The guardian and the captain

The Tower of Hercules had been lit for over forty winters without rest.

Its light rotated slowly, constantly, like the heart of the man who cared for it: Ramiro de la Luz, a lighthouse keeper with a white beard and tired eyes from gazing at horizons that never brought return.

He lived alone in the stone cabin next to the promontory, where the wind was his only voice and the sea, his only company.

One stormy night, the roar of the Atlantic changed.

Between lightning flashes, a torn sail appeared among the waves: a small, half-submerged ship.

Ramiro descended the cliffs and found among the wreckage a young man, unconscious, wearing a captain's uniform.

His name was Néstor Alborán, a sailor without a port, wandering between coasts and promises he always left behind.

When Néstor awoke, the tower was still rotating.

The old man offered him refuge, hot soup, and silence.

For days, the sea continued to roar... and they learned to share it.

The lighthouse keeper told him about the eternal mechanism of the lantern, whose light never rested for a moment:

—"It's not made to guide ships," —Ramiro said one night, as the lamp rotated above them— "but to remember those who don't return."

Néstor smiled with sadness.

—"Then guide me. I never had a place to return to."

The moons passed, and calm returned.

The captain repaired his ship, but the tower had changed him.

Every night, he would go up with Ramiro to the lantern; together, they would watch how the light slid over the sea, and for a moment, the world seemed less empty.

One windless dawn, when the lantern rotated for the last time, Ramiro was no longer there.

Only his coat remained, hanging, and the tower was still lit.

Néstor understood, without tears, that the light now belonged to him.

Since then, the Tower of Hercules continues to shine —not for the ships, nor for those who return, but for those who still seek their way.

And when the fog rolls in over the coast, fishermen swear they see two figures at the top of the promontory:

one with a white beard, the other with a young gaze... both rotating with the light, waiting for dawn.