Chapter 9 – The Lighthouse That Dreamed

Recap:

After unlocking a hidden chamber beneath the Dusk Bell, Ansh retrieves the first of four mystical Anchors meant to hold back the Watchers. The prism's activation causes a massive ripple, banishing the invading entities momentarily. But the price of awakening this power continues to chip away at Ansh's identity—and the Watchers are evolving.

Rain clawed at the windshield as Ishu's car rattled down the desolate coastal road.

Ansh sat in the passenger seat, the prism wrapped in thick cloth beside his feet. It pulsed with a soft, violet glow, like a heartbeat lost in time.

Vaishnavi flipped through a weathered notebook in the back seat. "There's a pattern to the Anchor locations. The second one should be on the Far Coast—where the sea doesn't reflect the sky."

"You mean that old fisherman's tale?" Ishu asked.

"No. I mean the Lighthouse that Dreamed."

The lighthouse was visible from miles away—an ivory spire stabbing into the mist. No light shone from its peak. No birds circled its height. It sat motionless on a jagged cliffside, the ocean beneath roiling unnaturally.

"That place has been sealed since before our parents were born," Vaishnavi said as they parked the car. "The last keeper was said to have vanished in his sleep."

As they approached, Ansh heard a whisper.

Not outside.

Inside his skull.

"Return me."

He looked at the prism. It had begun to hum.

The lighthouse door creaked open at their touch. The air inside was stale, layered with dust and sea salt.

"We should be careful," Vaishnavi warned. "This place feels... folded."

The spiral stairs creaked as they climbed. With each step, the light dimmed, even though it was day outside. By the time they reached the central chamber, it was as if the sun had gone out.

The room was circular, lined with windows that showed nothing. No sea. No sky. Just darkness.

And at the center stood a glass pedestal. Upon it—a silver compass, spinning wildly.

Ishu stepped forward. "The second Anchor?"

Ansh nodded. "Or a gate."

Then the compass froze.

And the dream began.

All three collapsed at once, their minds pulled violently from their bodies.

They awoke in the same room—but different. The windows now revealed strange skies. Moons hung in clusters. Waves moved in reverse.

They were in the dream of the lighthouse.

And they weren't alone.

The Watchers were there—but changed.

No longer just void and shroud. These ones had faces. Familiar ones. Teachers. Friends. Even their own reflections.

"They've learned to mimic," Vaishnavi whispered. "We're not fighting creatures anymore. We're fighting versions of ourselves."

A mock-Ansh stepped forward, its smile too wide, its eyes too still. "Why struggle, Sovaan? The breach is mercy. You're just a scar that refuses to heal."

Real Ansh stepped forward. "You want me to surrender."

"No. We want you to remember."

Suddenly, pain lanced through his head. Visions cascaded:

A war of echoes.

A mirror shattering across multiple realities.

Sovaan driving a blade of light through a burning world.

And then:

A whispered name.

"Miralai."

He gasped. The Anchor pulsed.

Back in the waking world, their bodies twitched.

The pedestal cracked.

Vaishnavi reached for the compass, her hand flickering between states—real and not.

"We have to sever the dream," she yelled. "Or we'll be stuck in it forever."

In the dream, Ansh locked eyes with his mimic.

"I don't need to destroy you. I just need to outlast you."

He reached for the silver compass in the dream-world.

As his fingers touched it, he shouted: "Miralai!"

The mimic screamed.

The lighthouse exploded with light.

All three woke in unison, coughing.

The pedestal was gone.

In its place: the second Anchor—this one a silver sphere, etched with mirrored runes.

Ishu picked it up, hands trembling. "Two down."

Ansh nodded, though his eyes lingered on the broken pedestal.

Vaishnavi noticed. "What did you see?"

Ansh whispered, "Not just who I was... but who I hurt."

He didn't elaborate.

End of Chapter 9