Embermist Hollow survived the Battle of the Solstice Lantern Festival, but survival has done little to make the village feel victorious.  The dense fog still drifts between the evergreens.  The hot rivers still wind through the valley, and the familiar warm glow of lanterns still marks the crooked paths between homes.  But now, too many windows remain dark. Doors bear wreaths of white flowers.  Black cloth hangs from porches, and the slow tolling of bells has become more common than laughter.  Too many people died.  The Elsewhere Oak stands scarred and blackened where the portal tore open.  Brynhild Starkhelm's memorial has become a gathering place for candles and quiet prayers. Damage from the fighting remains throughout the village—broken stone, scorched timber, hastily repaired roofs, and places where no one has yet found the heart to rebuild.
 
The Wrong Turn Tavern is quieter now.  Conversations stop when certain names are mentioned.  Empty chairs have become painfully noticeable. Even the Lamplighters seem subdued as they make their evening rounds, ensuring that the lanterns of Embermist Hollow continue burning for those who remain.  And beneath the grief, something uglier has begun to grow.  

Rumors.

The newcomers arrived, and shortly afterward came the wererats, bloodshed, strange magic, redcaps, the Velvet Briar Ensemble, and finally the horror at the Elsewhere Oak. Few villagers know the whole story. Fewer still understand what truly happened.  But everyone understands coincidence.  Some call the adventurers heroes. They saw them fight. They know what would have happened had no one stood against the creatures that descended upon the Hollow.  Others whisper a different story.  None of this happened before they came.  Shopkeepers who once greeted the party warmly now watch them carefully. Conversations occasionally fall silent when they enter a room.  A mother might quietly pull her child closer as they pass. Someone has scrawled GO HOME near one of the village paths, though by morning the Lamplighters have already scrubbed most of it away.  No one has openly accused them of causing the catastrophe.  Not yet.  For now, Embermist Hollow mourns its dead, repairs what can be repaired, and tries to understand what has happened to the little village that once seemed forgotten by the rest of the world.  The lanterns still burn.  But their light feels different now.  And when the new heroes walk beneath them, some villagers look upon them with gratitude. Others with fear.  And a growing few with blame.