Who is Morrick?
One entry described a quiet structure near the edge of the sea — with no flag, no visitors, and no reason to be found.Another mentioned a man known only as“A. Morrick.”The rest of the name was missing.
No one seemed to remember when he arrived.The journals simply began mentioning him one day — beside the sea, beside a fire, always alone.And then, slowly, the entries began to mention crates.
They arrived after storms.Broken free from ships lost somewhere beyond the mist, they drifted ashore after days at sea — softened by saltwater and sun.Some held green coffee beans.Some held letters never delivered.Some held nothing at all.
Morrick never seemed surprised by them.He rarely wrote about where they came from.Though now and then, the journals hinted he wondered more than he admitted.He simply roasted what arrived — slowly, over coals and lanternlight — as though the sea had already decided they belonged there.
It was said that he lit the lantern beside the Keep each evening.He never wrote directly about why.But some pages made it seem as though he believed the sea would notice its absence.As though the light was a way of saying:I’m still here.
The journals never mentioned recipes.Only impressions.“Stayed longer than expected.”“The darker roast felt quieter.”“Should thank her for bringing this ashore.”Many pages ended unfinished.
Some names seemed to stay with him:Mysterious Gift.Tide’s Reach.Lower Step.It is unclear whether he meant to name the coffees,or simply remember where the sea had left them behind.
And long after the Keep had fallen to the sea,a rusted tin box was reportedly found buried near the coast.Inside was a single roasted bean, wrapped beside a small handwritten note.
“I asked for nothing but peace.The sea answered with warmth.If this bean found you,perhaps you’re searching for the same thing I once was.”— The Keeper
