The lighthouse
The storm howled through the cliffs, the waves crashing like fists against the rocks. Olivia James peered through the rain-streaked window of the lighthouse, her heart hammering at the sight of wreckage tumbling in the tide.
She was the only member left of her family as other members had lost their lives againt the cruelty of the sea- in storms, never returning. She loved here with an old couple who took over the lighthouse after her families demise to her with the tasks around.
And then fom the wet wondows she saw him—a lone figure, half-submerged, battered by the sea.
Ignoring the couple's shouts to stay inside, she grabbed a lantern and rushed down the slippery path to the shore. The man was barely conscious, his fine clothing torn and drenched, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. With great effort, she dragged him away from the water's reach, his breathing shallow but steady. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen.
She didn't know who he was, but she knew one thing: she wouldn't let him die.
...
When the stranger awoke, he was lying in a small room, bandages wrapped around his wounds. His eyes, a stormy shade of gray, flickered with confusion.
"Where am I? Who are you? " he rasped.
"The lighthouse. You were shipwrecked.I am Olivia," she said, offering him water.
He hesitated before murmuring, "Leo. My name is Leo… I think."
But something about him unsettled her. His hands were calloused yet carried the grace of someone who had once held a sword. His posture was rigid, disciplined, as if he had been trained for command.
As the days passed, Leo regained his strength, helping Olivia and the couple maintain the lighthouse. They were growing closer day by day.
He worked with quiet a skill, fixing the broken gears of the lantern mechanism, carving intricate wooden figures of the sea for Elena when she wasn't looking.
But at night, his dreams were restless—fragments of betrayal, of a dagger in the dark, of a ship meant to carry him far from danger.
...
One evening, Olivia took Leo to the nearby fishing village. The storm had passed long ago, but a different tension lingered in the air. Sailors whispered in hushed voices.
' Royal guards were searching the coast for a fugitive. A prince'.
Olivia's stomach twisted. She turned to Leo, whose face had paled hearing the whispers.
"You knew," she accused softly.
His jaw tightened. "Not at first. But I remember now."
Prince Leonhart of Valmere. Betrayed by his own uncle, accused of treason, and sentenced to exile or death, after his father's death. His ship had been sabotaged, meant to sink without a trace. He had survived—but not by accident, his guards has made way for him.
Olivua could have escaped from there then. Could have turned him in. But deep down, she already knew her heart had chosen him long before she knew his name.
"We have to leave, go somewhere else," she said.
...
The lighthouse was no longer safe. As the wind howled through the cliffs, Olivia and Leo had prepared all necessities to flee. But before they could escape, torches flickered in the distance. The guards were coming.
Olivia and Leo sprinted to the shore, where a small fishing boat bobbed in the waves. The water was rough, but they had no choice. Just as they pushed off, a voice rang out—"Stop them!"
An arrow whizzed past, striking the boat's wooden hull. Another nearly grazed Olovia's shoulder. Leo grabbed the oars, rowing furiously as the lighthouse beam cut across the waves, illuminating their pursuers.
The sea roared beneath them, carrying them away from the shore, away from the only home Elena had ever known.
.....
When the guards were finally nothing more than specks in the distance, Olivia let out a shaky breath. Leo dropped the oars, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
"You didn't have to come with me," he said, voice raw with emotion.
Olivia reached into her pocket and pulled out the small wooden lighthouse he had carved for her. She turned it over in her palm, then met his gaze.
"Yet, I did."
Leo exhaled, a quiet laugh escaping him. He reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers. The lighthouse faded behind them, its golden beam still cutting through the darkness.
Ahead of them, Valmere awaited—a kingdom in turmoil, a stolen throne, and a battle yet to come. But for now, they had the open sea, the taste of salt on the wind, and the promise of a new beginning.
...
The End.