I picture it as a sprawling maze of stone pillars, each carved with ancient runes, the lighthouse itself a towering spire of translucent crystal that refracts whatever light it can gather from the surface. It would glow like a faint star swallowed by the abyss, a steady pulse that sailors could see from miles away, a reminder that even in the darkest trenches hope can still find a way to shine. I’d love to map its currents and see if the crystal still holds its light after all these centuries.