The beach stretched its way like a long pointing finger, where at the nails end, the lighthouse stood. The morning mist surrounded the white tower as the sun struggled to cut through it as it rose. The beacon was off, as no ships had approached this island for centuries. But that would change come daylight.

Waves shivered as the ocean breeze came over them, as if they could feel the cold as well as any man. Nearby gulls cried, and distant brown seals were floating shadows that floated like buoys. Shadow from a large rock gate was as dark as an oil spill, and nearby on a pointed pillar of stone and grass black seabirds settled in flocks.

The bowhead cut through the deep mist, a set of three green sawtooth eels twisted around each other before their heads protruded out. The ship churned the waves as the chop hammered against the stern. The sails were massive and of pure ivory color and signaled that the vessel was comparatively massive. It moved slowly revealing itself through the windows where the sunlight managed to pierce through. No flags were hoisted. Nothing to designate it to any kingdom nor merchant's guild.

Closer the ship moved through the fog. And more and more the sunlight tried to break through. But despite no clarity, it somehow steered away from the rock formations, it passed the gate, and rounded the pillar with ease, turning to just miss the clusters of stone islands and circles. The lighthouse was dead, it offered no aid, it merely stood as its stone brick surface was coated with spray.

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The ship had halted its approach just short of the shallow water. That it had dropped anchor would be the assumption. But it would be wrong.

It sat on the waters without movement. Then the lighthouse began to shake, bricks loosening, dust and dirt falling from the balcony. The lamp inside shattered, but something glowed within its place. A globe of bright yellow radiance glared with more intensity than a summer days' sun.

The ship merely stood still as if watching. The deck was empty, as was the crow's nest, and the masts, and whoever searched the ship would find the cabins, storerooms and the captain's quarters as well. The eels appeared as if they looked on, but they were merely a carven bust, an art piece.

There was a rumble, then the lighthouse began to uproot itself, as if it were a great tree being pulled by teams of lumberjacks. It lifted up from the ground, rock and soil falling into the remaining crater as the earthworms struggled to move about.

Tilting to its side slowly like a cannon, it floated towards the ocean, and to the ship casting a shadow below it, until it stilled above the deck and was lowered slowly onto metal latches and ropes that sprang into action, wrapping the building. In an unlikely hood the ship didn't sink, rather it carried the weight. Turning about like a compass point, it headed off back into the mist.