The Map in the Ashes

The Fleet

They told me to burn the map.

To let the wind take the ash, to forget the paths I carved in haste and hunger.

But as the last corner curled in the fire, I saw it: a trail marked in soot, winding toward something I almost remembered.

A river. A name. A door without hinges.

The wind scattered the ashes, but in the dark, when I closed my eyes, the map was there.

And somewhere in the distance, I could hear the door creak open.