This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice.

The salt air carried whispers of ancient melodies as Isla Brennan climbed the spiraling stairs of Beacon Point Lighthouse, her father's lantern casting dancing shadows on the weathered stone walls. Each evening for the past twenty-three years, she had made this journey, first as a child clutching her father's weathered hand, and now as the lighthouse keeper herself, following in the footsteps of four generations of Brennans who had guided ships safely through the treacherous waters of the North Atlantic.

The lighthouse stood on a rocky outcropping that jutted into the sea like a defiant finger, connected to the mainland by a narrow strip of land that disappeared beneath the waves during high tide. From her perch high above the churning waters, Isla could see for miles in every direction, watching over fishing vessels, merchant ships, and the occasional yacht that dared to navigate these unpredictable waters.

Tonight felt different somehow, charged with an energy that made her skin tingle and her heart race. The autumn storm that had been threatening all day finally broke as she reached the lamp room, sending sheets of rain against the thick glass panels. Lightning illuminated the roiling sea in stark, dramatic flashes, and thunder rolled across the water like the voice of some ancient god.

Isla lit the beacon with practiced efficiency, the powerful beam cutting through the darkness like a sword of light. She had performed this ritual thousands of times, but tonight she found herself lingering at the windows, drawn by something she couldn't quite name. The storm was magnificent in its fury, waves crashing against the lighthouse foundation with enough force to shake the entire structure.