The light was barely visible, but it was there. Through the fog, it flickered like a tired heartbeat. Elias gripped the railing of the small fishing boat as the waves lifted and dropped them in slow, uneasy swells. The storm had passed hours ago, but the sea still moved with the memory of it. “We’re close,” his daughter Lena said, squinting through the mist. Elias followed her gaze. There it was again. A faint glow on the cliff. The lighthouse. He had grown up with that light. As a boy he used to watch it from the harbor, counting the seconds between each sweep as if the rhythm kept the ocean in place. But the lighthouse had been abandoned for years. The bulb burned out. The stairs rotting. No one lived there anymore. Yet tonight the light was shining. They guided the boat toward the rocks and tied off at the broken pier. The fog curled around them as they climbed the narrow path. The door creaked open with a long, complaining sound. Inside, the tower smelled of salt and dust. Lena climbed the spiral steps first. When they reached the top, Elias stopped. The old lamp was glowing. Not bright. Not strong. Just enough to send a thin beam out across the dark water. Lena stepped closer to the lantern and laughed softly. “It’s solar,” she said. “Someone must’ve replaced the panel.” Elias walked to the window and looked out at the sea. Far away, he could see the faint shadow of a cargo ship moving slowly through the fog. The little light might not seem like much. But somewhere out there, someone would see it. Someone would know where the shore was. Elias sat down on the wooden bench beside the lantern, listening to the quiet hum of its battery. The sea breathed against the rocks below. Lena rested her head on his shoulder. For the first time in a long while, the future felt steady. “I have a feeling that tonight I will dream about the future,” he said while closing his eyes.