Every journey begins with a single step, but for me, the step was more like a leap.

I was on the tower's roof, a place I’d called home for over a month. It was almost like a home in that I had made memories in it. And what was a home but a hotbed of memories?

I was also alone, unfortunately. Mr. Mosely had elected to stay inside the tower even after days of my begging him to come with me. He had said things like, ‘I won’t be able to keep up with you,’ and ‘Someone should stay here in case something goes wrong.’ It was stupid, but it's what he wanted. Calling him headstrong would be a compliment.

On my person, I carried everything of use that Mr. Mosely had been willing to part with: one of Doug’s Femurs, a waterskin, a few pieces of burnt rat meat tucked inside two thoroughly washed snatcher pouches, and Mr. Mosely’s timepiece. The timepiece was easily the most important of the items. I was shocked he’d been so willing to part with it, though I secretly hoped it would be true. How else would I navigate the Labyrinth?

I glanced down the Blast-hole, hoping against all odds, Mr. Mosely would show his face. If not, come with me then at least to give me a proper goodbye. I could use any encouragement he was willing to muster. A simple ‘go get them, kid,’ to show though he wasn’t coming physically, he was with me spiritually.

After a while, I got tired of waiting.

“Uhm. Mr. Mosely, are you there? I’m going to leave this time. And I might not come back.”

No response.

I glanced toward the sprawling cityscape of rooftops and felt incoming dread on exploring it all alone. The past three days of preparing to leave had done nothing but make me more nervous about the attempt.

“Are you really not coming,” I whispered.

Regardless of what Mr. Mosely said, I’d already planned our journey in my head. His stubbornness was throwing a wrench into those plans. We were supposed to be like Lewis and Clark. I would be Lewis, and he would be Clark, and together we would be great explorers, keeping each other safe. Alone, I wasn’t an explorer. I was a wanderer, and to wander was to be directionless. I didn’t want to be directionless.

“Fine then,” I said in a huff. “Die here all alone knowing nothing. I have a family to save and mysteries to uncover. ”

I turned away from the opening and walked to the rooftop's edge, where the walkway awaited. The thin stone beam was an easy cross. I’d crossed it twice before while mapping out the area. I wouldn't even need to use a platform.

I stepped onto the ledge and looked down—I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it. One glance was enough of a reminder that It was a long way down. I wasn’t afraid of heights by any means, but I wasn’t very fond of the idea of going splat, either.

With a deep breath and my eyes locked straight ahead, I crossed to the other side. I was confident in my balance, and the walkway was as wide as a foot, so the crossing went without a hiccup.

I jumped off the walkway and onto the building next over, immediately searching for threats unseen. My new eyes did well in that regard.

Once I saw it was safe I made my way to the other side of the building, crouching as I walked. All the buildings, at least those I’d encountered, were similar. Every building had a metal hatch in the center—I’d had yet to attempt to open one and walkways that connected it to nearby buildings.

I’d uncovered the similarities while Mr. Mosely was doing his outdoorsman thing. Skinning, processing, and whatever else made him a bloody mess day after day.

I ignored the hatch and went for the closest walkway. It was on the left-hand side of the new building I was on, a slight difference from the original tower. When I said all the buildings were the same, I meant functionally. The hatches and walkways were on every tower, but some walkways connected to certain buildings while others didn’t.

Let me explain.

Every building had at least two walkways that connected it to nearby buildings, but sometimes, there were more buildings than walkways. When that was the case, I would need to veer off in another direction instead of walking straight from building to building. It made it easier to get lost, but I had a plan for that.

I stepped onto the new walkway and shuffled my way across without any problem. Once I was there, I put my palm out forward so that it was facing upward and said, “[ethereal].”

In my hand, a tiny ball of transparent blue light appeared. It was the size of a bead and was in the shape of a ball—the perfect tool for what I had in mind.

I walked to the center of building number three and placed the tiny bead of light near the hatch. I planned to leave little breadcrumbs—[ethereal] beads, all to keep track of the buildings every time I made a turn. Since [ethereal] used up a specific amount of energy instead of being a constant drain, as long as I kept the [ethereal] ball as small as possible, I’d have enough energy to go on for a while.

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With that in mind, I proceeded forward. I stopped only when it was time to shift in direction, which came more often than I hoped. Every twist and every turn required a [ethereal] ball, and I was draining my energy faster than it recovered—a headache formed when I got around to my fifth [ethereal] ball. Magic was tough on the mind.

I soldiered on.

I moved with a purpose, a strong purpose. There were no real stars to guide me; the letter N on the timepiece's built-in compass was my north star. All I could do was hope that it guided me well. And luckily for me, it seemed as if that was the case.

The compass pointed to where the rooftops looked the most dense, though I couldn’t say if it were truly dense or simply layered. The trouble with distance was that it ruined perspective.

As my eyes roamed the great landscape with wonder, I couldn’t help but think about what was happening with Mr. Mosely. Nobody knew my destination besides him. If I disappeared, who would know? If he disappeared, would I know? It was scary to think about.

I stopped on the roof I was crossing and looked back in the direction I’d come from. Mr. Mosely was likely back there butchering giant rats by the dozens.

For some reason, after my first harrowing encounter with the vile monsters, he insisted on taking over the rat-killing business. With my fear in mind, I didn't object to his proposal. But I couldn't have imagined he’d get so captivated by the routine process and relative safety of the tower that he would refuse to leave. I hoped that by the time I got back from the journey, he would be ready to come with me. And I did plan on going back.

The rations I’d packed in various pant pockets were good enough to last me two or three days. After that, I would need to return.

I didn’t want to risk creating loud noises or bright lights, trying to open up more hatches. It would be too dangerous. Danger was good in spurts, but prolonged exposure to it wasn’t what I had in mind when I planned the journey.

I planned to walk until I found something interesting. It wasn’t the greatest plan ever devised, but it beat sitting in that damned tower.

I stepped onto the ledge of the newest building and looked at the building in front of me to see if the coast was clear. When I saw that it was, I shuffled across the walkway to the new building and crossed the roof rather quickly. I was eager to push further before taking a break.

As I checked all three sides of the building, I was shocked to find there was only one walkway to take. It was near a building headed west, with a considerably bigger gap between the two buildings, at least fifty feet. An enormous difference from the five to ten I’d grown used to.

The slight change stirred a bit of a nervous tremble out of me.

“What the…”

I could barely see whether the next building had walkways for me to cross. My glowing eyes let me see the buildings and other big shapes, but the tiny details got left out. And by tiny details, I meant the walkways. In the shadow of the building, the thin beams blended in well with the background for my eyes to pick up.

I decided to turn around and go in another direction. Walking a tightrope fifty feet across for a building I couldn't guarantee had a path would be a waste.

When I returned to where I last made a turn, my [ethereal] ball awaited me there. I left it where it was and took the second walkway I’d yet to explore. If I needed to, I could always return to the one I’d originally come from.

I followed the path, staying as straight as I could until, eventually, I came up to a dead end. The building, though surrounded by two other buildings, didn’t have a single walkway for me to access.

“That’s just great,” I muttered.

I returned the way I came and found myself at the same intersection I’d just passed minutes before. The whole area was a dead end unless I wanted to run the risk of using [platform] to cross.

Nowhere to turn, I picked up the [ethereal] ball and turned back to my original path to head back to two buildings where another walkway was available to use.

I followed that path until, again, I ran into another dead end and decided to take a break to eat and gather my thoughts.

The maze of rooftops was confusing because the walkways were nearly invisible unless you were close. They also went off in random directions with no rhyme or reason. I tried making a map of where I’d come from, but it ultimately proved useless with my terrible memory. It was more likely to remember a piece of random trivia about a place nobody had ever heard of than something like directions.

I sat in the corner of the dead end and began rummaging through my pockets. I produced from them a water pouch Mr. Mosely had painstakingly made and a piece of rat meat charred black from the edge of a [blast]. The pouch was only as big as a hand—likely less than a liter, but the water tasted so good after a bit of exercise that drinking it came easily. And the rat meat wasn't too bad, either.

After eating, I returned everything to my pockets and prepared to go. Circumstances made up My mind for me. I would take no more stupid turns and waste no more energy. There was no real way to keep track of where I was going. All I was doing was getting myself lost.

“Full steam ahead. These rooftops belong to me,” I whispered to myself. I liked to give myself pep talks before doing something possibly dumb. I don’t know what it was, but I needed a little boost in words to get me through things.

“[Platform]. [Platform],” I said, and two familiar light green squares appeared at the roof's edge. I stepped up on the first and then the second, and then I made a third. A few more after that, and I was across. My new plan was the same—head north deeper into the city but with the new addendum of keeping truly straight.

“That’s much better.” I tossed the spare [ethereal] ball down to note my change in direction and walked forward to the next edge to continue my journey—there was a walkway on the new roof, so [platform] wouldn’t be needed.

Before I was able to take a step forward, I collapsed into a heap, my head throbbing. Something hit me. It hit me in the head.

My hands went to my head as my vision was blurring. There was blood. Oh, man, there was a lot of blood. I grasped for the giant femur I had with me for some protection from what hit me, but I couldn't get a hold of it. My hands were too slippery—with blood? Maybe sweat?

“Oh, no, no, no.”

I looked to my right, and the last thing I saw with a clear mind was a set of glowing eyes.