"John! This storm is hammering the harbour, Ross and I are going to secure the crane. If we don't come back in a few hours," There was a lengthy pause.

"Consider us dead..." Harry finished before quickly putting on his oilskins.

"Hey be a little positive for once, th-" Ross exclaimed before he was interrupted by the furious sound of thunder rumbling.

"You get the idea," He mumbled, as he looked away before reaching the door.

"We should get going. Every second wasted is an inch closer to danger." He opened the door and quickly with Harry, hurried further and further away from the last safe place on this godforsaken island. Or was it really, 'safe?'...

While the two men suffered the lashing rain, John had climbed the ladder to the top of the lighthouse, his face full of worry.

Looking through the glass, John looked at the distant cliffs and followed their edge to the harbour. As he did so, he thought he saw a glimpse of red and a vast shadow covering the island. His eyes snapped to where he glimpsed such a thing, but there was nothing to be found there. Just the distant sight of waves crashing against the tall borders of the island.

"It was just the world playing tricks on me," He reassured himself as he began to look around the machines, giving maintenance where it was needed, the atmosphere cold and silent, the unfinished food below leaving a sombre tone.

Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by its loud crash. There is a saying, strike before you're known to the world. Or, in consideration to the stormy weather, that night, lightning striking their hammer down heavily upon this land before it was heard.

And on this dark, gloomy night, the church bells would ring as ravens cawed till their heart's content.