In the Bay, autumn smelled of salt and the wind swirled around the lighthouse. Lena, a fourteen-year-old volunteer at the town library, knew every stone of the path. That evening, she spotted a flash, even though the lighthouse had been closed for months. The brief flashes formed signs she knew from scout meetings. Lena whispered a rhythm and the words slowly folded into a sentence. "DON'T LOOK FOR ME, LENA" - it came out as if someone had impersonated the sea. It was a name only her grandmother knew, having called her that when she was very young. The next day Maks, the neighbour from the cage, came running in with eyes like herrings. "I heard tapping from the lighthouse at night," he said, catching his breath by the dock. The caretaker had died in May, the door had been chained, and yet someone was there. They put the phone through the letter slot and switched on the torch video mode. The lens showed a bare staircase and the flash of a nickel-plated door handle at the top. Then something obscured the frame, like the crest of a wave without a drop of water. Maks shook the phone, and then a short 'hello' crackled in the speaker. Then there was silence, until a dragging fog signal came from the harbour. After lessons, they searched the library storeroom, where the diaries of former lighthouse keepers were kept. Mr Brzoza's notes were about Channel Seven and lost signals. "I hear ships that are not there," he wrote, underlining the word three times in pencil. Just before midnight, the lighthouse flashed again, this time longer and clearer. Lena and Maks deciphered: 'CLUE UNDER THE FLIGHT OF A BIRD', and then silence. Under the seagull statue they found a rusting key, cleverly stuck to the tar. The night was cool, but their hands were burning as they fitted it to the door. The chain had a fresh scratch on it, as if someone had tried to make a quick entrance earlier. Inside it smelled of salt and dust, and the walls were covered with threadbare maps. On the table buzzed an old radio hooked up to a battery from a fishing boat. The speaker crackled, then whispered coordinates and a name she shouldn't hear. Above them something sounded; a shadow moved down the spiral staircase, stopping at the banister. Lena lifted her gaze just as someone's hand flashed on the banister.