Chapter Text
The wind whips rain against the window, and Khun sighs, closing his book. He sets it on the table as he stretches, grabbing a flashlight and heading for the stairs. He knows the lens is fine, that the lamp is lit, but it doesn't hurt to check when a storm comes in.
As he passes a window on his climb up the tower, lightening cracks across the sky. It illuminates the sea for a split second, waves roiling the highest he's seen in his seven years on top of the cliff. They're even higher than six years ago. Khun curses under his breath, barely making out a sail on the water, and climbs faster.
He pauses a moment in the service room, giving the clockworks responsible for rotating the lens a glance to confirm they were still moving before dashing up the last few stairs. First, lens. It's definitely rotating, so nothing between the clockworks and the optics room is broken. Next, lamp. The wick is lit, but it should be brighter. He topped off the oil three hours ago, it shouldn't be running low for another six at the worst. Could the vents... He bends to check the vent closest to him. The wind has changed direction, throwing rain into the wrong windows of his house, and ruining the necessary draft in the optics room.
Khun moves around the edge of the room, adjusting the vents with quick calculation. The draft slowly fixes itself, drawing the oil fumes away from the wick, making the light shine brighter. He stills and looks out the storm panels, making sure no other variables had changed since his routine visit.
The sea illuminates again, just in time for Kuhn to see the ship lose itself to the waves.
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He checks the oil levels before his mad dash down the stairs, just in case his eyes deceived him, just in case there's another ship on the water. It wasn't too far off shore. He tears across his living room, accumulating his jacket and hat and boots, swapping his flashlight for one designed to survive the rain. It was to the south, away from town. He only pauses to make sure the door latches against the wind, keeping the storm from his books.
Khun makes his way down the hill, angling away from the beach. The dark and the rain make the steeper, shorter path over loose rock too dangerous, no matter how hurried he feels. Eventually, sand crunches under his boots, and he begins swinging his light across the waterline, double-checking his calculations for how far he'll have to search.
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An hour later, the cold wind has numbed his face. Debris started washing ashore thirty minutes ago, more or less, but Khun still hasn't seen a person. One more pass, then I'll have to warm up and eat something before coming back to look, he promises himself. The thirty minutes he'll spend away from the beach may feel like a waste, but he knows from experience that it's necessary.
As he reaches the southernmost part of his partol, Khun swings the flashlight wide. The light stutters, and he spends a moment shaking it. I'll need to put new batteries in this while I eat. He gets the light to shine steadily, then sweeps the area again. Just before the beach curves out of view, there is someone laying in the sand.
Khun runs to their side, dropping to his knees. Their pulse is thready and their breathing is labored, but they're alive. He turns the survivor to their side, checking for fractures and dislocation, but he finds only cuts and bruises. They start coughing up seawater, but don't fully wake up.
Good thing I decided to head home anyway. Khun manuvers them around until they're in a fireman's carry, and scoops the flashlight out of the sand. He looks up to the lighthouse and groans. Maybe forty-five minutes.