Chapter One: The End of the Map

When the coach passed the headless saint for the third time, Lin Cen took her phone off airplane mode. No signal. The clock read 12:17 a.m. The blue navigation dot hovered over a blank gray grid, though a road plainly existed beyond the window: narrow cobblestones following a black riverbed, flanked by grapevines like burned veins. “We're going in circles,” she said. Jonas, their tour director, stood at the front in a crumpled blue suit. “Mountain roads look alike. The Rhine is at record low water. The Eurydice cannot cross the shoals, so the coach transfer qualifies as force majeure. You all signed—” “Three times.” Lin held up her phone. She had photographed the saint on each pass: 11:41, 11:59, 12:17. Eighteen minutes apart.