CHAPTER 2: The Town That Knew Where Not to Go

Northmere did not announce its boundaries.

There were no signs warning when the town ended and the fields began. Roads narrowed gradually, buildings spaced farther apart, until movement felt optional rather than directed.

Callen learned this while walking without the map.

Without it, the town felt ordinary.

With it, the town felt aware.

At the market, Callen asked questions carefully.

“Do people talk about the map?” he asked a shopkeeper.

The woman handed him his change without hesitation. “Not unless they’re holding it.”

“What happens then?”

“They stop pretending they’re lost,” she replied.

Callen returned to the crossroads the next morning.

The line on the map remained.

He followed it.

It led him not forward, but sideways—toward a narrow footpath worn into the grass, one he had not noticed before.

The path ended near an empty foundation.

Nothing stood there now.

But something had.

Callen sat on the low stone edge and waited.

He didn’t know why.

He just did.

A memory surfaced—not his own, but familiar. Someone deciding not to build. Someone choosing space over certainty.

The map warmed slightly in his hands.

When Callen unfolded it again, a word had appeared near the line.

Not a label.

A note.

Here, someone chose not to continue.

Callen exhaled slowly.

The map was not unfinished.

It was ongoing.