The journey to the City of Endless Making took only a single sunrise.
The map inside the paper airplane did not point toward a location.
It pointed toward a state of mind.
As the companions and apprentices crossed the Threshold, the landscape gradually transformed.
Birdsong faded.
The scent of wildflowers disappeared.
The sky remained clear, yet no one looked up.
Everyone they passed seemed focused on reaching somewhere else.
---
At the city's entrance stood a magnificent archway of polished steel.
Instead of welcoming visitors, it displayed a changing number.
The number rose every second.
Finn watched it climb.
"What does it measure?"
A passerby answered without slowing down.
"Today's output."
"What happens when it stops?"
The passerby looked genuinely confused.
"It neve
