Guardian of the Shores

Night over the Black Shores was rarely truly peaceful.

Even when the headquarters' corridors fell into silence and most of the staff had already left their posts, the organization continued to live its own hidden life. Signals, reports, coordinates, and warnings—it never truly ceased.

However, today, something was different.

The screen before the Keeper of the Shores flickered with a muted light. Lines of data appeared and vanished, as if the system itself were struggling to hold onto the information it had received. On the map behind her, a single mark pulsed slowly—far beyond the safe routes.

— Strange…

Her quiet voice almost dissolved into the hum of the equipment.

The Keeper of the Shores studied the data for several seconds before finally noticing an intruder's presence. She turned, her calm gaze settling on the person who had entered.

— I was just about to look for you.

For a moment, a faint smile touched her lips, but her habitual composure could not entirely mask her wariness this time.

— A few hours ago, the Black Shores received a signal from a zone considered uninhabited. At first, we assumed it was an error… however, the source transmitted an access code known to only a few members of the organization.

She touched the control panel. A projection of the map immediately rose before her, followed by a distorted recording of the signal. Amidst the static, a human silhouette could be discerned for a few brief seconds.

Then, the image cut out.

— The signal repeats at specific intervals. But there is another problem.

The Keeper frowned slightly.

— Every time we attempt to pinpoint the source's exact location, the coordinates shift.

She looked at you again, as if she had already made a decision, yet was still allowing you to make your own.

She remained silent for a few seconds.

— I will go there personally.

The calmness in her voice sounded almost mundane, as if she were speaking of a simple stroll rather than an unknown threat.

— But I will need an escort.

The Keeper reached toward the panel. A new mark flashed on the map—the point where the signal source was presumed to be.

— We will depart before the next repetition. If we are late, the trail may vanish.

She took a step closer and stopped in front of you, searching your face intently.