Frost.
Lawrence instantly thought of the words "Martha" had once said to him. He could no longer distinguish whether the Martha of that time was his own hallucination or the "presence" emanating from the "Martha" before him, but he could be certain of one thing: he should go to Frost.
But how to get there?
"We've been searching for a long time," Lawrence couldn't help frowning as he spoke, "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, and there was only the sea."
"We can't find it this way," Martha said with a smile, shaking her head, "Lawrence, Frost is hiding from you."
"Hiding from me?" Lawrence was momentarily stunned, "Why?"
Martha didn't speak but simply raised her hand to point at the Ghost Ship Flames quietly burning on Lawrence's body.
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