The night was going well and without much hassle. Aside from the moldy stench that constantly reminded them of the unhealthy room, the accommodation was pleasant and served them well to finally get a good night's sleep. Well, most of them at least. Smythe was awoken once again by his recurring dream and so stared through the window overlooking the forest. It was then that he noticed something moving in the darkness.

Is that a ... person? Or are the trees themselves moving? It looks like, they are getting closer. Come to think of it, was the forest this close to the house when we arrived?

He quickly put on his glasses and had another look. Everything seemed fine, but there was no going back to sleep until he confirmed or was able to disregard his suspicions. Smythe quietly went out.
Nothing. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

As he was already outside, he decided to take a walk on the large balcony that surrounded the house. He was looking up at the clear skies, admiring how well he could discern the stars and other celestial luminosities now that there was virtually no source of light down here on the ground for many miles.
The longer he stared at the various colors and strange shapes that made up the starry sky, the more he felt uneasiness creeping in and replacing the natural awe. His eyes were especially drawn toward the moon.

It's as if ... something hides behind it.

He couldn't quite put his feeling into words, but his thoughts wouldn't let him rest. There was definitely something wrong with that particular part of the sky.

Suddenly, he heard a sound, in close proximity, no less. As he was quiet and unmoving for some time, he was sure of himself and the fact that whatever was lurking in the dark wasn't aware of his presence.

1 ... 2 ... 3 ...  * click *

Holding the top of his cane at the ready, he approached the hunched-over figure carefully, not making any noise. Whatever crouched in the darkness was too occupied by staring down Annabella's window to notice his approach.
Instead of drawing his blade, Smythe opted to use his cane to smack the figure overhead.

"Ouch!" a familiar voice could be heard.

"Carter? You ... imbecile," Smythe clenched his teeth, "You could have been killed!"

"What? Professor Smythe ... what are you saying? How could I have been killed exactly?"

Noticing Smythe holding his cane in an almost protective manner, the young cartographer reached a conclusion.

"What in the lord's name are you doing here? Were you ... ?" Smythe reached a conclusion of his own, "Spying on miss Annabella?"

"No ... No, nothing like that," Carter defended.

"Then what were you doing here in front of her very window, staring right through it, if not—"

"And you?" Carter snapped at him.

"What about me?" said Smythe almost mockingly, "I suffer from mild insomnia, I was just taking a breath of fresh air. Unlike a certain pervert ... " he finished under his breath.

"That's not what I meant. I meant what's with you and that cane?"

"What about my cane? It's made out of finest—"

"Stop lying. It's a cane with a hidden blade. I saw you."

"What do you mean?" Smythe got serious.

"I saw what you did to the boy on the ship."

"You idiot. I'm not a murderer, now listen to me very carefully. What you saw from wherever you were hiding is not the whole picture. When I found him, the boy was already dead. His body was sprung up like a marionette by a sea creature from your worst nightmares. If you saw what I saw, you would have done the same."

"So ... the other body you and Ivan threw off the deck was ... "

"Yes, it was that ghastly thing. But if I had told them the truth, do you think anyone would have believed me?" asked Smythe.

"No ... I suppose not. I mean ... I believe you because I saw some of what transpired. I mean, I'm not sure what I saw. The storm and darkness made it very hard for me to discern who was fighting, but it looked to me like you ... well, never mind. I won't tell anyone. And I wasn’t spying on Annabella."

"Right," said Smythe sarcastically.

Carter sighed, adding, "Think what you will, but I thought I saw something moving outside and came to check."

Smythe couldn't be certain if that was the truth, but he was out for this very same reason, so he found it hard to argue against it.

* * *

The next morning after a small breakfast, they divided into two groups. Annabella, Pickman, and Leah were to head over to the lighthouse and try to find any water or food along the way. It's not like they couldn't make it one more day until the icebreaker ship arrived, but they didn't want to risk it and were determined to find some.
The other group was Ivan, Carter, and Smythe, tasked with burning the inside of the room and making sure they can put out the fire.
Their main concern was that the bags of sand and buckets of seawater weren't going to be enough to put out the flames if they grow too large. Other than that, starting the fire was a no-brainer as they found a barrel full of fuel for the petroleum lamps. Deciding to use half of it, they spilled it inside the dark moldy room where the black roots were at their worst. The idea was to close the door and then start the fire so that the lack of oxygen would somewhat keep it under control. The only problem was, the door was broken. They had to find a way to keep it close and if chaining it together would do the trick, that's what they'd try.

Meanwhile, the first group was closing in on the lighthouse. It was much taller than it seemed from afar. The sky above it dragged slowly giving the illusion that the lighthouse is going to fall over any second now.

"Oh ... my head ... " Annabella complained.

"Are you alright," asked Leah, "Do you suffer from migraines?"

"No ... It's just. You know ... that time for me," she admitted shyly.

"Oh, that's quite normal. As long as it's not an unbearable pain."

"No, just a small headache, that's all," she smiled forcefully.

"Ok. Look, if you need anything, let me know. I came quite prepared," he patted his medical bag.

"That's reassuring. Thank you."

The trio entered the lighthouse. It was lit only by the daylight creeping in through the small windows. A set of circular stairs was leading up and behind it was hidden another barrel of petroleum fuel.

"This is handy," commented Pickman, who found it, "Now if only we could find some water and we're in the clear.

"I don't know about you but I wouldn't call this being in the clear by a long shot. This island ... the missing people ... now this strange infected room ... I've seen enough to regret this expedition a hundred times over. I'd gladly renown any gold whatsoever if I could just be back in my hometown tonight," said Leah Eris.

"Yeah well, it ain't that simple for me anymore. My son died for this. I want to make the best of it and return with a find that will change the world. I don't like Smythe any more than you do but did you see those eyes? That man has a vision and he will do whatever is necessary to make it come true. I wanna be there when it happens. I want to be a part of history and I will use him to achieve that."

"An aspiring archaeologist ... ?" Leah wondered out loud.

"Is there any other kind?" Axel smiled.

"Heh ... I suppose there isn't," the doctor accepted.

On one of the many floors was a small workshop. Likely a place for the keeper of the lighthouse to manage simple repairs and such matters.

They reached the top of the lighthouse and Pickman was the first to step outside. Literally at the very moment, he did, something caught his leg and started pulling him toward the fence.

"Fuck! Help!" he grabbed the fence, but the long limb dragged him toward the part where the fence was missing as if it knew that was the way to pull him down.

"What is that thing!?" screamed Annabella.

A long grey and purple tentacle was clenched around Pickman's ankle. It was glossy and looked like it had a layer of transparent skin over it. Coming from somewhere below the lighthouse, it wiggled frantically to make the man let go of the fence.

"Quick, do something!" Annabella begged the doctor.

He in turn, lacking a better idea, decided to smash the lighthouse's glass panel by running straight into it. Covered in glass shards and his own blood, he shouted.

"Hurry, use the shards!"

Annabella grabbed one in panic and used it to stab the creature's limb. It let go of Pickman's leg and retreated down the lighthouse wall. The woman stood up and looked over the fence after the creature, but only saw a glimpse of it before it retreated to the sea.

"Wha ... what was that thing?" shouted Pickman on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"That was ... " feeling the pressure of being a biologist and having the duty to recognize the creature they encountered, but not having the slightest idea what she saw, Annabella's eyes remained wide open as she gulped, caught her breath, looked at Pickman and half-whispered, "... I don't know."