Across the black water, the old lighthouse blinked twice. Then it went dark. Mara stood on the dock and stared. That light had no business working. The town said no one had unlocked the lighthouse door in over forty years, and no one had climbed up to light the lamp. Yet there it was, flashing. Mara grabbed her flashlight and her coat. She had to know who, or what, was up there.

Mara took the rowboat tied at the dock and pushed off toward the lighthouse rock. The water was calm and the oars barely splashed. Halfway across, the light flashed twice again, like it was answering her. She rowed faster.

As Mara reached the rock, her oar bumped a small wooden boat much older than hers, with a lantern still hanging from its bow. The lantern was warm. She climbed up the steps following the lantern's owner and pushed open the door at the top.