It was a lighthouse standing where none should ever be.
Perched upon a lonely spire of rock upon the highest peak in the mountains, the lighthouse was fashioned from massive blocks of pale granite with a conical roof of slate shingles. Diamond-paned windows of plate glass encircled the upper story of the building while below them was a wooden balcony with a weathered brass rail decorated with elaborate scrollwork depicting whales and dolphins, turned green with age.
Old as time, the lighthouse somehow appeared to have been there since ships first sailed the sea, cast upon the beach of a long-dead ocean whose waters had receded to a distant shore.
"What is a lighthouse doing up here?" Sam asked.
"Behold the Light at the End of the World," Sir Spindle replied. "It warns sky ships away from the edge of the world, and calls back the souls of Faerie Folk who have become lost among the stars."
"...and what are we doing here?" Alice inquired.
"The Valley of the Speaking Stones is located near the Heart of Faerie, and it would take us weeks--if not months--to travel there on foot. If we can catch a sky ship, the journey will take but a week or two."
Sam shook his head in wonder and disbelief.
"Flying ships... mountains at the edge of the world... dragons... valkyries... talking boulders... pagan gods... how did my life get so interesting all of a sudden?"