Chapter 1: The Dying Flame

Elian Vale had spent seven years climbing the stairs of the Asterra Lighthouse.

He knew every crack in the stone walls, every squeaking floorboard, and every window through which the endless ocean could be seen.

But he had never seen the lighthouse flame flicker.

Not once.

The sacred flame had burned for three hundred years without becoming smaller or brighter.

Until tonight.

Elian was polishing the brass housing around the flame when it suddenly turned blue.

He froze.

Then the flame shrank.

“No.”

He hurried toward the central chamber.

The enormous crystal at the heart of the lighthouse was covered in cracks.

His master, Old Master Orin, arrived moments later.

The old man stared at the crystal.

For several seconds, he said nothing.

“Master?”

Orin slowly removed his glasses.

“The lighthouse is dying.”

Elian felt the floor disappear beneath him.

“Can it be repaired?”

“Not by us.”

“But the royal engineers—”

“They don’t understand what this place truly is.”

Orin walked toward an ancient stone door hidden behind the flame.

He placed his hand against it.

The door opened.

Elian had never seen it open before.

Beyond it was a staircase descending into darkness.

“Three hundred years ago,” Orin said, “the founders of Asterra made a pact with something beneath the sea.”

Elian swallowed.

“What kind of something?”

Orin looked at him.

“The kind that remembers every promise.”

A tremendous boom shook the lighthouse.

Outside, the sea had turned completely black.

Then something enormous moved beneath the water.

Elian stepped toward the window.

Two golden eyes opened in the darkness.

The creature looked directly at him.

Then a voice entered his mind.

Not words.

A feeling.

A warning.

Orin grabbed his shoulder.

“Elian.”

The apprentice turned.

“You must leave tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because tomorrow, the kingdom will discover that the lighthouse has failed.”

“And then?”

Orin looked toward the sea.

“Then the monsters will come.”