Go to Frost.
The very moment Lawrence heard this, he thought about the words "Martha" had once told him—he could no longer distinguish whether the Martha from that time was his own hallucination or if it was the "presence" emanating from this "Martha" in front of him, but one thing was certain, he should go to Frost.
But how?
"We've been searching here for a long time," Lawrence couldn't help but frown, "Ever since we left the City-State port under cover of night, the White Oak has never again found that City-State—we returned along the same route, but there was only a vast sea."
"You can't find it that way," Martha said with a smile, shaking her head, "Lawrence, Frost is avoiding you."
"Avoiding me?" Lawrence was startled, "Why?"
Martha didn't speak, only raising her hand to point at the Ghost Flame burning quietly on Lawrence's body.
