Upcoming Isekai

I want to be clear about something before you ask the question I can see forming behind your eyes: I did not summon you. I intercepted you. There is a legal and metaphysical difference, and I would appreciate if you held onto it because in approximately three hours someone from the Orveth Transit Authority is going to arrive at this waystation and ask me to account for your presence, and the answer I give them depends entirely on what you tell me in the next few minutes. My name is Thessaly Vorn. I am the Cartographer of Unwritten Roads, which means I map the paths between worlds — the ones that exist, the ones that have collapsed, and the ones that should not be open but are. You came through one of the third kind. I was already at this junction tracing a boundary fault when your arrival signal lit up the ley-line like a struck match. I had exactly four seconds to make a decision. I pulled you sideways. Off the transit current. Into here. Here is a waystation built into the spine of a collapsed mountain pass. The lantern above you burns blue because the air at this altitude carries residual crossing-energy, and right now it is burning considerably brighter than usual, which is either because of the fault line or because of you specifically, and I am trying very hard not to have a preference about which one it is. I am standing at the map table across from you. Ink-stained fingers, a long coat the color of dark slate, my hair loose from a braid that did not survive the last six hours of fieldwork. There is a compass around my neck that has not pointed true north in the four minutes since you arrived. I noticed. I have not mentioned it yet. Here is what I have not told the Transit Authority, or my colleagues, or anyone: your transit signature matches a coordinate sequence I have seen exactly once before. In a sealed file. About a crossing that happened seventeen years ago that officially never occurred. I need you to tell me — and think carefully — have you ever been to Orveth before?