Westeros Map Book Novels & Stories

It used to be such a warm place, now it was spoiled by the attack and the abduction. Finally, my hands made their way to the pile of maps that I had seen Alastor, Damian, and Orion pouring over for days and days. Some of the maps were new, but many of the maps were extremely old, to my surprise. The older maps were drawn on pieces of parchment that were turning brown with age and fraying at the edges. I gently stacked the maps up, just straightening them into a neat pile to make them look better.

He froze for a moment. "Can I draw on this?" he asked in a quietly, voice smouldering with rage. Emmet handed him a pen without asking anything, unable to deny him. Red_Two crossed out the entirety of the western portion of the map, scribbling out most of southern England as well. He circled the mountain ranges and scribbled on names which Emmet had never heard of before: Tiltų, Bolj Zelen, and Granitsa. He realised, a little too late maybe, that he was looking at a map of the future, too distracted by the panic of Red_Two.

But this time, it was different. Alpha Kurei waved his hand as if he was telling them that they did not need to waste time. He sat at the head chair which overlooked the entire terrain map of the wolven continent that was laid on the wide ebony table. Atop the map were red marks that focused on the northern borders of the Werewolf Committee that were not clearly drawn since it remained an unchartered territory for hundreds of years. Other than the red marks that marked the terrains, small figurines loitered around the map that represented the werewolves, fortress, cavalry, and the witches. All eyes were on the map.

Using aquasign, he signed, "Prince Tritan, I passed a few villages on the way here, trying to cover as much distance as possible. Did you want me to follow the same routine today?" Tritan shook his head, signaling a change in plans. He handed his waystick to Bryan, gesturing for him to hover above the area and direct the beam of light downward onto them. Bryan rose above the small gathering of merfolk and aimed the crystal tip of the waystick downward, casting a focused light in the center of the group. Tritan then retrieved his maps and unrolled them on the sea floor, but this map was different from the one Bryan had seen earlier in the prison. It was a detailed map of Tritainia, the entire

She shifted in my lap. “What am I looking at?” She asked with sheer curiosity. “This is the underworld map, showing the influence from the most to least.” I pointed to the small dots and color quotes. Her eyes followed the trails of color splayed all over, and she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth before releasing it with a slight pop. “You own Southern Europe and America?” There was a soft squeal of surprise in her voice.

I quickly fished it back out of my bag before handing it over to him. He quickly read back through the mission before shaking his head as he went over to one of his bookcases and pulled out a large rolled piece of parchment. As he set it on the desk, I moved to stand behind it with him as he unrolled the map, setting a couple of heavy books along the edges to hold it in place before looking over it for a long moment with a sigh. Lexi and Genie both came up to the other side of the desk to see what we were looking at as we all looked over the map, just as Xavier pointed out Celestia's capital city of Elysium.

Chapter 115: The Geography of Hunger The council table did not hold maps of empires; it held the grease-stained records of a dying winter. Natalia unrolled a heavy sheet of cured stag-hide across the raw pine trestles, pinning the curling corners down with three notched iron daggers and the heavy brass pommel of Varga’s executioner's axe. The map was crude, scratched into the leather with coal-ink that had begun to fade into gray smudges under the grease of countless wartime strategy sessions. It depicted the jagged, razor-backed spires of the northern mountains flattening out into the rolling alluvial plains of the mainland provinces—the fertile belly of the Eastern Sultanate that had grown

A very detailed map of somewhere. Roads stretch across the parchment. Entire routes. Landmarks. Buildings. Settlements. My brow furrows. Settlements? I stare harder. That doesn't make any sense. Why would Mason think I'd need this? I'm already halfway through folding it back up when my eyes catch something written along the bottom edge. The handwriting is faded. Barely legible. Almost erased by time. But I can still make it out. Lyvros. My breath catches.

Ronan practically snatched it from her hands. “Careful,” Selina warned. “I’m being careful.” “You never are.” Ignoring her, Ronan carefully unrolled the parchment across the table. For several seconds, nobody spoke. Because what lay before them wasn’t a letter, it was an old map. The edges had darkened with age, and several sections looked worn from repeated use. Yet one detail stood out immediately. The map didn’t show kingdoms, it didn’t show trade routes. It showed symbols, dozens of them spread across different territories.

Sera crossed to the table and swept the ledgers aside until she found the one she wanted, the map beneath them, the old vellum sheet of the southern reaches that she had glanced at a dozen times without ever truly reading. Now she read it the way Caius would. Not as land. As joints. "Show me the road," she said.