They decided Jared would be the one to face their questions, and the lighthouse became the place for it.
From where he stood, he could see how its walls cracked, its metal bones groaning with every gust of sea wind.
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He looked down at his hands, the faintest tremor in his fingers. "It wasn't about deceit. It was about giving the dead and the missing what little peace we could. (...)
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Each night, when the fire dimmed and the forest pressed close, the whispers began again.
Who really knows what caused the crash?
Why had some of the passengers been found dead or never been found?
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