"Every story has a script. The trick is becoming the one who rewrites it."
***
That evening, back in Room 247, I spread my map across the desk and got down to the real business of the day.
The candlelight, because of course this world hadn't invented electric lighting yet, flickered across the hand-drawn layout of Solamere's campus. My careful notations seemed to shift and breathe in the unsteady glow.
I'd started this map on my third day at the academy. Once the initial panic of "holy shit I'm actually in the novel" had faded enough for rational thought to return. It showed the major buildings, the dormitories, the training grounds.
But more importantly, it showed the invisible geography that actually mattered.
Patrol routes of faculty monitors. Blind spots in the security wards. The schedule of when certain areas would be empty.
And names. So many names.
I pulled out my notes from today's classes and began updating the map. Adding new information. Refining old assessments.
