The envelope showed up on a Tuesday, sea-blue and soft at the corners. The handwriting belonged to Theo, Mara's best friend from when she was eleven. Twenty years of silence, and now one line inside: "I found the map of Saltreach in my mom's attic. The lighthouse is still unfinished. Want to build it?" Mara sat down hard and read it three more times.

Mara grabbed her phone before she could talk herself out of it. The number on the back rang twice. "You actually called," Theo said, like he'd been holding his breath for days. "Saturday. Meet me at the old dock. Bring boots." Mara laughed for the first time in weeks and said yes.

Saturday, the dock smelled exactly like she remembered. Theo was already there, older but grinning the same crooked way. He rolled out a yellowed map weighted with stones. "Half the supplies are still in my uncle's barn," he said. "Stone, timber, even the old lamp. We just need hands and a few weeks." Mara traced the penciled lighthouse and felt eleven again.

Halfway through the build, Mara noticed Theo wincing every time he lifted a stone. She finally cornered him. "My back's not what it was," he admitted, "and I'm out of savings." Mara looked at the half-finished tower and made a decision. "Then we don't do this alone. Tomorrow we ask the whole town."

The next morning they hung a hand-painted sign in the village square: "Lighthouse Build — All Hands Welcome." By noon a dozen people showed up with gloves and ladders. By the weekend it was the whole town. When the lamp finally lit, no one could say it belonged to just Mara and Theo anymore. It belonged to all of Saltreach.