On a jagged island in the Baltic Sea stands the Tower of Dago, a beacon for the damned. Captain Feodor von Ungern was once a man of honor until his brother Zeno's betrayal stripped him of everything: his name, his honor, his place in the world. Now he lurks in the tower's shadow, lighting false signals to lure innocent ships onto the rocks, feeding his vengeance with the blood of strangers. But the cruelty doesn't end with him. His son Alexander and Zeno's son Paul are drawn into the dark current of their fathers' hatred, two young men shaped by rage they never chose. Jókai weaves a Victorian Gothic masterpiece about how betrayal breeds betrayal, how a wounded heart can poison generations. The prose burns with Baltic storms and cold fury. This is not a tale of redemption but of its tragic impossibility. For readers who savor the moral darkness of Frankenstein, the maritime dread of Typee, the family curses of Russian literature.
