The Lighthouse at the Edge of the Tide

The evening mist rolled in from the Stillwater Coast, carrying with it the hush of the tide. Ffyo sat on a smooth stone overlooking the waves, her feet tapping anxiously. She’d had a long day of helping others, and her heart felt heavy with the weight of it. She didn’t notice the soft footsteps behind her until a familiar voice spoke.

• “Your ears are buzzing,” Lioness said gently as she settled beside her. “That only happens when you’ve been carrying more than your share.” Her warm amber eyes studied Ffyo’s face with the same blend of strength and tenderness that had steadied her a thousand times.

• A moment later, Walrus lumbered up, slow but sure, his presence grounding the very air around them. “When the tide pulls hard, even the strongest swimmers get tired,” he rumbled. “You came here to breathe again.”

• Ffyo exhaled, shoulders slumping. “I’m trying,” she said. “I want to help them. All of them. But when someone comes at me angry, confused, or already halfway drowning, I never know if I’m close enough to save them… or too close and getting pulled under myself.”

• Lioness’s whiskers twitched as she leaned in. “Ffyo,” she said softly, “you are not meant to swim their storms for them. You are meant to stand close enough that they can see your light—close enough that they know they’re not alone—but not so close that you lose your footing.”

• Walrus lowered himself onto the sand with a deep, steady breath. “There is a reason lighthouses stand on the edge,” he said. “Not in the ocean. Not miles inland. Right at the line between chaos and clarity. That is where guides belong.”

• Ffyo listened as the waves hissed and curled around their feet. She remembered the Mapmakers’ lesson—how they stood beside the mud but never stepped into it, showing her where the stones were so she could climb out herself. “So I’m supposed to be like that?” she asked. “Close enough to see the mud. Far enough not to sink in?”

• “Exactly,” Lioness nodded. “If you get too close, you’ll spend your strength fighting their monsters instead of guiding them through their own. And if you stay too far away, they’ll never feel safe enough to try.”

• Walrus tapped his tusk thoughtfully. “And here is the part you forget,” he said. “You cannot see every wave before it comes. You help with the information you have in this moment. That is all any Lighthouse Ranger, Mapmaker, or Lifeguard has ever done.”

• Ffyo blinked, the realization settling in. She’d always thought she had to solve it perfectly—to predict the next storm before it hit. But maybe the truth wasn’t perfection. Maybe it was presence. “So I’m supposed to stand steady,” she whispered, “shine what light I can, and trust that the ones ready to climb will climb.”

• “Exactly,” Lioness said, wrapping her tail gently around her. “Helping isn’t drowning with them. Helping isn’t standing so far away that they can’t see you. Helping is being close enough to offer a hand—and strong enough to let them be the ones who take the step.” Walrus nodded, the tide pulling back around his great shadow. “And Ffyo… THAT you are already doing.”