As the days passed after the new oath, Ravenswood settled into a peaceful rhythm. The web above the town glimmered each night, its threads strong and luminous. Yet, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, as if the town itself was holding its breath.
One afternoon, a stranger arrived. Clad in a travel-worn cloak and boots caked with dust, the newcomer paused at the edge of the square, taking in the festival banners and the laughter of children. Alex, ever the first to welcome outsiders, approached with a smile.
"Welcome to Ravenswood," Alex said, offering a loaf of fresh bread. "What brings you here?"
The stranger's eyes flickered to the web above before settling on Alex. "Call me Rowan. I've heard stories of a town protected by light and unity. I came to see if the tales were true."
Rowan's presence stirred curiosity and caution among the villagers. Some greeted him warmly, eager to share their stories. Others watched from a distance, remembering how quickly shadows could return. The Shadow Weaver observed Rowan from the chapel's doorway, his gaze thoughtful and unreadable.
That evening, as lanterns glowed and the web shimmered overhead, Rowan lingered at the edge of the square, watching the townsfolk with quiet intensity. Alex joined him, sensing both curiosity and something unspoken.
"Sometimes," Rowan said softly, "the greatest threats come not from outside, but from the secrets we keep within."
Alex felt a chill, unsure if Rowan's words were a warning or a reflection of his own journey. As night deepened, the web pulsed gently above, a silent promise that whatever shadows might come, Ravenswood would face them together.