"The guest book is changing," Felix announced over breakfast. He'd gone to check its pages after his morning music practice, only to find its golden threads had transformed into something new. "The signatures aren't just connecting anymore. They're... telling stories."

Indeed, each name had begun to glow with its own particular light, and the threads between them had become more like streams of memories, flowing and merging into a larger narrative.

"Look," Pip said, watching as signatures from past and present began to arrange themselves in elegant spirals. "They're forming family trees. Not just blood relations, but... chosen families. Legacy lines."

Lady Corvina leaned closer, her quill darting across her latest journal. "Innkeepers and their successors, wanderers and their guides, lost souls and those who found them..." She shifted into her raven form briefly, getting an aerial view of the patterns. "It's like a map of belonging."

Gus touched one of the flowing lines with a granite finger, and suddenly the air filled with echoes of conversations from across centuries:

"...teach you everything I know about running an inn..." "...passing down the secrets of stone-shaping..." "...your music reminds me of stories older than memory..."

"The network," Aunt Maple said from her seat by the window, where she'd been studying her own notebooks, "is remembering how it grew. Not just through magic, but through teaching. Through sharing. Through choosing to pass on what we've learned."

The heart-lines from yesterday still glowed in the walls, but now they seemed to be reaching toward the guest book's legacy patterns, as if trying to complete a circuit of understanding.

"But why now?" Pip asked, just as the front door chimed.

They turned to find a young girl standing in the doorway, clutching a small suitcase and looking both terrified and determined. Behind her, they could see what appeared to be the ruins of another inn, its walls crumbling as the last of its magic faded.

"Please," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "My grandmother's inn is dying. She said... she said you could teach me how to save it."

The guest book's pages turned by themselves to a blank section, a fresh quill materializing beside it, waiting for a new line of legacy to begin.

"Come in," Pip said softly, recognizing the look in the girl's eyes - the same desperate hope she'd felt when she'd first arrived at the inn. "I'm Pip. What's your name?"

"Rose," the girl answered, her gaze darting between the heart-lines glowing in the walls and the legacy patterns flowing through the guest book. "My grandmother's inn, The Steadfast Haven... it's been in our family for seven generations. But now..."

"The old magic is failing," Aunt Maple finished gently. "Like so many fixed points in the network."

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Rose nodded, tears threatening. "She said we had to learn something new. Something about... wandering while staying still?" She looked around helplessly. "I don't understand how that's possible."

"Oh, but it is," Gus rumbled, his granite form catching the light of both heart-lines and legacy patterns. "Let me show you something." He pressed his hand against the wall, and suddenly they could all see the layered magics that kept the inn whole - roots and wings, anchors and winds, all dancing together.

Felix began playing, his music making the patterns visible as notes in the air. "Every inn has its own song," he explained. "The trick is learning how to let it change without losing its melody."

Lady Corvina shifted between her forms, demonstrating. "Like this - still myself, whether feathered or not. The magic doesn't break when we change; it grows."

Rose watched, wonder replacing fear in her eyes. "Can you teach me? Can you show me how to help our inn learn this too?"

"Better," Aunt Maple said, producing a familiar-looking key. "We can help you teach your inn itself." She smiled at Pip. "Just as another young innkeeper once learned."

What followed was a lesson unlike any other. They showed Rose how heart-lines could stretch without breaking, how legacy patterns could evolve while keeping their core truth, how magic could dance between stillness and motion. The inn itself seemed to join in teaching, its rooms shifting to demonstrate different aspects of flexible stability.

"You see," Pip explained as Rose practiced extending a heart-line between her family's inn and The Last Stop Inn, "it's not about choosing between rooted and wandering magic. It's about understanding that all magic needs both - just like a tree needs both deep roots and swaying branches."

"The network isn't just connections," Lady Corvina added, her quill recording these new teachings. "It's generations of knowledge passed down, transformed, and passed on again. Each inn adding its own verse to the endless song."

As evening fell, Rose stood in the doorway of a vine-portal that now connected directly to The Steadfast Haven. Through it, they could see her grandmother's inn beginning to glow with renewed purpose, its old magics awakening to new possibilities.

"Remember," Aunt Maple said, handing Rose a small notebook that looked very much like her own, "legacy isn't just what we inherit. It's what we choose to become."

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Guest Book Entry: "Rose of The Steadfast Haven: Where old roots learn new dances, and young branches remember ancient songs. May this signature mark the beginning of a new way of growing."

New Verse of Felix's Inn Song: "When old and new together flow, And teaching lights the way, The Last Stop Inn shows hearts how to Both anchor and to sway..."

Lady Corvina's Chronicle Entry: "First documented case of active magical heritage evolution! Traditional fixed-point inn successfully incorporating wandering principles while maintaining foundational stability. Note: Legacy patterns suggest this may have been the original intention of the network's design. Additional Note: Young Rose shows remarkable aptitude for hybrid magical architecture. Final Note: Must establish proper curriculum for future students."

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Later, after Rose had returned home (though the vine-portal remained, humming with possibility), Pip found her aunt smiling at the guest book's legacy patterns.

"You planned this, didn't you?" Pip asked. "All those notebooks you've been filling - they're not just research. They're textbooks."

"The network is changing," Aunt Maple replied. "It needs teachers as much as innkeepers now. Places that can show others how to transform without losing themselves." She touched one of the glowing legacy lines. "After all, what's the point of finding a better way if you don't share it?"

The inn creaked in agreement, its heart-lines and legacy patterns weaving together into something that looked very much like hope.

"Well," Felix said, playing a chord that made all the teaching echoes hum, "I suppose this means we should prepare more guest rooms. Something tells me Rose won't be our only student."

Gus nodded, already sketching plans for expanding the inn's teaching spaces. "Some legacies," he said with granite certainty, "are meant to grow."