This was written in response to Power-Up Prompt #25 from The Writer's Journey.
The genre is gothic horror, and the three-part prompt is:
Setting: The Lighthouse
Character: The Reluctant Guardian
Conflict: The Cost of Happiness
The fog wrapped the lighthouse like gauze — soft, clinging, suffocating. A bandage shielding me from the world beyond. Or maybe protecting the world from me. I’d made bad decisions in the past, and the lighthouse -- isolated, quiet — was my punishment. But at least it was safe, even if safe didn’t always mean quite what it used to.
And it was only safe as long as he remained asleep — locked in stasis beneath my feet.
I’ve had two jobs here for almost a hundred years now. They’d be my responsibility for many, many more. It was my duty to ensure the light shone and lit up the darkness for the surrounding sea — keeping sailors safe from the rocks that kept me isolated. But that was the easy part of the job.
The other part was… harder. But I’d earned it with my choices. Poor choices. I’d chosen to support Dragen — loved him with every part of me. That love blinded me to his flaws — the kind you shouldn’t be able to ignore.
Dragen was a killer. He hunted and fed and never felt a moment of remorse for his choices, no matter who he hurt or how many he killed. And I’d pretended it didn’t matter. That he was worth any cost. I’d loved him so much that his actions were easy to justify. Until the child died.
In the end, the Council stepped in. They claimed he brought too much attention to the vampires. They claimed I conspired and helped. So even though I’m not a vampire myself, I was punished for my part in helping him.
And my sentence is to stay here. Living in the lighthouse above where he’s been entombed and ensuring no one frees him. I slumped into my chair and watched the waves as I did every day. And I remembered…
Dragen was the first immortal I’d met — other than myself. But unlike me, he needed the blood of others to remain alive. He was a charming genius who remembered what life was like hundreds of years ago — just like me. It was intoxicating, being able to talk with someone who understood. Who remembered.
He knew what I was quickly. I still don’t know how, but he knew. He began making references to the past — not just the highlights from history books but the little details of what life was really like. What the soap smelled like. How the fabric of towels was so different. How the bread we ate all tasted so fresh compared to what we eat now.
He knew things no one else knew. No one who hadn’t been there. But I knew. And that was how his seduction began.
Age doesn’t always bring wisdom — not when you’re both lonely and alone — and a handsome man’s love offers the answer to both problems.
I’d been avoiding relationships for well over a hundred years by that point. I’d settled in as a nun in one abbey after another across Europe — each time staying only a couple of decades until my unchanging age became unavoidably noticeable.
But that life was… stifling. Some of them avoided not just men, but in many cases, joy itself. As though finding joy in music or food or words was somehow a sin. But I missed joy. While my immortality had always meant I was alone, at that point I was truly lonely, as well. And… sad.
Enter Dragen with his wit, and his stories, and his overwhelming sexuality. I was entranced — instantly enraptured by him and the excitement and intensity he represented.
Love was inevitable. Not because he was that special, though he was. But because I was that hungry for it.
We were together for six decades.
We traveled the world, and we explored the best culture had to offer and the most remote wilderness. We read every book we could get our hands on, then we discussed them at length. We listened to music. We ate exotic food. We investigated one another’s bodies in the most intimate ways. We investigated the bodies of other beautiful people — sharing them like we did our books and music.
He was my world.
And somehow I was able to overlook one little detail — he slaughtered people to stay alive. But not just to extend his life, but also because he enjoyed it. Some part of him took great satisfaction in watching the spark drain from his victim’s eyes. The younger and more vital, the better.
I’d like to say he hid it from me, but that wouldn’t be true. I chose not to see it. I looked away from the satisfied smile on his face when he came home with blood on his hands.
I waited to greet him until he’d finished bathing the evidence away. I didn’t want to see it.
We went on that way for a long time, until he brought home a child — he called the boy a snack. He couldn’t have been more than four years old. And I… I couldn’t look away from the small redheaded child who looked like he might’ve been mine.
And that’s when it all began to fall apart. It turned out the child’s parents were “very important people,” which meant rich and very visible. The Council appeared at our doorstep a few days later. And that was that.
Dragen fought them, of course. First physically, then with logic in his hearing. But it all fell on deaf ears — his guilt was determined before his hearing ever began. And so was mine.
While I was not a vampire, and thus, not technically answerable to the Council, they claimed I had participated in endangering the vampires, and so my culpability was clear. I didn’t argue the point.
My guilt was strong enough that I was willing to accept punishment. I knew I’d earned it.
And I’ve been here ever since. I see no one except the occasional Council visitor or a lost hiker. Once a selkie who washed up on shore after an orca attack.
This place sometimes makes me miss the company I had in the abbeys.
That’s why the knock on the door was such a surprise.
I was reading on the deck at the top of the lighthouse, staying carefully out of the sun — my pale skin was prone to sunburn. The knock was powerful. No hesitation, just a strong pounding that sounded urgent.
I set my book — The Brothers Karamazov — aside and hurried down the stairs, brow furrowing as I ran through potential scenarios for who might be knocking. I swung the door open to a stranger — a handsome man with rugged features and shockingly green eyes.
I felt my eyes widen and my cheeks go pink as I had some immediate and inappropriate thoughts for a stranger. In my defense, I’d been without a sexual partner for over a hundred years now. But I kept my tone calm as I asked, “Can I help you?”
His answer came in an engaging Scottish lilt. “Aye, you’re dismissed. Council says you’re free to go.”
I blinked. Again. I wasn’t due for any kind of parole or release… ever. It had never even been discussed. I’d thought my sentence was permanent.
“I… I don’t understand,” I finally spluttered. “How can I be done? What about…?” My voice trailed off as I glanced over my shoulder at the hatch leading down to where Dragen was kept contained in a stone tomb. Cold air always breathed up through it, damp and mineral, like the earth itself was holding its breath.
The stranger pushed his way into my lighthouse — my home and my prison — as though he had a right. “I’ll be taking your place for now,” he answered calmly, his gaze moving around the room with a level of ownership that put my hackles up.
His boots scuffed against the stone floor as if testing it, the sound echoing in a space that hadn’t belonged to anyone else in a century.
“No,” I barked out urgently, pushing back at him. “This isn’t right.”
His grin was amused. And it displayed a lot of fang. He was a vampire. “You don’t get to say what’s right. The Council decides.”
I thought for a moment, watching him moving around my space. Was this right? Did the Council get to decide that my punishment was over? They’d put me here, so maybe they did.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized the truth. The Council didn’t decide my punishment — I did. I simply chose to go along with what they decided. Not because they had control but because I believed their proposed punishment was just.
I belonged here. Just like Dragen. This was our prison not because we’d been sentenced, but because we’d earned it.
“No,” I said quietly. Settling my feet flat to the floor and preparing to hold my ground. Because this was my ground.
The strange vampire’s grin widened. “They didn’t think you’d fight me. They thought you’d be glad to leave. But they did give me instructions on how to handle it if you wouldn’t go.” He paused and looked me up and down with a leer that made me feel less tingly and more angry.
“Now that I’ve seen you, I’m actually hoping you’ll put up a fight,” he smirked.
That’s when I realized Dragen hadn’t ever told them about me. My grin suddenly matched the vamp’s.
He seemed to think that was some kind of invitation. Or maybe a challenge. He rushed me, claws extending from his fingers and fangs lengthening as he approached.
But he never reached me. He never had a chance.
Even as his muscles first tensed, I was moving. I was behind him before he’d taken more than a step, on his back before he’d taken two. I felt the instant his certainty fractured — the moment he understood he’d misjudged the room.
An instant later, I’d sliced open his jugular, his carotid, and removed his eyeballs with my talons all before he reached the spot where I’d started.
He was on the ground, screaming and writhing — one hand digging at his empty eyes while the other clung to his neck, trying to hold in the little blood that remained.
Like Dragen had done in the beginning, he’d underestimated me. They always did. They never questioned how I could be immortal but not like them. Not vampire. Something older. Something even Dragen could never name.
Dragen had learned quickly. Honestly, I believed it was part of what attracted him to me. But he hadn’t shared what he’d learned.
Interesting.
I pushed the squawling vamp to the door and out into the yard. He begged and pleaded as he choked on his blood. The open wounds began to smoke slightly as the sunlight hit them, and his screams grew louder.
Fortunately, no one would hear him, given our isolation. I eyed him thoughtfully, before sighing and heading back inside for some bandages. None of what I’d done would kill him, but I wanted him mobile enough to go back to the Council with my message.
I gathered first aid supplies and headed back outside. I stitched the slice on his neck closed and placed gauze over his eyes. “Oh, be quiet,” I finally snapped as the yelling got louder as I pressed the bandages into his sockets.
Surprisingly, he did. Once he was bandaged, he sat quiet and obedient. He knew he was beaten and had been before the fight had ever started.
I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but it was truth. “I want you to give the Council a message,” I said quietly as I sat down next to him.
“It will take time for my eyes to heal,” he answered. “But I can call. Or I can go in once I’m able to see again.”
I nodded slowly. “Call. Tell them my punishment isn’t done. I’ll tell them when it is.”
I’m not sure how he managed to look surprised with all the bandages on his eyes, but he did. It radiated from him as his head tilted. “You’re staying here?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “Both Dragen and I still owe for the damage we did. We’ll stay here until our debt is paid.”
The vamp stared blindly in my direction — cotton eyes empty and blank. “When will that be?”
“I don’t know,” I answered quietly. “I suppose I’ll know it when I feel it.”
There was a long pause. The vamp was actually considering what I was saying. Surprising. Maybe there was more to him than the arrogant bastard who’d pushed his way into my space. “And you’ll decide for Dragen, as well?” he finally asked.
That made me stop and consider. Did I have that right? Dragen answered to the Council because all vampires did. Did he answer to me, too?
I knew how he’d respond to that question. But he couldn’t offer an opinion right now. Only one other person could.
I cocked my head and chuckled softly. “I guess I’ll let that be partly your decision.”
Again he somehow conveyed his surprise. “Me? Why me?”
“Because you’re the only one here.”
“You want me to decide if Dragen’s punishment is done?” he asked, obviously wanting to be sure he knew what I was asking. He was definitely being much more careful of me now.
It was probably for the best, but it made me a little sad. I hated being feared — always had. Was it cowardice, asking him to weigh in? Or mercy? Maybe both.
I sighed, “Yes. And no. I guess I’m asking if you think I should decide for Dragen as well as myself. Or if I should let the Council decide.” I waited in silence, watching as he thought.
“I should call and ask,” he finally answered. But I knew he’d made a decision of his own. That was the one I wanted.
“But what do you think?” I asked.
The big cotton-covered eyes stared, and then he grinned disarmingly. Surprised me, really. “I think you might be a harsher judge than the Council. And they’re a bunch of bastards.” He barked a laugh and then clutched his neck as pain from the healing cut struck.
“But yeah. I think you should make the decision. Why not you?” he finished.
And I didn’t have an answer for that. So I just nodded, then helped him to his feet and led him back to his car at the edge of the woods.
“Tell them not to come back,” I said as he settled into the driver’s seat to wait for his eyes to finish healing. “I’ll let Dragen out when it’s time.”
He nodded. “When I’m healed, could I come back and visit you?” he asked.
I grinned. I’d never even learned his name. “No. But maybe when my punishment is done, I’ll find you.”
With that, I turned on my heel and headed back to the lighthouse.
—
‼️ If you liked this, you may want to check out some of my other fiction.
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Awesome!
That was simply great.