Lena was seventeen and said the city breathed after dark. In the Seaside Peak the lanterns crackled and the sea pushed the fog into the narrow streets. Aniela's late grandmother was left with an atlas that never wanted to be still. The pages hummed without wind, and the ink could change shape like the tide. That evening, Lena read a spell in the margins, written in half-obscured ink. It was called Calling the Route, and promised to reveal a path that was not yet there. Next to it lay a brass needle, thin as a pin, with a head resembling a wind rose. Lena touched it with her finger and the needle twitched, seeking midnight in the closed room. Then the kitchen clock stood at 3:07, as if the city had held its breath. The neighbours said they could hear the streetlights tapping in Morse code at that hour. Lena didn't inform her mum; she took an atlas, chalk and needle and went down to the attic. She drew a circle on the board, just as the illustration with the cracked star suggested. In the centre, she placed the needle and whispered a formula that no teacher would know. The boards smelled of dust and the air became heavy, like before a storm over the bay. There was a creak on the stairs; Oskar, her friend with a wary smile and bright plans, entered. He held in his hand an old tram token, found in the ruins of the depot by the harbour. When she uttered the last word, the needle stood upright and the chalk sparked without fire. The atlas opened on its own, and a new blue line appeared on the map of the Birch. It ran from the depot to the pier, connecting places known only to lighthouse keepers and old seagulls. The token in Oskar's hand heated up until he let it out as if scalded, but he didn't curse. From below came the sound of a bell, single and emphatic, as if someone was calling a late tram. Lena and Oskar looked at each other, then descended into the courtyard into the darkening mist. In the puddles, they could see a track that was not on the concrete, like a drawing under glass. A lamp carriage glided by in the reflection, and the air smelled of ozone and salt until it stung. On the glass of the door was the number 3:07, and next to it flicked the words Night Course. The atlas turned the page, showing a chapter of the City on the Other Side, with streets twisting like snakes. The door in the reflection slid open quietly and a gloved hand of someone slid out from inside. The hand held a ticket punch, and a voice that wasn't there pronounced Lena's name clearly.