The woman in the archive wears fingerless gloves and keeps a kettle balanced on a stove much older than the room. She introduces herself as Mrs Vale. When you mention the telephone call, she says she hoped you would be less obedient than the others. The ledger is heavy enough to require both your hands. Each page records a ship, a tide, a payment, and the number of bells sounded from the lighthouse. Your sister has slipped thin strips of paper beside six entries. All six ships arrived safely. All six captains paid for repairs they never received. At first you think the fraud is ordinary: invented work, frightened visitors, an isolated harbour. Then you notice that every disputed entry has the same correction. Someone has changed a three into a two. Mrs Vale places a printed coastal notice beside the book. Three bells mean the outer channel is clear. Two direct a vessel into the inner passage, where the reef is hidden at high tide. Mara borrowed this notice yesterday. She also asked whether Elias had always been keeper. Mrs Vale does not answer that question. Instead she turns to a page from twenty years ago, where an entire column has been cut away with a blade. You photograph the marked entries and tuck the coastal notice inside your pocket. When a shadow crosses the frosted glass, Mrs Vale closes the ledger with sudden force. Take the hill road or the old signal tunnel, she whispers. But do not let him tell you that a light can break in only one way.
A missing sister. A falsified signal. One storm to decide what the truth will cost Greyhaven.
Listen closely. Choose carefully. Carry the consequences.
Every path leaves a different story.