For fifteen years, the Tidal Light has burned steady over the black water off Breakwater - through storms, through winters, through the six years since Lena Bright's mother climbed the lighthouse stair and never walked back down. The light is the one constant in Lena's life. She talks to it every evening from the cliff path, the way other people talk to their dogs: constantly, and with complete confidence that it understands.
Then the light starts to gutter.
Lena is the only one who looks up. The beam thins to a thread, nearly goes out - and the village's clock-keeper tells her what nobody else will: the light doesn't run on oil. It runs on true things. Small true things. A song. A laugh. Something kind you saw that day. Her mother fed it every night for eleven years, and since she vanished, no one has fed it at all. Lena has been leaving her stories on the doorstep without ever knocking.
But tending the light means breaking the one rule that has never bent in six years: no one goes up there. Not past the waymarker, not up the stair, not through the door. Her aunt Tessa forbids it absolutely. The crossing to the lighthouse rock is going soft. And something is wrong in a way that neglect alone can't explain - something to do with between-storms, with the way her mother used to watch the sky, with the brass compass that points at nothing at all.
Waylighters (Book 1) is the start of a luminous YA fantasy series: a cliffside village, a guttering lighthouse, and a fifteen-year-old girl who decides that somebody has to tend the light - and that somebody is her.