He settled by the window, watching the frost gather at its edges. Outside, the wind carried the faint clang of distant armor - Kum soldiers marching the border trails with more haste than usual. Inside, the tavern hummed with the small comforts of the season: warm bread, crackling fire, and the murmurs of folk who believed peace would last simply because it had lasted so far.

But unease drifted beneath the surface.

Two farmhands at the next table tried to speak quietly, though ale had loosened their tongues.

“Did ye hear? Some salvagers hauled up a strange blade from the reefs.”
“Aye, the dull-silver one? Balanced like nobility forged it.”
“They say it cuts clean as judgment. Could be an omen.”
“Could be trouble.”

They fell silent as the tavern door opened once more.

Magnolia stepped inside.

No snow clung to her cloak, though she had walked the same winter road he had. Her hood was lowered, hair damp as if from sea mist rather than frost. She smiled at the tavern folk as she passed, and strange comfort followed her steps - people sat straighter, voices softened, tensions loosened. Yet behind that warmth, McGeough sensed something shiver like a blade cooling in water.

She approached him at once.

“May I trouble you for company again?” she asked, her voice gentle.

McGeough motioned toward the bench across from him.

“You trouble no one,” he said.

Magnolia seated herself with grace that felt practiced rather than natural. Her eyes traveled the tavern, lingering on the Explorers whispering by the hearth, on the farmers muttering about border soldiers, on the children now rushing toward McGeough with dripping hands.

“This town carries nerves beneath its smiles,” she murmured. “Even the stew tastes worried.”

McGeough tilted his head. “Stew rarely lies.”

Magnolia’s laughter was soft - too soft, as if shaped for his ears alone.

“Tell me,” she said, lowering her voice. “Have you noticed the wind changing? Explorers talk of early signs. Kum is already pressing along Friar’s borders. The Guild prepares for a Cycle they cannot yet name.”

McGeough studied her closely.

“What is it you seek?”

Her smile held sincerity. Warmth.
Only the faintest tremor beneath it betrayed her.

“I seek calm,” she said simply. “And those who help preserve it.”

“That seems a heavy burden for a traveler,” he replied.

“Not heavier than the alternative.”

Her eyes flickered toward the tavern hearth, where the Explorers’ whispers had grown louder.

“Someone claimed earlier that the blade found at sea once belonged to a sage,” Magnolia continued. “Another said it brings truth to those who hold it. People love their myths.”

McGeough said nothing.

“And you?” she asked softly. “Do you love them as well?”

“Only when they are told by those who understand their weight.”

A shadow crossed Magnolia’s expression - barely noticeable, like a cloud passing over a distant moon.
She leaned closer.

“McGeough,” she said, tone velvet-smooth, “if you come across anything washed ashore - anything old, anything lost - you must let me know. Some relics belong to gentler hands.”

He held her gaze. Behind her warmth, he felt the cold outline of something vast and restrained. Something older than her face. Something afraid.

The children returned then, tugging at his sleeves, their hands soaked and half-clean. Magnolia laughed and rose to make space as they crowded around him.

“Another time,” she whispered. “I hope.”

McGeough watched her glide from the tavern.
The warmth she brought faded as the door closed behind her.

One child tugged on his cloak.

“Mister McGeough, where did the lady go?”

“She walks her own road,” he said.

“Is she nice?”

He hesitated.

“She is… kind.”

The child frowned. “That’s not the same thing.”

McGeough felt a tightness in his chest.
The child was correct.

Outside, the winter wind howled.
Inside, rumors swirled - of the blade, of Friar’s Wolves, of Kum’s boldness, of Father Tai’s silence, of the Guild’s worry.

McGeough’s fingers brushed the sealing cloth hidden in his pocket.

He felt it again - the old stirring, the warning he had long forgotten how to heed.

The road was changing.
And Magnolia…
Magnolia was changing as well.

The great path awaited.
And he would not walk it alone.

The Lantern Path of McGeough Completes