He didn’t know where it led yet. But he knew, for the first time, that he could go there.
“I drew it,” she said. “Right through the ship’s log. I named it the Meridian of Last Hope.”
The old cartographer, Elara, had spent forty years tracing lines that no one else could see. Her workshop smelled of vellum and dust, and the walls were papered with maps of the world. But her masterpiece was different. It was a single, slender line of ink that ran from the North Pole to the South—the Prime Meridian.