The guard didn't look away from the map.
Her eyes narrowed, tracking the faint glow as if it might jump at her. "That isn't normal," she said. "Maps don't do that."
Kieran folded the parchment halfway, the light dimming but not disappearing. His fingers felt warm, almost hot. "Neither does the road breaking itself open."
Around them, the caravan buzzed with panic. Merchants argued in sharp whispers. A wounded man groaned near an overturned wagon. The ravine creaked softly, its edges still crumbling, as if the land hadn't finished deciding what shape it wanted.
The guard exhaled slowly. "My name's Mara. I'm in charge of keeping these people alive." Her hand rested on her sword. Not threatening. Ready. "If that thing of yours gets us killed, I won't hesitate."
"That makes two of us," Kieran said.
He opened the map again.
The glowing line pulsed brighter this time, curling northward in a slow arc. No towns. No markers. Just empty parchment ahead—and certainty.
Mara frowned. "There's nothing there."
"There will be," Kieran replied.
He stepped forward.
The grass beneath his boot flattened a heartbeat before he touched it. Pebbles rolled aside, clearing a narrow trail no wider than a cart. A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Someone gasped. "The ground moved."
Kieran swallowed and kept walking.
With every step, the path formed just long enough to exist. Behind him, it faded back into wild grass, as if embarrassed to have helped.
"This is madness," a merchant hissed.
"Waiting is worse," Mara said. After a moment, she nodded sharply. "We follow. Slowly."
The caravan crept after Kieran. Wagons groaned. Horses snorted, uneasy but moving. The ravine behind them widened, chunks of the old road collapsing into shadow.
Kieran didn't look back.
His eyes were on the map.
The glowing line was shrinking.
Not at the front.
At the back.
A cold knot formed in his stomach. He slowed, then stopped.
"What now?" Mara asked.
Kieran stared at the parchment. The part of the path they had already walked was gone. Not dimmed. Not erased.
It simply wasn't there anymore.
Blank space replaced it, as if the map had never known that route at all.
He closed the map quickly.
"What's wrong?" Mara pressed.
Kieran forced his voice steady. "Nothing. Just… unstable ground ahead."
That was only half a lie.
The old courier's voice echoed in his memory, weak and strained.
Every path takes something with it. Don't follow too many.
The earth trembled faintly beneath their feet.
Far ahead, the horizon bent—just a little—like a line drawn by an unsteady hand.
Mara felt it too. Her grip tightened on her sword. "The world's turning again."
Kieran looked north, then down at the satchel pressed against his chest.
If the map kept taking paths away…
How many did it have left?