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Elias, perched in the lantern room, felt the tremor of the sea’s distress. He hurried to the massive brass lantern, its oil lamp already burning, and adjusted the great Fresnel lens, intensifying the beam. He then descended the spiral staircase to the keeper’s quarters, where a battered old logbook lay open. He flipped to a page marked “The Storm of 1849,” recalling a legend that the lighthouse’s light was more than mere illumination—it could guide lost souls, both literal and metaphorical.