This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice.

The lighthouse stood sentinel against the storm-darkened sky, its beacon cutting through sheets of rain that lashed the rocky coastline of Thornwick Bay. Marina Delacroix pressed her face against the salt-stained window of her grandfather's cottage, watching the waves crash against the jagged cliffs below with a violence that both terrified and fascinated her.

She had arrived only three days ago from London, summoned by a letter that spoke of inheritance and mystery in equal measure. Her grandfather, Aldric Delacroix, had been the lighthouse keeper for forty years before his passing, and now the responsibility fell to her—a responsibility she neither wanted nor understood.

The storm was unlike anything the locals had seen in decades, they told her. It had begun the very night she'd arrived, as if the sea itself was announcing her presence. Marina found such talk ridiculous, the superstitions of small coastal folk who had too little to occupy their minds. Yet something about this place felt different, as though the very air hummed with secrets waiting to be discovered.

A knock at the cottage door interrupted her brooding. Marina opened it to find Thomas Hartwell, the village constable, his rain-soaked uniform clinging to his tall frame. His dark eyes held concern as he removed his cap, revealing hair the color of autumn leaves.

"Miss Delacroix," he said, his voice warm despite the chill in the air. "I wanted to check on you. This storm shows no signs of letting up, and I know you're not familiar with how fierce they can be here."

Marina stepped aside to let him enter, grateful for the company. "Please, call me Marina. And thank you for checking on me. I confess, I've been feeling rather isolated since I arrived."