Three days later, the Lanternwife Inn creaks beneath harbor wind outside Phandelver. Salt, lamp oil, and rain scent the weathered room Mara and Vetta have taken.
A young woman with russet braids, a broad wool shawl, and ink-stained fingers sets a sealed bundle on the table before withdrawing without touching its cord.
Vetta
The sender paid for quiet delivery, love. No summons, no threat, and no living signature I can sense.
The wrapping is old Domini cloth, faded from black to gray. Beneath its twine rests a dark wax seal bearing no house crest, only a small open circle.
Vetta
Someone found a way to return the past without claiming it. That does not make the offering harmless.
A narrow card lies beneath the cord, its handwriting careful and unadorned. The message invites conversation about the belongings and promises no demand for their return.
Vetta
We can leave it sealed, examine the visible terms, or hear what the sender has to say. The choice remains yours.
Establish whether the bundle makes a claim on Mara
Learn the sender’s purpose for returning the belongings