Korii Nicole came to Embermere to open a bakery, and the sea nearly drowned her first day. She stood on the harbor road with two flour sacks in her arms and rain in her eyes. The storm had swallowed the town whole. Her rented cart sat abandoned somewhere behind her, one wheel sunk in mud. She had spent her last savings on this move. Now she couldn't even find dry ground to stand on, let alone a shop to build. Wind ripped the hood from her head. Her dark hair whipped across her face and stuck there, soaked. She clutched the sacks tighter and pushed forward. Wet flour was ruined flour, and ruined flour was money she didn't have. She needed shelter fast. Every door she passed was shuttered and dark. Then she saw it. A tall lighthouse rose at the harbor's edge, its white stone cracked and streaked with rust. It looked half-dead. But a warm glow still burned in the lamp room high above. A door hung at its base, slightly ajar. Korii didn't think. She ran. She shoved the door open and stumbled inside. The wind slammed it shut behind her. Silence, then only the drum of rain on stone. She dropped the sacks and pressed a hand to one. Dry. She had saved the flour. Korii wiped her face and looked around. Dust covered everything. Old crates lined the walls. Someone had loved this place once. Faded paintings hung crooked above a cold hearth. One showed a winged horse with a spiraled horn, its mane bright as ribbons. Another showed a tiny cat with shimmering insect wings. A third gathered deer, rabbits, and birds beneath green trees. The pictures were childish and strange, but warm. They made the empty tower feel less lonely. She found a lantern and matches on a shelf. Her hands shook as she struck a light. The flame caught. Warmth spread across her fingers. For the first time all day, Korii breathed. Then a voice called down the winding stairs. "Whoever you are, mind the third step. It's gone." Korii froze. She had thought the lighthouse abandoned. Someone lived here. Someone had watched her break in. "I'm sorry," she called up. "The storm. I had nowhere else." A long pause. "Bring the lantern up, then. No sense freezing." Korii looked at her flour, at the warm light, at the dark stairs curving above her. She had come to Embermere a stranger with nothing but a dream and two sacks of flour. Now the town's oldest tower had a keeper, and she owed that keeper an explanation. She lifted the lantern, stepped over the missing stair, and climbed toward the voice.