You are in The Observatory.
Ground you have walked is named. The rest is drawn but unnamed — it is waiting, not missing, and nothing is required of you to find it.
Every realm is named here, and its rooms fold open beneath it. The mark beside a name says which ground you have already walked.
Every door stays where you left it. Esc folds the map.
The one who takes the note down as it is spoken — voice in, words out, the saying kept without the sound. A note taker serves the thought, never the archive: what is kept is what was meant.