The knock came just before dawn.
Not loud.Not urgent.Three measured taps—polite, patient—on the lighthouse door.
Elara paused midway up the stairs, listening. Few people came here anymore, and fewer still at that hour. The sea was calm, the beam steady. Whatever waited outside had chosen its moment carefully.
She descended and opened the door.
A young woman stood there, soaked with fog, eyes rimmed red from sleeplessness. She carried no bag, no coat—only a folded chart clutched tight to her chest.
"I'm sorry," the woman said quickly, voice shaking. "I didn't know where else to go."
Elara studied her—then stepped aside."Come in."
Inside, the warmth of the tower settled around them. The woman's gaze lifted instinctively toward the light, as if it tugged at something in her bones.
"My name is Mira," she said. "I hear things when the tide turns. Names. Warnings." She hesitated. "They started after I was pulled from the water."
Elara felt the familiar tightening in her chest.
"How long were you under?" she asked.
"Long enough," Mira replied. "Long enough that everyone says I shouldn't be here."
Elara nodded."They're usually right."
Mira swallowed. "I don't want it to follow me. I don't want to owe it anything."
The beam swept across the sea. Far out, the water darkened for a heartbeat—then smoothed.
Elara reached into her pocket and withdrew the iron ring. It was duller now, its etchings softened by time. She placed it on the table between them.
"You hear the knock," Elara said quietly. "That means the sea remembers you."
Mira stared at the ring. "What do I do?"
Elara met her eyes."You learn to listen without answering."
They climbed together to the lantern room as the sky lightened. Elara showed her the gears, the lens, the places where salt always gathered first. She taught her how to feel the tower's mood by touch, how to tell the difference between weather and warning.
By sunrise, the fog thinned. The sea looked ordinary again.
Mira exhaled, steadier now."I can help," she said. "I want to."
Elara watched the horizon, then nodded once.
"Stay awhile," she said. "We'll see if the light agrees."
The beam passed over them, unwavering.
For the first time in years, Elara felt the tower ease—not with relief, but with recognition.
Outside, the tide turned.
And somewhere beneath the waves, a memory shifted—not claiming,not calling,only watching.