Alba squinted toward the water lapping against the rocks, surprising even himself when he smiled at the sight of a white moon-spot floating above the surface. It gazed back at him, just long enough to confirm Alba was up and alive, before plunking back down under again. Why did that make Alba chuckle? Why did his smile remain half-quirked all the way to the lighthouse door, all the way up the winding stairs with his cane in one hand and a book in the other? He must be going mad.
