Two ways to reach someone. Navigate to is the drive: the route, and the family told you're on the way. Find is on foot and quiet: nothing shared, the compass finder opened straight from their row. No more walk/car switch inside the sat-nav; you choose from the drawer. The last few metres, exact. On iPhone 11 and later, Find uses the Ultra Wideband chip once you're close: the distance to the metre, and which way when it can tell. Both phones need Amya open, and each asks once for Nearby Interactions. The dots round the ring tell the story: dormant from far away, waking as the chip hears how far, gathering along the arrow when it knows which way, and into the middle when you're together. A better drive. The arrow follows the words, so a left turn never wears a right arrow; roundabouts as a number in a circular arrow; the screen stays on; an arrival time that tracks traffic; the next turn on your Lock Screen, in the Dynamic Island and on the car's screen; a glance at the whole route before the sat-nav view takes over. Roomier rows, and the map centres on what it draws.

Connecting a Tesla asks for every box. Tesla's sign-in page lets you untick what Amya can read, and remembers it, so a second try could fail with "Couldn't reach Tesla's servers" when the servers were fine. It now asks again for anything left unticked, and if something is still refused the card says exactly what. One stop, one arrival. Two places right next to each other, a cafe and the shop next door, could announce an arrival at each as the phone made up its mind. Now a stop at either is one arrival, and the map shows the one it settled on. Heading home. When your Tesla is routed to Home, or you tap Navigate to Home in Amya, the family hears it once as you set off, with the minutes. Home only. It goes out once the whole family is on 1.6.22 or later, so turn on automatic updates.

One stop, one arrival. Two places right next to each other, a cafe and the shop next door, could announce an arrival at each as the phone made up its mind. Now a stop at either is one arrival, and the map shows the one it settled on. Heading home. When your Tesla is routed to Home, or you tap Navigate to Home in Amya, the family hears it once as you set off, with the minutes. Home only. It mutes with the Nearly home switch, a muted Home or a muted person. It goes out once the whole family is on 1.6.22 or later, so turn on automatic updates. The last road counts down. On the final road of a Navigate to, the banner's distance and "to go" now count down to the person the whole way, measured along the road.

Heading home. When your Tesla is routed to Home, or you tap Navigate to Home in Amya, the family hears it once as you set off, with the minutes. Home only: where else you're going is nobody's business. It mutes with the Nearly home switch, a muted Home or a muted person. Older phones can't read it, so it goes out once the whole family is on this version. Turn on automatic updates. The last road counts down. On the final road of a Navigate to, the banner's distance and "to go" were counting up from the corner you'd just turned until the top-down view took over. They now count down to the person the whole way, and every leg's distance is measured along the road, not as the crow flies. No Home yet? You can now make one from your family's own page.

On the way, until you're not. Navigating to someone now ends when you're together, when you close it, or after an hour in which you got no more than a kilometre closer, so a screen left open no longer tells the family you're on your way all evening. A slow walk or a long drive keeps going. Amya+ through Family Sharing, said plainly. If Amya+ reaches you through Apple Family Sharing, Settings now says so, with nothing to pay and nothing to manage.

Watch the updates flow in. Every face now blips once each time a new location arrives from that person's phone. On the move it's a steady beat, so you can see the updates flowing; when they're sat still it's a quiet blink at each check-in. If the beat stops, so have the updates. Next-door places, told apart. When two of your places sit side by side, like a café and the pub next door, Amya decides which one they've arrived at from where they actually spent the first minute, not whichever place you saved first. It decides once and never flips while they're there. A compass round the arrow. On foot, the arrow that walks you to them now sits inside a compass that turns as you do, and glows its full green only when you're facing them — on your iPhone and on your Apple Watch. Your watch opens the map on them. Tap someone on your Apple Watch and the map opens on them; on a watch with a compass, the arrow button there walks you to them. Find them in a big place. At an outlet, a school or a park, their dot now follows them as they walk around, so Navigate to leads you to where they are, not where they were a while ago. The last few hundred metres are exact. When you're navigating to someone, or on your way to collect them after a Come Get Me, and get close, their phone sends every step until you meet. No more going backwards. After a train journey or a patch of no signal, late updates can no longer put someone back where they were an hour ago. Alerts that land. Arrivals and departures keep trying through a weak signal until they get through, and news more than ten minutes old updates the map quietly instead of buzzing. Settings that stick. Mutes and an answered Come Get Me now survive the app restarting. Removing someone from a family is cleaner too, and anyone who joins afterwards sees everyone straight away. And a big tidy-up underneath, so everything runs a little lighter.

Amya is now "Amya: Family Locator" on the App Store. Same app, same icon, same family. A word from us, rarely. Now and then — a new feature, a seasonal hello — a short message from the Amya team may sit over the map until you tap it. Once answered it's gone for good, and nothing tells us you saw it. Your family's own banners always come first. Plus small tidy-ups under the bonnet.

Together in the car. When someone rides with you, your phone already knows it, and now every phone in the family takes its word: they move with you, wear the riding colour, and the Tesla ring holds steady for everyone aboard. No more flickering in and out of the car. Their phone can rest. A passenger's phone now turns its GPS down while yours does the work, and wakes the moment they get out. Drop-offs stay put. Once their phone says they've arrived, nobody gets carried off with the car. A moving phone no longer reads "stopped" for a moment when its signal hiccups. Expectations are yours. "Expect Ella home by nine" is your phone's own alarm, like muting a place: only your phone keeps it, only you hear it, and nobody else in the family is told.

The first frame is the real one. Open Amya and the map waits a moment for the family's latest word before it settles, so nobody who moved overnight is left off the edge. On a normal morning nothing moves at all. One name per person. If the organiser renames someone, their phone takes that name too; if they rename themselves, the family takes theirs. Whoever said it last wins, and the alerts say the same name as the app. Joining is private from the first second. The request a new member sends is sealed to the organiser before it reaches our relay, so the relay never sees the name they typed. The watch fits the small face. On a 40 mm watch the finder's arrow and distance scale to the face, and the hint stays out of the way while the arrow is pointing. Under the bonnet, a night of tidying: the map draws places by one rule on the phone and the watch, the watch's bar follows the clock row on every size, and a reconnect no longer dials twice.

Amya on your wrist. The family you see on your iPhone, on your Apple Watch: who's where, the map with the same pools and labels, Come get me and Go Dark as the two buttons, and Find them — turn your wrist and the arrow points at them, the distance counts down, and a tap on the wrist says warmer or colder so you can keep your arm down. On a watch without a compass (Series 4 and earlier) a person opens the map instead. The Lock Screen ring is on your watch face too, and the complication offers every family you're in and every saved place. Your watch never holds a key or sees a location on its own; your iPhone does the work and shows the watch. Amya on the wrist is Amya+. One lime. Amya's green is the one in the logo now, everywhere — rings, rails, buttons, the icon. Labels that fit. A name near the edge of the map slides into view, and a long one shrinks to fit, on the phone and the watch. Two iPhones, one you. Moved to a new iPhone and kept the old one on? One row in your profile, "Amya phone", says which the family sees you from. To retire a phone, delete Amya from it — never Leave or Reset there. Small things: an answer from beside the caller ends their Come get me; the family never loses Amya+ because the organiser's phone was offline; a tapped notification opens the map on that person; a still phone at home is quieter on the battery.

Two iPhones, one you. Moved to a new iPhone and kept the old one on? One row in your profile, "Amya phone", says which of your iPhones the family sees you from and names the other. Tap it to make this the Amya phone; the other steps back until you choose it there. Nothing happens on its own. To retire a phone, delete Amya from it — never Leave or Reset there. A family that no longer exists reads "Ended". A family nobody has opened in three months is gone from our relay; a phone that still holds its key sees it as ended in the Families list instead of waiting on an empty door. Nothing is deleted for you. Muted, quieter. A muted person's instant alert arrives silent and nameless, and clears itself the next time you open Amya. Under the bonnet: a new iPhone's first minutes can never overwrite the names your organiser gave, and the alerts shared between the app and its extension are written safely.

Notifications as they walk in. The phone that arrives now tells the family itself: an arrival, a departure or a Come Get Me reaches every phone the moment it happens, whether or not Amya is open there. Sealed to your family like everything else — our servers read none of it. Tap a notification, land on the person. "Big Soph · Arrived at Work" opens the app on Big Soph. Opening the app shows now, not then. Back after a couple of minutes away, the map frames the family again instead of where you last left it. A new iPhone walks straight back in. Your family, your places and the names you gave people all come with you. In the car. The Tesla charge pill sits on the owner's row only; the red ring and the car's words stay on everyone aboard.

Piggyback in the car. A passenger's phone now rides the driver's GPS — one chip for the car — and keeps watch: step out, lose sight of each other, or stray, and it takes its own GPS back at once. Everyone sees the passenger ride beside the driver, with the blue ring. What the colours mean. Settings has a key to every ring and every rail mark, drawn with the app's own pucks. The same key is at amya.app/support. A phone that can't say where it is no longer blanks the map. If someone's Location permission drops, the family keeps their last known position, honestly aged, and their row says why. Little things. Tap someone and their actions slide out from behind the row and fold away after ten quiet seconds; after a pinch the map flies back in one movement; photos go out once; the Amya+ sheet lists the Tesla last — if you happen to have one.

Supercharged by Tesla (Amya+). Connect your Tesla in Settings and, while you're driving it, your family sees where you're heading and when you'll arrive — “12 min to Nan's” behind the Tesla mark — plus the car's charge and a Tesla-red ring around you on the map. Only while you're in it. Read by your phone, end-to-end encrypted; our servers never see it. Family on older versions still get your arrival time. A family of one says so. Create a family and the first thing in your list is “Just you so far” with your invite — no pop-ups. A join request now reaches you wherever you are: a card at the top of your family list, and a notification if Amya is closed. Answer it an hour later and they still get in. Home in one tap. Until a family has a Home, the Places tab offers “Make here Home”. Opening Amya never looks like a wipe: your family is on the map the moment it opens, at their last known spot with an honest time against it. Battery, again. Walking about indoors no longer keeps the GPS on, and a still phone sends a tenth of what it did. Your row is the family's row: what you see of yourself is exactly what everyone else sees of you. The map re-centres your family when you close the drawer, and Convoy no longer needs switching on.

The battery release. • Your phone sleeps when it's still. Amya had been keeping the phone awake all day so it could report in every hundred seconds — a third to two thirds of a day's battery on our own phones. Now a still phone sleeps, and is woken by leaving a place, a big move, or the family asking. On the phones we measured, Amya's share went from 30–60% of the day to under 20%. • Green means heard. Amber has always meant "a ping we expected hasn't come". What we expect from a still phone is now a check-in about every hour: green for 75 minutes since the last one, then amber with the time shown, then "last seen" after six hours. You'll see more amber than before — that's the truth being shown. The Lock Screen ring follows the same clock. • Flights, honestly. The landing message says only what it measured ("about 880 mi flown"), and the map no longer loses you for two hours after you land. • Under the bonnet. Six bugs found by reading the code, fixed: a place name or an Amya+ journey time from one of your families could ride into another family's map; passing the crown didn't survive a relaunch; a locked phone at the wrong moment could lose the organiser's places; the family settings screen could change the wrong family; the free navigation preview could end on its first fix; removing someone didn't fully lock them out. And one set of rules for how the map places every badge.

Two cars, one map — and the map moves as one. • Convoy. Driving somewhere as two cars, or three? Switch Convoy on in Settings, then tap "Convoy" on the other driver's row. The map keeps every car in frame as you go, zooming in as far as it takes to show you apart, and the banner shows each car's distance from you and the minutes by road. Tap faces in the drawer to add or drop cars — as many as you like. Pan or pinch whenever you want; a few seconds later it takes the wheel back. It knows when you've arrived and steps aside. Nothing about it leaves your phone, and the other car sees nothing. Amya+. • One way of framing the map. One person: the zoom follows their speed. Several: the tightest view that fits everyone with room to breathe. A place: its ring. Opening the drawer, a banner arriving, the bar going — the map moves once, smoothly, and never flashes a black band. • Amya+ reads the same wherever you meet it. The mark, four rows, "Try it free for 7 days", the prices in green, "Not right now". • The free actions come first on every row. Press-and-hold on the map no longer starts a place; the Places tab and a person's row do. • Behind the scenes: a journey you share is filed under the right family even when another is on screen; a Come Get Me ends on its own clock; 206 tests where there were 187. Every one of these came from a family using Amya for real. Thank you for telling us.

Who's home, as a ring on your Lock Screen — one ring per place — and a new iPhone that keeps your family. • Come Get Me in the Dynamic Island. Raise a call and the coral hand sits in the Island: "asking", then who's coming and their minutes, with an "I'm sorted" button. Everyone else's phone shows "Ella needs you" with "On my way" right there, no app needed; the person coming sees the gap closing. It ends itself when you're collected. • Your family keys, kept more carefully. Each family's key is now its own record, so nothing can ever overwrite another. If Amya can't read them for a moment, it says "Restoring your family" and keeps trying — never "start fresh". • Opening Amya refreshes the Lock Screen ring straight away. • Who's home, without unlocking. A ring on your Lock Screen: one segment per person in your family's order, lit when they're at the place you picked, with the count in the middle. Choose the family and the place when you add it — Home, or School at half past three. When everyone's in, the number becomes a heart. It stays bright while Amya is calm, and fades only when Amya itself would stop trusting a phone's last word — so it can never look live when it isn't. Amya+. • Free is still free. Knowing where everyone is stays free, in the app and in every alert. The widgets are Amya+, alongside getting to them — and they hold nothing back: everything a widget shows is in the app, free, the moment you open it. • Flight landings are free for everyone now. "She's landed" is where somebody is, not getting to them, so it has moved out of Amya+. • A new iPhone keeps your family. Your family's keys now ride your iCloud Keychain — Apple's own end-to-end encryption, which neither Apple nor we can read — so setting up a new phone, or reinstalling, no longer means being invited back in. On by default, with a switch in Settings if you'd rather they never left this phone. Nothing about where anyone is ever goes there. • No more ancient arrivals. "Big Soph arrived at Home" could turn up nine hours late after a night with Amya asleep. It now knows the difference between an arrival it slept through and one that simply reached it late: the first stays quiet, the second is still news. • The last stretch of the drive. The person you're driving to glides instead of stepping, the screen wears coral when they're the one who called you, and your destination stands on the ground with a ring where the road runs out. • Amya opens on the family you were in, not the newest one. • A car driving past no longer carries a phone that stayed put. Two phones count as together only when they're on the same footing, and a place is only ever inherited from someone actually beside you. • Behind the scenes: one set of words for the app and the widget, so what your Lock Screen says is exactly what the app would have said — and 172 tests where there were 122. Every one of these came from a family using Amya for real. Thank you for telling us.

Who's home, as a ring on your Lock Screen — and a new iPhone that keeps your family. • Who's home, without unlocking. A ring on your Lock Screen: one segment per person in your family's order, lit when they're at the place you picked, with the count in the middle. Choose the family and the place when you add it — Home, or School at half past three. When everyone's in, the number becomes a heart. It stays bright while Amya is calm, and fades only when Amya itself would stop trusting a phone's last word — so it can never look live when it isn't. Amya+. • Your family on the Home Screen. "3 of 6 at Home", and everyone who's together shown together — the same faces, the same gold and purple rings as the map — with a current frame of the map on the large one and the time it was all true in the corner. Amya+. • Free is still free. Knowing where everyone is stays free, in the app and in every alert. The widgets are Amya+, alongside getting to them — and they hold nothing back: everything a widget shows is in the app, free, the moment you open it. • Flight landings are free for everyone now. "She's landed" is where somebody is, not getting to them, so it has moved out of Amya+. • A new iPhone keeps your family. Your family's keys now ride your iCloud Keychain — Apple's own end-to-end encryption, which neither Apple nor we can read — so setting up a new phone, or reinstalling, no longer means being invited back in. On by default, with a switch in Settings if you'd rather they never left this phone. Nothing about where anyone is ever goes there. • No more ancient arrivals. "Big Soph arrived at Home" could turn up nine hours late after a night with Amya asleep. It now knows the difference between an arrival it slept through and one that simply reached it late: the first stays quiet, the second is still news. • The last stretch of the drive. The person you're driving to glides instead of stepping, the screen wears coral when they're the one who called you, and your destination stands on the ground with a ring where the road runs out. • Amya opens on the family you were in, not the newest one. • A car driving past no longer carries a phone that stayed put. Two phones count as together only when they're on the same footing, and a place is only ever inherited from someone actually beside you. • Behind the scenes: one set of words for the app and the widget, so what your Lock Screen says is exactly what the app would have said — and 172 tests where there were 122. Every one of these came from a family using Amya for real. Thank you for telling us.

Come Get Me knows when you've been collected — and the fixes a week of real family use found. • Come Get Me ends itself when someone arrives. Raise it, and the moment a family member turns up beside you the call is over — whether or not they tapped "On my way!" first. Their "on the way" ends with it. An unanswered call ends after an hour. • A family you name keeps its places. Set up the grandparents' family and its places before anyone joins; it's there next time you open the app. Creating a family needs a connection now, and says so if there isn't one. • "Heading to Nan's" stays in Nan's family. A journey is only seen by the family it's for, and every phone reads the place by its own name for it. • Arriving home no longer goes amber. A phone joining the home Wi-Fi at the edge of the street used to hold its last positions for a minute; now they get through. And a car sat at the lights keeps saying "still here" every ten seconds, so a stop never reads as silence. • Leaving a place means leaving it. Getting out of the car at home no longer flickers between "left" and "arrived". A place is left when you're outside it, not when your phone thinks you moved — and your phone decides "I'm at Home" once, the same way for the map and for itself, so it goes quiet sooner after you stop. • Grouped people are named. A crowded map says "Ella & Donna in Cannock", never "2 people"; "Everyone except" names exactly one. • Under the bonnet, a large tidy-up: fewer timers, fewer places for the same number to live. Nothing you'll see; less battery you'll spend.

Try the sat nav free — and the last hundred metres now belong to the person, not the road. • Try the sat nav free. Tap Navigate to on anyone and the real turn-by-turn runs for a minute or a kilometre — long enough to take a turn — and then the sale takes over. So you decide with the thing in your hand, not from a description. One taste per destination, once every twelve hours. • The last hundred metres. A sat nav can only take you to a road. Inside the last 150 metres the map lays itself flat with both of you on it: their live dot, the line between you, how far and which side they're on. Car park, festival field, school gate. You press "With Ella" when you've actually got her — Amya never decides that for you. • Nobody is drawn where they aren't. A phone's old "I can see Dad" could be repeated hours later and sit someone beside him all afternoon. A report is now as old as the phone that made it says it is, whoever repeats it. • Names you can trust. A shop or a school could keep its name on someone a mile after they left it. The name you see is the nearest thing that's actually true — your own saved places first — and it clears the moment they move. • Riding along shows again. When one phone carries another over Bluetooth in a moving car, the passenger wears the blue ring, as they always did when parked. • A look isn't a plan. Taking the sat nav for a taste no longer tells the family you're heading anywhere. • Home shines. Gold with a little light on it, and the amber of a quiet phone leans a touch more orange, so the two can never be mistaken for each other. • One subscription, plainly. The Amya+ screen leads with the free trial, tells you honestly whether you're covered by your family's organiser or paying for yourself, and shares with your Apple family. • Small things, right. The whole family fits on the map with every name showing. Distances hand over to miles at half a mile. Saved places wear the same marker everywhere. And if Amya asks you for a rating it's Apple's own prompt, rarely, and only just after it has done something for you — "Something wrong? Tell us" has its own door in Settings. Every one of these came from a family using Amya for real. Thank you for telling us.

The first update since launch — and most of it is about Amya feeling more alive, and telling you only what's true. • More than one family, properly. Creating a second family used to fill it with your first family's people. Now every family has its own key and its own line to the server, and you're in all of them at once: checking on Grandad's family never makes you disappear from your own, each family sees you in its own places, and no family ever learns who you are in another. • Home is gold. The house, its rings, the ring on anyone at home, and its row in the list — so the eye finds Home before it reads a word. • A phone that stops says so. A phone that went quiet the moment it arrived somewhere used to keep saying "walking" for hours. It now reads as calmly parked, with an honest "since when". • Go Dark, done properly. While you're dark, nothing that could give your position away leaves your phone — and it stays that way through a restart, and ends by itself when the time is up. • Your family stays live. A phone that had stopped moving could go quiet for half an hour at a time, so people looked stale when they were perfectly fine. Fixed — the biggest change we've made to how live Amya feels. • Parked is parked. A car that's stopped now settles at the place it stopped at, instead of insisting it's still driving. Kinder to the battery, too. • Arrivals you actually hear about. "Arrived at Home" no longer depends on the arriving phone getting a word in. If Amya can see they're there, it says so. • "Nearly home" only when someone's actually coming home. It used to fire when they drove past on a nearby road. Now you draw the ring yourself in Home's settings — and it only counts once someone's been properly away. Two people in one car are one notification, not two. • Go Dark really is dark. While you're dark, your phone stops sharing where you are and your family's phones stop being able to spot you nearby. They see nothing, rather than where you were. • Calm, not amber. Someone sitting still isn't a problem and no longer looks like one: solid green, with an honest "since when". Only a phone that's actually speaking pulses. • Alerts stay yours. A phone sitting next to yours can't borrow your journey and tell the family you're nearly home, or have just left. • Finding someone at a big place. At a school or a campus, they're drawn where they actually are in the grounds, not in the middle of it — and tapping them lands right on them. • Miles and metres. Choose UK (miles & metres), US (miles & yards) or Metric (kilometres & metres). Amya starts on whichever your phone already uses. • The whole family fits on the map, names included, and stays in the order you put them in. • Go Dark wears a moon. Tap the Amya mark to see everyone. Two crashes fixed, and a handful of small things that were quietly wrong are right. Every one of these came from a family using Amya for real. Thank you for telling us.