Mara’s boots crunched over gravel as she climbed the hill, the wind tugging at her jacket like a desperate hand. The lighthouse stood ahead, its white stone weathered to a dull gray, the glass of its dome shattered in places. She’d never seen it from this angle before—when her father disappeared, the town had kept the area sealed, rumors swirling like the fog that rolled in each night. Now, with her mother’s job forcing them to stay through the summer, Mara had found a gap in the chain-link fence and slipped through.
The air smelled of salt and decay. A gull screeched overhead, and Mara paused, her breath visible in the chill. She’d always hated this town, with its sideways glances and whispered stories about her father’s disappearance. But something about the lighthouse called to her, a pull she couldn’t name. She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the cold stone. A crack ran down the base, wide enough for a hand to fit. She pressed against it, feeling the rough edge bite into her palm.
“You shouldn’t be here.” The voice was low, edged with warning. Mara spun around, heart hammering. A boy stood at the edge of the clearing, his dark hair tousled by the wind. He wore a faded hoodie, jeans frayed at the knees. “This place is dangerous,” he said, stepping forward. His eyes were the color of storm clouds, unreadable.
“Who are you?” Mara asked, her voice steadier than she felt.
“Jace.” He tilted his head, studying her. “You’re the new girl. The one who’s staying with Mrs. Hale.”
She nodded, but didn’t relax. “Why’s it dangerous?”
Jace glanced at the lighthouse, then back at her. “People don’t just vanish here. They’re… forgotten.” He hesitated, as if weighing something. “You shouldn’t be alone out here.”
Mara bristled. “I’m not a child.”
“No,” he said quietly. “But you’re reckless.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but the wind howled, snatching the words away. Jace turned, heading back down the hill. “If you’re looking for answers, stay out of the tower.”
Mara watched him go, her pulse still racing. She didn’t believe in ghosts or curses, but something about his warning stuck. She turned back to the lighthouse, her hand still pressed against the crack. The stone was warm beneath her fingers, as if the building itself was alive.
—
The tower’s interior was a maze of rusted metal and dust. Mara’s flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing peeling paint and broken stairs. She climbed cautiously, each step creaking under her weight. The air thickened as she went higher, carrying the scent of old wood and something sharper—metal, maybe, or decay. At the top, the door swung open with a groan, revealing a small room littered with debris. A desk sat in the corner, its surface covered in scribbles. Mara approached, her breath catching as she recognized the handwriting.
Her father’s.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” the note read. “The light isn’t just a signal. It’s a key. But I can’t trust anyone. They’re watching.”
Mara’s hands shook. She flipped through the pages, finding more notes, diagrams of the lighthouse, and a single phrase repeated over and over: “The tide doesn’t lie.”
A sound echoed from below—footsteps. Mara froze, her flashlight beam trembling. She heard the door creak again, then a voice, low and calm. “You shouldn’t have come here.”
She spun around, heart slamming against her ribs. Jace stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with.”
“Then explain it to me,” Mara demanded.
Jace exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “This place isn’t just a lighthouse. It’s a vault. My family has protected it for generations. Your father… he thought he could control it.”
“Control what?”
“The tide.” He gestured to the window, where the sea churned below. “It’s not just water. It’s a force, one that can’t be harnessed. Your father tried, and he paid the price.”
Mara’s mind raced. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.” Jace’s voice was calm, but there was something else beneath it—pain, maybe. “You want answers? Follow the tide. But be careful where it leads.”
He turned and left, leaving Mara alone with the weight of his words. She looked down at the notes, her father’s frantic scrawl etched into her memory. The tide didn’t lie. But what did it mean? And why had her father tried to control it?
—
The next night, Mara returned, the moon casting silver light over the cliffs. She followed the tide’s path, tracing the water’s edge until she reached a hidden cove. The waves lapped at her ankles as she stepped forward, the air thick with the scent of brine and something older—like earth after a storm. A stone archway emerged from the darkness, its surface covered in symbols that pulsed faintly in the moonlight.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Jace’s voice echoed from the shadows.
Mara turned, her flashlight trembling. “I need to know the truth.”
He stepped into the light, his expression unreadable. “The tide isn’t just water. It’s a bridge. And your father… he opened it.”
“Opened what?”
“A door. One that shouldn’t be opened.” Jace’s voice was steady, but there was an edge to it now. “The lighthouse wasn’t built to guide ships. It was built to keep something out.”
Mara’s breath caught. “What?”
“A force. Something older than the town, older than the sea. Your father thought he could harness it, but he didn’t understand the cost.”
She stared at him, her mind racing. “Then why are you here? Why not let it stay buried?”
Jace’s jaw tightened. “Because I have to stop it. And I can’t do it alone.”
The waves surged, and Mara felt a vibration in the ground beneath her feet. The symbols on the archway flared, casting jagged shadows across the cove. Jace grabbed her hand, his grip firm. “We don’t have much time.”
The tide rose, and the sea answered.
—
The lighthouse trembled as the tide surged higher, water rushing through the cracks in the stone. Mara and Jace ran through the tower, their footsteps echoing in the narrow stairwell. The air was thick with the scent of salt and something else—burning wood, maybe, or metal. At the top, they found the control room, a circular space with a massive lever in the center.
“This is it,” Jace said, his voice tight. “The tide’s coming through. If we don’t shut it down, it’ll flood the town.”
Mara’s hands shook as she approached the lever. “How do we stop it?”
“You don’t,” Jace said. “You redirect it. But it’ll take both of us.”
“What happens if we fail?”
He met her gaze, his expression grim. “The town disappears. Like your father.”
Mara swallowed hard. She thought of the notes, the diagrams, the warning in her father’s handwriting. “I’m not afraid of the tide,” she said, gripping the lever.
Jace nodded, stepping to her side. “Then let’s end this.”
They pulled the lever together, and the lighthouse shuddered. The water surged, but instead of flooding the town, it was drawn back into the sea, the archway collapsing behind it. The tide receded, leaving the cove silent once more.
Mara collapsed against the wall, her breath ragged. Jace sat beside her, his head in his hands. “It’s over,” he whispered.
“Not quite,” Mara said, staring at the empty control room. “But we did it.”
The lighthouse stood quiet, its light extinguished. The tide had been sealed once more, but Mara knew the story wasn’t finished. The sea would always call, and some secrets would never stay buried.
—
The town rebuilt, the lighthouse left as a relic of the past. Mara stayed, her mother’s job securing their place. Jace returned to his family’s watch, though he often visited, his presence a quiet constant. The tide still whispered at the edges of their lives, a reminder of what had been uncovered and what remained hidden.
Mara never found her father’s body, but she didn’t need to. The lighthouse had given her something else—understanding, maybe, or the courage to face the unknown. And as she stood on the cliffs one last time, watching the waves roll in, she felt the pull of the sea, not as a warning, but as a promise.
The tide didn’t lie. It never would.
