Chapter 11: The North Star**
Inside the brass casing of the compass was a tiny micro-SD card and a hand-drawn map of an olive grove on the island of Corsica.
Underneath the map was a single handwritten line: *“Where the trees meet the sea, the lighthouse keeper always leaves a lamp burning.”*
Camille walked out to the terrace where Marcus was cleaning his reading glasses.
"We need to go to Corsica," she said.
Marcus looked up, studying her determined expression. "Camille, the authorities believe Arthur went down with his vehicle in the ravine near Chamonix. The wreckage was burned."
"They found a car," Camille countered, handing him the compass casing. "They didn't find him. He wouldn't leave a puzzle he didn't intend for me to solve."
Marcus inspected the intricate micro-engravings inside the brass lid. A slow, knowing smile crept across his weathered face.
"The stubborn old fox," Marcus chuckled under his breath. "He used the old partisan escape corridor through Toulon."
"Can we go?" Camille asked, her eyes burning with pure resolve.
May you like
"Pack your bag, kid," Marcus stood up, tossing his car keys into the air and catching them. "The ferry to Bastia leaves at sunset."
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