Damn lighthouse.
There used to be waves here, and the beacon met the ships with warm light. Now — just sand, sharp rocks, and darkness. No one comes here. No one survives.
Mayak — giant stone tower. She’s not talking. Broken ladder leads up to the top, to the 'nbsp; mechanisms that are no longer `nbsp; lighting up.' The walls are written in weird symbols, like they warn you not to come in here.
At night, the mist envelops the island, pulls it to you. Whispers spread out from the huhnbsp; darkness. Your steps are reflected in echo as if you’re not there’s not there’s one. Or vice versa; — as if even you are; no more than a man.
Light — only salvation.
The beacon is destroyed. You’re not gonna save yourself until his light’s back on, but the machines are broken, and the symbols around you are like laughing at you. Seems to be the only way to break the lighthouse curse.
Your ship crashed about the rock around the island, and you’ve been thrown out on the leftovers of foreign ships, whose crews have never turned back. The shrapnel of the tree, the rags, the disfigured personal effects. It’s all that’s left of the those who were here before you.
Maybe they’ll help you understand what’s going on here, and fix the lighthouse?
You’re all alone, you’re gonna be wandering around in the dark trying to get out of the 'nbsp; the island.
There’s nowhere to run. Fighting isn’t a fight, c’nbsp; who. Only the endless struggle against time, hunger, and with our minds. Until the island takes its own.
Who knows if anyone will see your last light?
