The Lantern’s Invitation

Evermist Lore, Part 2 — A Tale of Choice and Planting

When the last echoes of the Festival of Shifting Lights faded, a heavy stillness fell across Evermist.

The fog, once alive with laughter and glittering Wishstones, now hung thick and tired. Broken masks and cracked stones lay scattered across the ground, abandoned by those too weary to keep chasing.

But not everything had faded.

In a clearing near the heart of the forest, a soft lantern burned — steady, not swaying with the mist.

And beside it sat a cat no taller than a satchel, her tail wrapped neatly around her paws, eyes reflecting the light she carried.

Maneki waited.

She didn't shout or lure. She simply sat there, a quiet presence in the middle of all the noise Evermist had forgotten how to stop making.

It wasn’t long before the first dwellers — still masked as foxes, wolves, and crows — wandered close, curiosity tugging at their tired steps. One, his mask cracked right through the eye, called out:

"What’s your trick?"

Maneki blinked slowly. Her voice was calm enough to make the mist shiver.

"No trick. Just a path. If you’re tired of running, you can walk it with me."

In her paw, she held a tiny seed. Dry. Ordinary. It didn’t glow. It didn’t sing.

"Plant it. Water it. Visit it. That's all."

The dwellers shifted uncomfortably.

"No prize? No crowds to cheer?"

A few scoffed and turned away. A few hesitated, torn between the thrill they knew and the silence they feared.

One small rabbit-mask lingered. His pockets were stuffed with broken Wishstones, each one a reminder of a story that never quite finished. Slowly, almost ashamed, he took the seed and tucked it away.

Maneki rose and began to walk — not toward the brightest lights, but deeper into the mist. At first, only a handful followed. And when they did, something curious happened:

Their shapes began to shift. Slowly, gently — their old masks slipping away, replaced by soft ears, gentle paws, and a lantern of their own, dim at first but growing stronger with every step.

Not transformations from magic — transformations from decision.

They found small patches of soil, untouched by the rush of the festival, and planted their seeds.

No fanfare. No fireworks. Just small stones laid carefully in circles, marking the start of something no one else could see — yet.

High above the mist, unseen at first, a shadow circled: a great Green Dragon, old as the forest itself.

She had watched many Festivals, many promises made and broken. But now she dipped her wings, sending down a warm rain, as if offering silent approval to these strange new gardens.

Not all watched with kindness.

Mara, still draped in the remnants of her Festival lights, lounged on a broken stage, watching Maneki's little procession.

"You really think planting seeds will beat the thrill of the chase?" - she said with a grin too wide. "No one tells legends about waiting around."

Maneki didn't argue. She only smiled, her lantern steady against the swirling mist.

"We're not here for legends," - she said. "We’re here for roots."

For a while, Evermist balanced between two songs. The restless echo of the Festival still pulling at hearts — and the quiet patience of the growing gardens.

But Mara was not done.

In the places where no seeds had yet been planted, where doubt clung like cold mist, she began to weave something new.

Something tempting. Something faster than seeds and easier than waiting. And deep in the forest, the wind carried a whisper:

"Not everyone who took a seed will see it bloom."

The true test had only just begun.