After finishing Breaking Lessons, I turned to my second piece of micro-fiction for the month, featuring my wanderer. While I am building a larger story around Ramas, I have enjoyed shaping this arc through short pieces on Ko-Fi. This format forces focus. Each moment must carry weight quickly. That constraint has pushed me to explore the edges of his curse with greater precision, especially as he prepares to brave the ocean.
The sea remembers what men might choose to forget. Along the docks, lantern light trembles against wet timber while ropes creak and hulls settle into the tide. Merchants speak of cargo and coin, of safe routes and predictable winds. Yet beyond the last piling, the water deepens into something less certain, where ink thins and names fall away from the page.
Maps offer sailors comfort. They frame the world in measured lines and insist that distance can be mastered if it is carefully drawn. But every chart carries its own silences. Some coastlines are left blank because no one has reached them. Others remain empty because someone decided they should. In those quiet omissions, unease gathers, subtle but persistent.
There comes a point when standing still feels heavier than moving forward. The choice does not arrive with spectacle or fanfare. It settles in the chest, steady and unavoidable, asking whether the edge of the known world is a boundary or an invitation. Beyond the harbor, the horizon waits, patient and indifferent to the courage it demands.
Excerpt of Mapped Refusal
The dock shifted beneath Ramas’s feet, timber protesting the tide as though the ocean already knew his purpose. He stood between soil and sea, dismissing the swirling galaxies of the bustling harbor. In the distance, a ship loomed over him. Even through his cursed sight, the hull revealed its splintered planks, whispering of storms survived and debts unpaid.
Footsteps approached, slow and deliberate. Ramas turned toward the tiny galaxy, inclining his head before leveling his scarred, milky white eyes onto the newcomer.
“Few come here without seeking passage.” The man’s voice carried the rasp of tiring days. “Where are you bound?”
“The outer isles, the ones your maps and charts pretend don’t exist.”
The captain’s jaw tightened. “You’re going after the Lost Children of Sight. That’s a path that destroys everyone.”
Ramas removed his helm, revealing his cursed eyes. “Captain, I’m not most travelers.”
The captain turned, fists clenching at his sides. “You may not fear it, but the sea won’t spare me or my crew.”
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