I left my family in August of my sixteenth year – boarded a merchant’s ship and sailed away from the island. I recall with vivid clarity taking my sister’s hands in mine before I left and promising her that I would find a better life for her. We had been trouble-makers, she and I. We had broken rules together.

It was a promise that I failed to keep.

Working for the Guild of Cartographers was supposed to be a temporary measure. No one had anticipated that it would be something I so excelled at. It was not where I had planned to make my mark in life. I had saved up enough money to return home – I should have done so sooner. But I waited, unsure of what exactly might have been the most preferable route to proceed with my future.

The island I had grown up on was named Wilson Heights, the smallest of the ten main islands of Jackson’s Break. One day it just disappeared – fell completely off the charts and away into mystery. I was never able to return for my sister.