The Last Instrument of Elias Thorne

Elias lived in a lighthouse on the edge of the Obsidian Sea. This was a place where the worlds geography gave up. The Obsidian Sea wasn't water; it was a thick black moving shadow that went to a horizon that no ship had ever reached.

* The air tasted of metal and old regrets.

* The lighthouse was a white stone tower. It stood out against the dark. Elias was the only person taking care of it.

He was a man. His skin was like paper and his hands were rough from polishing a big round glass at the top of the tower for many years.

The light from the lighthouse wasn't for ships. There were no ships in the Obsidian Sea. The light was for shadows. The ones that were forgotten.

Every night, when the moon. A broken circle. Rose over the black water the horizon started to shimmer. Shadows began to come out moving to the shore like smoke.

These were the lost people from other cities. They were people who had been thrown out who had been against the ruling machines and whose names had been erased from the Great Ledger.

Elias watched them. He shone a light so they would know he saw them.

"I see you " he whispered as shadows passed under his railing. Their shapes flickered in the light.

He was a man and very lonely. His life was controlled by the lighthouse clock. He cleaned the glass in the mornings. He read his journals in the afternoons. At night he watched the steady line of lost people.

He knew he was the one like him. He was from a time when people thought every life mattered.

One night a huge storm of sadness swept across the Obsidian Sea. It made big waves of shadows hit the lighthouse. The tower shook. The light flickered.

Elias stood in the room. He held the handle that turned the light. He could hear the ghosts. They weren't just passing by; they were calling out.

For the time he could hear their voices. He heard a childs laughter. He heard someone breathe before saying sorry. He heard a heartbeat that had stopped soon.

"You're fading " Elias whispered. He looked at the glass. It was old and cloudy. The light was getting dim.

He knew what to do. The light needed a lot of energy to cut through the storm. It needed something from him. A memory.

He sat on the floor. Opened his journal. He looked at the faces of people he had known. He stopped at a flower. A piece of lavender from his mothers garden.

If he used it he would forget his past. He would become a shadow like the ones he watched.

"Is it worth it?" he asked.

The voices outside grew louder. They were being erased. If the light failed they would disappear.

Elias didn't wait. He put the lavender in the lantern. He turned on the emergency power.

The light exploded. It was a golden beam that cut through the storm. The shadows stopped drifting. They straightened. They looked up at Elias.

One by one they turned to the horizon. They weren't lost anymore. They marched across the water. Their shapes glowed as they went into the unknown.

Elias leaned on the railing. He breathed hard. The light went back to normal. He looked at his hands. He didn't know why they shook.

He looked at his journal. The names meant nothing to him.

He was alone. The sea was calm. The storm and ghosts were gone.

He turned the handle. The light kept moving. He didn't know who he was or why he was there.. He knew one thing. He took care of the light.

As the moon rose again he watched the horizon. He waited. He didn't know for what. He kept the light burning. The lighthouse stood. It was a witness, to a history that no one else knew. Its beam cut through the dark. It ensured that even if the world forgot the light would remember.