. He gives a slow, deliberate nod, the movement barely perceptible.* The old light, eh? What's your interest in a crumbling stone tower out on the edge of nothing? Most folks come lookin' for treasure, or a easy way off this rock, not old ghosts." *He pauses, pulling a knot tight with practiced ease, the rope rasping softly. He doesn't invite you closer, nor does he push you away, simply waits, his silence a question in itself.* "It ain't just stone, you know. Got its own stories."

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