A girl stood on the cliff’s edge, her delicate frame wrapped in a soaked white dress, trembling under the relentless assault of wind and rain. The gusts whipped her face with stinging force, each blast feeling like a sharper slap than the last.
Her wet hair clung to her in chaotic strands, falling messily around her shoulders. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings. Below, the sea churned violently, frothing with rage as waves crashed against jagged rocks that jutted from the earth like monstrous figures. The water had turned dark and murky, a mirror to the storm’s fury.
So high up, the height was dizzying. Yet the girl showed no fear. Just a little longer, and it would all be over—she would vanish forever, and with her, the pain would finally cease.
“Stop!” a voice suddenly pierced the storm, sounding as if it came from another world.
To her right, a guy appeared like a ghost materializing from the mist. Before she could react, he grabbed her hand with a firm grip and yanked her back, pulling her away with determined force.
The weather was worsening by the second. The wind howled with ferocious power, threatening to sweep away everything in its path. Seagulls circled nervously above the water, their shrill cries warning of the approaching storm.
The sky was swallowed by ominous thunderclouds. A flash of lightning split the darkness, followed by a second, then a third… Reflecting on the water’s surface like a mirror, the bolts seemed endless. The world surrendered to the elements, plunging into shadow one moment and bursting into light the next. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Heavy raindrops began to fall, striking the ground with weighty force. There was something primal, almost magical, in the raw power of nature unfolding before them.
On the beach, there were only the two of them. Phoenix Cove wasn’t a popular spot even on calmer days, thanks to its deep waters, rocky bottom, and undeveloped shoreline. Today, the place was utterly deserted.
“Hurry, the wind’s picking up! One more minute, and the path will be washed out—we’ll be trapped!”
But the girl didn’t care about the chaos around her. Even if the earth itself split apart, it wouldn’t matter to her. Still, she followed the stranger obediently, her steps heavy with resignation.
The descent was grueling. The narrow trail snaked downward in tight, winding loops, often leading them into thorny thickets. Sharp brambles scratched at their skin, tore at their clothes, and left stinging cuts on their bodies. The path had turned to sludge, a slippery mix of mud and sand that clung to their feet, making every step a struggle.
Finally, they reached the bottom, where the raging sea awaited. Furious waves slammed into them, threatening to drag them into the abyss. Their only refuge was a lone tree standing near the water’s edge, its thick canopy and sprawling branches offering some shelter. Even so, it bowed low under the wind’s might. The guy and the girl clung to its branches, pressing their bodies against the trunk, but holding on grew harder by the second. Their strength was fading fast.
“We can’t stay here long!” the stranger shouted over the storm. “We’ve gotta keep moving! Listen to me! I’ll give the signal!”
The rain fell in sheets, a blinding wall of water. Though the guy knew this area like the back of his hand, even he had lost his bearings in the chaos.
“Over there!” he yelled, pointing toward a faint light in the distance that flickered in and out of view.
“Head for the lighthouse! We’ll be safe there. One, two—go!”
In an instant, they were wading through the water. The guy tightened his grip on her hand. The sea rose to their knees and kept climbing, the strong current making every step a battle.
They pushed forward as fast as they could, but the hurricane refused to let its prey escape. They stumbled, fell, got back up, only to be knocked down again into the swirling depths. At last, the light grew closer, and the faint outline of an old lighthouse came into view.
Built in medieval times to guide ships through treacherous waters, the lighthouse still stood as a silent guardian of the deep, though its purpose had long faded. Its walls were cracked and weathered, desperately in need of major repairs.
Getting inside was easy—there were no front doors. Someone had removed them long ago, and the local authorities hadn’t bothered to replace them. The interior was freezing, prompting the guy to bark an order to head upstairs.
The wooden stairs were in terrible shape, with rotting planks that could collapse at any moment. The walls had gaping holes, resembling portholes. Their only shelter was a small room on the second floor with a shattered window, its original purpose long forgotten.
“At least it’s dry in here,” the guy muttered, squinting to make out anything in the dim light.
“And dark,” the girl grumbled under her breath.
“We’ll fix that,” he said, switching on the flashlight on his phone and shining it across the walls.
The tiny room was bare, devoid of any furniture—though none was needed. Old fishing gear and dried leaves littered the floor. In one corner, broken glass and empty bottles were piled up.
“We’ve got enough to start a fire. Gotta warm up,” he said.
The guy got to work, ignoring the girl for the moment. She struck him as odd, detached from everything. Part of him wanted to shake her out of her daze, snap her back to reality.
Quickly gathering some kindling—thankfully, there was plenty around—he pulled a lighter from his pocket and got a small fire going.
The girl stood silently, her gaze fixed on the flickering flames, almost mesmerized. The guy broke the quiet, sitting by the fire to warm his hands.
“What’s your name?” he asked, cutting through the silence.
“Mine?”
“Who else? It’s just us here. Plus, with this storm raging, we’re stuck for a few hours at least. Might as well get to know each other.”
“Daryna. Dasha,” she mumbled.
“Well, Daryna-Dasha, nice to meet you. I’m Max,” he said with a playful glint in his eyes. “Now, take off your clothes.”
“What?!” She stepped back, instinctively reaching for something heavy to swing at this creep.
Max burst out laughing.
“Just kidding, relax! In movies, they always take off wet clothes and dry them by the fire. I’ve always wanted to say that line. And here’s my chance.”
He grinned, clearly amused by her reaction.
“Don’t even think about it! This isn’t a movie. And don’t you dare strip either,” she warned. “Just so you know, I’m a black belt in karate.”
“I believe you,” he said with a wink, eyeing her slender, almost translucent figure.
The fire flared brighter, casting enough light to warm them and let them get a better look at each other. Max was tall, with a lean face and dark hair. He looked no older than twenty. Not exactly a heartthrob, but attractive in his own way—his toned, muscular build gave him a rugged edge, and his bright, white smile added a touch of charm. He wore dark knee-length shorts and a green T-shirt with some obscure graphic. On his feet were plain sneakers. The only thing that stood out was a tattoo on his shoulder, though part of it was hidden under his shirt, making it impossible to tell what it depicted.
“Daryna, why were you about to jump? Tired of living?”
“Nobody asked you to save me. Some guardian angel you are!”
“Are you always this prickly?” Max pressed. “Or is this a touchy subject?”
“Always!” she hissed, turning away from him.
“Alright, athletes are mysterious types, I get it.”
“And you, Max, do you always stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, or is that your special talent?”
“Always!” he replied with a good-natured smile, completely disarming her.
That was the end of their first real conversation. They sat in silence, warming themselves by the fire. They had no common ground, and neither felt like talking. But the quiet wasn’t uncomfortable. Each was lost in their own thoughts, far away from this place, with only the occasional rumble of thunder breaking the stillness. Eventually, even that faded, and with it, the rain stopped. The storm was finally dying down.
Max glanced at his watch—it was well past midnight. Then he looked at the girl, who had fallen asleep with her hand tucked under her head. In sleep, she looked even more fragile, almost vulnerable. Her thick chestnut hair spilled over her shoulders, a few strands falling across her face. He felt an urge to brush them aside, to get a better look at her pretty features. His gaze lingered on her full, slightly parted lips. Honestly, it only took him a few seconds to size up her appearance. Years of “practice” hadn’t gone to waste. And he concluded with certainty that this girl was “not bad at all.”
“Hey, sleeping beauty, time to wake up,” he said, giving her shoulder a gentle tap.
Dasha opened her eyes, blinking for a moment as she tried to remember where she was.
“The storm’s over. We can head out. Congrats, you slept through the whole apocalypse.”
Dasha stood up. Her dress had mostly dried, though it had gone from white to a muddy brown. In one spot, it had torn, creating a high slit. Catching Max’s curious glance, she felt a flicker of embarrassment but pretended not to notice as she walked on.
Max just smirked.
The fire had burned out, leaving the inside of the lighthouse damp and cold. Dasha felt a shiver run through her body.
“Hold on a sec…” Max said, draping his jacket over her shoulders.
Suddenly, a raspy cough echoed behind them.
“Got a smoke?” In the dim light, they saw the silhouette of a man staggering toward them, leaning against the walls for support.
He reeked, clutching a half-empty bottle of cheap booze in his hand.
“Hey, sweetheart, wanna keep me company? Haven’t seen a pretty thing like you in ages.”
Not noticing Max in the shadows, the man lurched forward toward Dasha.
Out of nowhere, Max stepped in, shoving the stranger hard in the shoulder. The man stumbled back, crashing into the concrete wall.
“How about keeping me company instead?! Get lost, you creep!” Max shouted after him.
Finally, they left the old lighthouse behind. After walking a few yards, Dasha stopped, staring into Max’s eyes. Her gaze was intense, piercing, as if trying to see straight into his soul.
“What?” Max asked, unable to stand the silence.
“You could’ve hurt him. Or worse, killed him.”
Max’s face showed genuine surprise.
“Dasha, do you have any idea what he could’ve done to you?”
“You don’t know that.”
“Sorry, I didn’t feel like waiting to find out. Should I have politely asked that scumbag to leave?”
“I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me.”
“Don’t worry, the only thing he’ll suffer from is a nasty hangover in the morning.”