Claimed by the Tentacle God

He inherited a lighthouse.

He didn’t expect it to be alive.

When a man retreats to an abandoned lighthouse on a desolate coastline, he expects silence and solitude. Instead, he finds something ancient beneath the cliffs; something that remembers his bloodline and has been waiting for his return.

Each night, the tower pulses with heat. The cellar hums with rhythm. A sealed hatch draws him downward, stripping away reason and resistance alike.

In a chamber carved into living stone, he is touched, marked, and claimed. His body responds to what should be impossible: slick ritual, overwhelming pleasure, and a bond older than civilization itself.

This is no haunting.

It is a rite of devotion.

And inheritance was never the point. Sacrifice was.