"Time is folding again," Lady Corvina announced, her feathers vibrating with magical tension as she shifted between forms. "But it's different from before. More... deliberate."

The inn's windows had begun showing different eras simultaneously - past, present, and something else that made Pip's eyes blur when she tried to focus on it. Unlike their accidental visit to the foundation site, this felt purposeful, as if the inn was trying to create a meeting point between times.

"Look at the guest book," Felix called from the lobby. The book had lifted itself from its pedestal, pages turning so fast they became a golden blur. Each signature seemed to be trying to occupy the same space at once, creating a shimmering web of names that spanned centuries.

Gus pressed his newly renewed hand against the wall, ancient runes glowing beneath his granite skin. "The inn is pulling at all its anchors. Every welcome ever given, every sanctuary offered..." His voice took on the weight of centuries. "It's trying to gather its strength."

"But for what?" Pip wondered, watching her aunt's notebook fill with urgent writing:

"When patterns change too fast, magic seeks balance in memory. The first welcome remembers the way. Trust the story that hasn't happened yet."

Before anyone could decipher this typically cryptic message, the front door swung open. But instead of revealing the misty evening outside, it showed a threshold that seemed to open onto multiple moments at once. Through it stepped three figures:

The First Innkeeper, looking both younger and older than when they'd last seen her, carrying what appeared to be building plans that kept redrawing themselves.

The First Chronicler, their paper form more solid than before, holding records that hadn't been written yet.

And between them, someone new - a traveler whose clothes and appearance seemed to shift with each step, as if they couldn't decide which time they belonged to.

"The inn," the traveler said, their voice echoing strangely, "sends its own welcome to itself." They smiled at Pip's confused expression. "Yes, I'm the first guest. The one who taught the inn how to need wandering."

"You're the reason it changed?" Felix asked, playing a chord that made the temporal overlaps harmonize briefly.

"No," the First Innkeeper corrected. "They're the reason it knew it could." She spread her ever-changing plans across the front desk. "But now we need that knowledge again. The patterns aren't just shifting anymore. They're..."

"Shattering," the First Chronicler finished, their pages rustling with concern. "And this time, it's not just one inn that needs to learn how to wander. It's the whole network."

The traveler turned to Pip, their form settling momentarily into something more definite. "That's why we're here. To show you the first welcome - not just as memory, but as possibility. Because sometimes..." They gestured at the time-twisted doorway behind them. "Sometimes the only way forward is to remember how to begin."

The First Innkeeper's plans spread across the desk, showing not just the inn's original design but countless variations - every form it had taken, would take, might take. "The network isn't just breaking," she explained. "It's trying to evolve. But it's forgotten how."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Like when the ley lines first shifted," Lady Corvina realized, her quill moving frantically. "But bigger. The whole magical framework is..."

"Learning to wander," the traveler finished. Their form flickered through different versions of themselves - lost, found, guided, home. "Just as I once did. Just as the inn did. Just as magic itself must."

Felix played a sequence that caught echoes of every welcome song he'd written for the inn. The notes twisted together, forming a pattern that matched the First Innkeeper's ever-changing plans.

"The music understands," the First Chronicler nodded, their pages aligning with Felix's melody. "It's never been about staying or going. It's about knowing why you do either."

Gus touched the wall again, and everyone could see what he saw - the countless magical paths between inns glowing like constellations, each one pulsing with purpose. "The network isn't breaking," he said slowly. "It's remembering how to dance."

"Yes!" The First Innkeeper's eyes lit up. "That's what we need to show everyone. Not just the wandering inns, but the fixed ones too. Each has its purpose, its own way of welcoming, but together..." She gestured, and the plans began moving like music made visible.

"We need to recreate the first welcome," Pip said, understanding dawning as her aunt's notebook filled with new words. "Not just for us, but for every magical place. Show them all how to change without losing themselves."

The traveler smiled. "Now you understand why your aunt's been so busy. She's been preparing the way, helping other places learn what yours already knows."

"But how do we—" Pip began, but she was interrupted by a sound like every door in the world opening at once.

The inn shuddered, and suddenly they could see through its walls into every magical establishment in existence - grand hotels and humble hostels, fixed hearths and wandering waypoints, each one connected by the golden threads of welcome.

"Together," the First Innkeeper said firmly, taking Pip's hands. "The way it was always meant to be."

What followed was either miracle or magic - probably both. The First Innkeeper's knowledge, the First Chronicler's records, and the First Guest's need wove together with the team's own gifts: Felix's music drawing paths between fixed and wandering magic, Lady Corvina's chronicles binding past and future into understanding, Gus's renewed strength anchoring change in purpose, and Pip's brewing magic helping everything transform.

The inn became a lens, focusing the first welcome outward to every magical place connected to the network. Each establishment felt the echo of that original choice - not between staying and wandering, but between fear and possibility.

When it was done, the temporal overlay settled. The three visitors began to fade, but the First Guest turned back one last time: "Remember - hospitality isn't about where you are. It's about how far you're willing to go to help."

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Guest Book Entry: "A signature spanning all times: Welcome is never just about one moment, one place, or one need. It's about making space for all possible changes."

New Verse of Felix's Inn Song: "When magic learns to dance anew, And paths untangle true, The Last Stop Inn leads wandering hearts To show what welcome knew..."

Lady Corvina's Chronicle Entry: "PARADIGM-SHIFTING EVENT WITNESSED! Network-wide magical restructuring initiated through application of original welcome protocols! Note: Must entirely reconceptualize classification system for magical establishments. Additional Note: Suspect this is just the beginning. Final Note: Aunt Maple's research now makes CONSIDERABLY more sense."

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Later, as the inn settled into what felt like every location at once and none at all, a final letter appeared:

"Dearest Pip, Now you know why I had to step back - some changes need space to grow. The network is awakening to its true nature, and it will need guidance from those who remember how to begin. Keep our inn wandering, keep its welcome strong, and most importantly, keep watching the spaces between. That's where the real magic happens. All my love, Aunt Maple P.S. You might want to prepare some guest rooms. I suspect we're about to become very popular with magical establishments looking to learn the art of wandering..."

The inn hummed with anticipation, its foundations sure, its purpose clear, its welcome ready for whatever changes magic might bring next.

"Well," Felix said, playing a chord that made reality ripple with possibility, "I suppose this explains why the guest book's been getting ideas."

Pip looked at her team - her family - and smiled. Sometimes the best way to face change was to welcome it in for tea.