In the east archive of Nekarius, maps are not drawn. They are waited for.

Every third dusk, a pale moth lands on the glass table and unfolds its wings. The veins glow with tiny streets, abandoned staircases, rivers that remember passwords, and alleys only visible after a failed login.

The archivists call it the Ink-Moth Cartographer. It does not show where things are. It shows where attention has been trapped too long.

ritual.map = {
  medium: 'wing-dust',
  scale: 'one hesitation',
  warning: 'skip chasing every luminous path',
  exit: 'blink twice, then close the tab'
}

When the moth leaves, the table remains blank, except for a single coordinate: the place where the visitor should stop scrolling.