The map was stretched across the central table like a wound.
Lucian stood with his hands braced on either side, eyes scanning the hand-drawn symbols. Not just roads and outposts—markers. Symbols. Lines that shifted subtly when no one looked directly at them.
Alice, beside him, pointed to a crude circle drawn in black wax. "She marked this with no notes."
"That's where the quarry was," Corvina said. "Or what's left of it."
"Memory-stone site?" Lucian asked.
"More than that. They harvested raw grief impressions there. Traces sealed in mineral. The Queen banned those decades ago."
Lucian studied the mark again.
It pulsed faintly.
Veska had drawn no name. Just a single glyph: a stylized eye, sealed with three lashes.
Alice spoke quietly: "She didn't want this read. She wanted it seen."
Lucian folded the map.
"Then we go."
+
They hiked through broken ravines, the trail narrowing with every bend.
Pine gave way to slate. The fog thickened.
