Masakiko

There's a saying in The Teikodian Empire: a map is just a lie told with a straight line. Masakiko has always known this to be true, seeing the golden spires of the capital ripple like water and the sunlit marble fracture into a thousand moving colors. They explored alone for years, guided by lanterns that seemed to illuminate paths no one else could perceive. Then they met a cartographer, a literalist disgraced for their refusal to fudge survey lines for political gain. The cartographer saw lines; Masakiko saw light. The partnership should have failed. But one day, near Sakkaku's old haunting grounds, reality dissolved into an unbearable storm, and the cartographer was the only solid thing in Masakiko's world. These days, one holds the compass, the other holds the lanterns. They find their way.