Memoirs of the Lightkeeper
Loneliness. If a virtue existed for the Spire, it would be this. The emptiness of the vast seas, pounding against the base for all of time, crashing against the stone below in a cadence familiar to the tide and the tide alone.
The work keeps me. The light, it keeps me. My purpose, my profession, my prison. The Spire has guided the Maritime Trade Union's ships around the Sunken Ridge for generations, nearly two decades under my watch. My duty, to watch the ships sail by, free to come and go as they please. At such distance, there is no company to keep but the work.
The seasonal shipments are barely a respite. A brief moment of faces, but none familiar. Disinterested conversation, listless inventory checks, and then those faces cast off, not to be seen again. With such a busy life, not many have time to stay awhile with an old hand like me. Thankless is the work, but it keeps me. Such is the price to be paid for the gateway to a larger world.

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Matt
Fantasy Atlas
2024-01-31 10:39:47 +0000 UTCRobert
2024-01-30 12:38:39 +0000 UTC