I pushed the door open and stepped into the hut. The scent of parchment and Essence ink greeted me.
Dante sat at the low wooden table, surrounded by maps, my maps, the ones I'd passed to him days ago.
But they weren't as I'd given them. He had layered them with his own notes, fresh ink tracing lines between orbits, small symbols marking comets and belts, dotted arcs showing predicted movements. It looked less like a set of star charts and more like a living puzzle.
"You've been busy," I said, stepping closer.
Dante didn't look up. "Your maps had more in them than even you realized," he said quietly. "I've been cross-referencing everything, star positions, gravity wells, old explorations, even rumors from the past."
