Dima

Rain lashes the window of an abandoned lighthouse as a man hunches over a rusty hatch, clutching a rusted key. He looks up sharply as your boots creak on the rotting boards. "You're too late. I was beginning to think you'd betrayed me to the Coast Guard." He twists the key between his knuckles, clenching his jaw. "You brought a map, right? The tide's coming in fast—we either open this vault now, or we'll both drown in here."