Audio is streamed directly from the publisher (static1.squarespace.com) as published in their RSS feed. Play Podcasts does not host this file. Rights-holders can request removal through the copyright & takedown page.
Show Notes
Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!
Welcome to A Bedtime Story. I'm Matthew Mitchell, and tonight's story is titled The Cavern of Whispering Maps, Part 2 of this week's series: The Lighthouse Keepers of Lunar Bay.
The abandoned mine shaft was everything Silas had warned her it would be: a rusted, skeletal structure clinging to the cliff face, surrounded by tangled weeds and the mournful sound of wind whistling through broken supports. It was the "deep" of Lunar Bay, and June was certain it held the first piece of the puzzle.
She brought a powerful, battery-operated lantern and a coil of rope. The mine entrance was just a black, wet maw in the rock. The air that rushed out tasted of damp earth and decay. Taking a deep breath, June tied the rope securely to a piece of old machinery and descended.
The shaft sloped steeply downward, the walls slick with mineral-rich water. After about twenty minutes of careful climbing, she found herself in a large, echoing cavern. Her lantern beam swept over the space, revealing not mining equipment, but something far stranger.
The cavern wasn't natural. Its walls were flat and polished smooth, and across their entire surface, illuminated by the faint glow of luminescent moss, were carvings—thousands of them. They weren't graffiti or geological markings; they were intricate, almost magical maps. They depicted not only the coastline of Lunar Bay but star charts, orbital paths of distant moons, and complex, impossible-looking architectural blueprints for towers that looked remarkably like the Lighthouse. It was a repository of secret knowledge, a map room hidden beneath the earth.
In the center of the cavern, she saw a slight disturbance—a small, freshly turned pile of earth and stone. Kneeling, June carefully cleared the debris. Beneath it, resting on a flat slab of rock, was a second wooden raven, identical to the first. It held not a note, but a single, brittle, black feather.
As June reached for the feather, a dry, raspy voice echoed in the cavern, seeming to come from the walls themselves. “Always a Delphine. Always snooping where you shouldn’t be.”
June spun around, holding her lantern up. Standing in the shadows was an old woman, frail-looking but with eyes that sparkled with sharp, unsettling intelligence. She wore a coat that seemed woven from dark seaweed and her silver hair was knotted with tiny, colorful shells. She carried a walking stick carved in the shape of a twisting branch.
“Who are you?” June demanded, her heart hammering but her voice steady.
“I am only the caretaker of the maps,” the woman said, stepping closer. “My name is Theodora. Your grandfather knows me. He knows these maps. He knows what he protects.” She tapped a section of the wall map with her stick, pointing to the Lunar Bay Lighthouse. “The Spark is not just a light, little June. It is the focus point for the energy of the moons. It keeps the currents steady, the storms at bay, and the unwanted things in the deep asleep. It is the key to Lunar Bay’s quiet charm.”
“Then why is it gone? Did you take it?” June asked, clutching the wooden raven.
Theodora smiled, a thin, humourless curve of her lips. “Of course not. But I know who did. Do you see the tower here?” She pointed to a blueprint carved high on the wall—a tower even taller and more elaborate than the Lunar Bay Lighthouse. “That is the Pinnacle of Aurum. It was built centuries ago by the first Keeper, a man who grew weary of merely guiding and wished to control the power of the moons. Silas's Spark was stolen by a man named Elias, a disgruntled student of your grandfather’s, who is trying to reactivate that old, failed tower to draw the moon energy for himself.”
“Where is this Pinnacle?” June asked, urgency sharpening her tone.
Theodora pointed the carved stick straight up. “The second feather points toward the high. The Pinnacle of Aurum stands on the peak of Mount Cerulean, the tallest mountain this side of the continent. Elias believes he can focus the Spark there to harness the energy and become… well, whatever it is megalomaniacs call themselves these days. Your grandfather is being held there, a prisoner until Elias learns the final focusing ritual from him.”
June looked at the black feather in her hand. It seemed to pulse faintly. Theodora had given her the information, but the sheer distance was daunting—Mount Cerulean was a two-day drive away.
“The raven feather,” Theodora whispered, her eyes suddenly gleaming with a kind of wild amusement. “Hold it tight, think of the height, and trust the old paths. You may find that your grandfather's lessons were about more than just maintaining a lamp.”
June looked from the feather, to the unsettling map-filled cavern, to the distant, impossibly tall mountain she could practically feel looming over the horizon. She had a new destination, an arch-villain with a silly name, and a magical feather. She knew what she had to do next.