The Cartographer's Debt
Odile Fenn draws maps that come true: ink a quarry and the stone is there by morning. At seventeen, mad with grief, she scraped an entire city off the map, and has spent seventeen years pretending it never existed. Now its compass rose is turning in the night, her own town is fading at the edges, and a man she once loved is knocking at her door with pumice dust in his hair. Forty thousand people are waiting between the lines, and the map can only hold so much.