The Wistful Atlas
Act I Could a line drawn on parchment hold the weight of a border, or did it merely pretend to, a fiction of order laid over the chaotic sprawl of the earth? Mafalda Yanes, the royal cartographer, stood before the great oak table in the drafty chart room, her hands hovering over the vellum, trembling with a violence that defied the steady precision required of her trade. It was the autumn...
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