Derry began to slide a couple of maps toward the center of the table, arranging them so everyone could see. All of them had light blue surfaces with lines drawn across them — sea charts, I realized. Routes, maybe. Or territories.

The meeting was starting, and I still hadn't gotten anything to eat.

"We're not taking the direct route," Derry said, his voice a low rumble that filled the cramped cabin. One thick finger traced a line on the largest map. "Coastal voyage south, round the cape, dock at a Southern Threshold port — that's the obvious path. That's the path the Church expects."

Tristan leaned forward, arms resting on his knees. "And the obvious path is..."

"Death," Po supplied cheerfully from beside me. "Or worse! The Inquisition doesn't kill you right away, Mr. Cade. They ask questions first. Lots and lots of questions."

'...Thank you, Po.'

I studied the map from my elevated position, trying to make sense of what I was looking at. The blue surface showed what I assumed was Solarium's coastline — a long stretch running north to south, with the western shores marked near the top. Somewhere up there was Faeren Heights. Somewhere down at the bottom, past a tangle of coastal territories and cramped handwriting I couldn't quite read, was our destination.

"The Southern Threshold ports are crawling with Inquisitors," Derry continued. "Purity obsession runs deep down there. Ships get inspected. Passengers get questioned. Anyone bound for 'the apostate city'—" he said the words with audible quotation marks, "—gets special attention."

"Uhm..."

They all looked at me as my voice made its debut.

With Derry's large eyes on me now, if I wasn't planning to speak before, I certainly had to.

"I'm just curious about the scrutiny. Would information about me have spread so easily? Even amongst all Inquisitors?"

Derry chuckled — a sound like rocks grinding together.

'...Did I say something odd?'

"This isn't about you." It was Tristan who answered, his tone patient but firm. "The Apostate is that dangerous, and the Inquisition is out to get people like us. The Black Snow Company... to subvert these people among many other things is why they exist." He ended the statement looking at Derry, as if handing off the explanation.

The large man nodded, adding to Tristan's words.

"Yes, Lord Tristan here is very correct. But don't worry — we've done this so much it's like taking bread from a child. Watch and learn, kiddo."

Po looked at me and gave me a thumbs up with a wide smile.

"Trust the Black Snow Company!"

"Thank you..." I nodded and focused back on the map, trying to piece together the geography. "So about what you said — it means we're going around?"

More statement than question.

Derry's large head turned toward me. For a moment I thought he'd tell me to shut up and listen, but instead he nodded slowly.

"Indeed, kiddo. We go around. The long way." His finger moved to a different map — this one showing a scattered cluster of islands off the western coast, drawn with more care than the mainland territories. "Crystalis. The merchant archipelago. We dock there first."

"Crystalis doesn't care what you're doing," Tristan added. "Long as you pay."

"They don't ask questions?"

"They don't ask anything." Tristan's voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "You could be carrying the Emperor's stolen crown and a hold full of contraband spirits, and the harbor master would just want to know which dock you prefer and whether you're paying in gold or trade goods."

Po's legs swung faster, enthusiasm building. "Crystalis is fun! Lots of interesting people. Lots of interesting food. Lots of interesting—"

"Focus," Derry rumbled.

Po's legs stopped swinging. "Yes, Mr. Derry."

I looked at the island cluster on the map, trying to orient myself. If Faeren Heights was northwest, and Crystalis was... southwest? The route would take us away from the Southern Threshold entirely, at least initially.

"And after Crystalis?"

Derry's finger traced south from the archipelago, past the edge of the Solarium coastline, into territory that was marked with less detail. The mapmaker's confidence seemed to fade the further south he went — lines becoming tentative, place names growing sparse.

"Ashara's coast. We pick up a different ship in Crystalis — one that runs the southern routes. They take us to the desert's edge."

"Then overland," Tristan said. "Through Asharan territory, up through the Valdepura Pass. We enter Recimiras from the south."

I stared at the map. "We're going through Ashara? Isn't that the continent full of warlords and..." I searched for what little I remembered about the place from Knight Flint's sparse mentions and the even sparser lessons at the academy.

"The edge of it," Derry said. "Not the deep desert. The routes exist because Recimiras cultivated them. Smuggler's roads. Safe enough if you know the way."

"And if you don't know the way?"

"Then you die in the desert." Derry said it like he was discussing the weather. "But we know people who know the way. That's why we're stopping in Crystalis first — to arrange passage with the right crew."

The door creaked open behind us. Levi slipped back in, now actually carrying a waterskin. He must have realized the alibi needed supporting evidence.

"What'd I miss?" he asked, settling against the wall near the door.

"The part where we explain why we're not getting murdered by Inquisitors," Tristan said dryly.

"Ah. The fun part." Levi took a drink from the waterskin. "Did you tell him about the three months?"

I turned sharply. "Three months?"

Po's enthusiasm returned in full force. "Three months at sea, Mr. Cade! Well, not all at sea. Some of it is waiting in Crystalis for the right ship. And some of it is the overland part. But mostly at sea! Isn't that exciting?"

'Exciting is one word for it.'

Three months. The number settled into my chest with an uncomfortable weight. Three months of ocean, of cramped cabins, of wherever this was leading.

"The direct route is three to five weeks," Derry explained. "But the direct route gets us caught. This route..." He tapped the map, his thick finger tracing the long curve from Faeren Heights to Crystalis to Ashara's coast to Recimiras. "This takes longer. We're not just traveling — we're disappearing. By the time anyone thinks to look for us in Recimiras, we'll have been there for weeks."

"Why Recimiras?" I asked.

The question had been sitting in my chest since I'd first heard the name, but there hadn't been time to ask it — not while Kassie was dragging me through training. The obvious answer was that it served as the base of the Black Snow Company.

But that only pushed the question back a step.

'Why is it there of all places...'

The cabin went quiet. Even Po stopped fidgeting.

Derry and Tristan exchanged a look. Some unspoken communication passed between them—the kind that came from years of working together, a whole conversation compressed into a glance.

"You know what Recimiras is?" Derry asked.

"A free city?"

"The Eternal Light Church calls it an open wound in the body of civilization," Levi supplied from his spot by the door. He seemed amused by the phrase. "They've wanted to burn it down for half a century. Crusade after crusade proposed, crusade after crusade rejected. The Emperor doesn't want to pay for it."

"It's not just that the Radiant Faith hates it," Tristan said. "It's why they hate it. Recimiras doesn't recognize Inquisitorial authority. Heresy accusations require evidence there — actual evidence, witnesses, due process. Like any other crime."

I processed that. In Aetheris, as far as I knew, the Church's word was law when it came to matters of faith. If they said you were a heretic, you were a heretic. The trial was a formality.

"They also have unlicensed spirit academies," Po added, his voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. "And old books! Really old books that the Church burned everywhere else. And they don't turn in anyone that—"

"The point," Derry cut in, "is that Recimiras is the one place on this continent where the Church's reach doesn't extend. Where being declared an enemy of the faith doesn't automatically make you an enemy of the state."

"Where someone traveling with certain... companion... might not be arrested on sight," Tristan added, and the way he said companions made it clear he meant Kassie.

Or me.

Or whatever I was becoming.

I looked down at the map again. The route suddenly made more sense — not just as a path to avoid detection, but as a path to the one place where detection might not matter. Three months of running toward the only corner of the world where we might be able to stop running.

The weight in my chest shifted. Not lighter, exactly. But different.

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