They say there was once a mapmaker who charted more than just lands. She carved the paths of souls, traced the lines of memory, and dared to mark the spaces between life and what comes after. Obsessed with truth, she etched forbidden knowledge into bone and buried it beneath porcelain skin.
But some knowledge burns.
What you hold now is all that remains—a skull engraved with the remnants of a celestial map, fractured by time and betrayal. Worn as a pendant, it does not guide you to places, but to truths—your own scars, your own sacred paths. It asks not where you’re going, but whether you’re brave enough to go deeper.
