Left alone with his thoughts, Smith reached into his desk and retrieved an old photograph that held the weight of both cherished memories and an agonizing pain that clung to his soul. The faded image depicted three figures—himself, Laura, and a young girl named Eliana. As he gazed at the photograph, a tidal wave of bittersweet emotions crashed over him. The same thing had happend the night before when he had sought solace in the embrace of a bottle. It was the day Laura and Eli vanished from Shadow's End, a wound that time had cruelly refused to heal. The arrival of Cord on this haunting anniversary added an excruciating layer of pain, but within the contours of Laura's smiling face, Smith found the reluctant resolve to face the challenges that lay ahead.

Putting the photograph away, Smith knew that time was of the essence. With an air of determination, he stepped out into the muddy streets of Shadow's End, his boots splashing through puddles as he made his way to the outskirts of town. His destination: Larson's dwelling.

Larson, a figure veiled in mystery, held no place on Morrow's roster. The looming shadow of Cord's arrival would not touch him unless Commander Smith intervened.

As he navigated through the wet and shadowed streets, Smith noticed a familiar figure standing in the doorway of the bank. Martin Pace, the town's banker, glanced anxiously in Smith's direction before decisively intercepting him.

"Commander Smith!" Martin called out, his voice carrying a mix of concern and urgency. Smith paused, acknowledging the interruption. "Is it true? Has Killer Cord arrived on behalf of the council?" Martin's eyes, filled with a blend of apprehension and curiosity, bore into Smith's.

Smith sighed, realizing the news had spread faster than he anticipated. "Yes, Martin. We're handling it. No need to panic."

Martin nodded. "People are on edge, Commander. They know the consequences of taking matters into their own hands, but Cord's presence... it's unsettling."

As they exchanged these words, Martin subtly passed a folded note to Smith, who discreetly pocketed it without missing a beat in their conversation. The banker's eyes darted around, ensuring no prying eyes were witnessing the exchange.

Smith glanced at Martin, offering a brief but grateful nod. "Keep your composure, Martin. We'll manage this. I need to move along. Take care." With that, Smith continued on his path to Larson's dwelling.

Smith's firm knocks echoed through the wooden door of Larson's dwelling, urgency driving the force behind each rap. It swiftly swung open, revealing the towering figure of the man within.

"You choose to stay in this shack. I don't get it," Smith remarked, shaking off raindrops as he entered Larson's modest one-room abode. "The doctor's offered you a spot in the side-wings plenty of times."

Larson's face, cherubic in appearance, contradicted the gravelly tone of his voice. "Doubt you're here for a chat about my accommodations." He motioned for Smith to sit, tossing a piece of bread his way. "I heard you've been busy this morning. Another victim of the blood feather's curse."

"He's not dead yet; the doctor's still working on him."

"The doctor's good, brought you back from the dead, but he ain't a magician."

"How do you know..." Smith shook his head leaving things as they were. "Larson, I've got some bad news."

"I know. You wouldn't be here if it were good. Weren't you supposed to take a day off today? Let Morrow handle it?"

The thought that Larson might already know why he was here crossed Smith's mind, but he couldn't risk it. "The council sent a guy." Fear laced Smith's words as he anticipated Larson's reaction. However, the giant remained composed, casually sipping his coffee.

"I know. Eat the bread, Ed; you'll need it."

"How do you know? How can you stay so calm about it?"

"I saw Blayke at your office."

Smith stepped over to the table, whispering, "Cord's here."

Larson's smile broadened. "I know. Perhaps that's exactly what this town needed." The giant stood up, donning his raincoat.

"You can't be serious. As soon as he sees you, he'll know. Blayke has no clue, but Cord could refresh the council's memory."

"It's not like they don't know I'm here. There was some truth in those papers I gave you."

"I'm sure they will not be happy to realise we helped them forget by not adding you to the register, nor mentioning you in any of my reports."

"And I'm still grateful for that. Listen, Edward, don't worry so much. I can stay hidden when I choose to."

"You don't know Cord like I do." 

An over confident smirk came over Larson's face causing Smith to give up with a sigh. It was then that noticed the newspaper. "You have to stop giving him those."

"The doctor likes to stay informed."

"They're outdated, and half of it's lies anyway."

"He wouldn't need them if you shared a bit more."

Smith grew annoyed. "You know exactly why I don't tell him everything."

"The doctor has a good heart, Ed."

"That's exactly why he ended up here. Look, Christian is my friend. He saved my life more than once; he's been there for... He was there..." Pain and grief struck, making it impossible to mention Laura's name.

Larson tapped him on the shoulder, understanding the struggle. He had known her as well as he knew the doctor's assistant today.

"I'll make sure to stay clear of Cord. But don't just see his arrival as misfortune. He's the best at what he does. If you play it right, who knows, we all might benefit from it."

Larson gestured towards the leftovers on the table inviting Smith to help himself.

"See yourself out when you're done," Larson said, as he moved toward the door. "By the way, Ed, you might want to keep an eye on that woman who found the boy. Traveling alone, especially at night, in these parts, she's got more than a few things up her sleeve."

"I can tell she didn't end up here by coincidence as she claims. You already know I see through those as clear as through a window. She's here for her agenda, but it has hardly anything to do with the reason Cord is here."

Larson was already standing in the doorway. "Well, everyone's got their own reasons for ending up here, and I might be wrong, but it just doesn't feel like she's here for the right one."

Larson left before elaborating on his claim, leaving Smith doubting his impression of Miss Hattygam when he questioned her at the doctor's place.

Larson's words lingered in Smith's thoughts as he made his way back to the office.

"I should talk to her as soon as I've dealt with Cord," he muttered to himself. On his way, he caught sight of Jasper. "He could do the trick."

"Jasper! Keep an eye on Miss Hattygam. I need to talk to her as soon as she wakes up."

"She's at Gregor's?" Smith nodded and could not help but smile at Jasper's everlasting enthusiasm, no matter what job he gave him. "Now go and don't let her leave before I can speak with her."

As Jasper trotted off, the weather took a sinister turn. The relentless rain that had already soaked the town intensified, morphing into a torrential downpour. The deluge transformed the dusty streets into muddy streams, discouraging even the hardiest of souls from venturing out.

The graveyard, a silent witness to the town's history, held only one visitor. Larson approached a particular grave, its inscription weathered but still legible: Laura Haynes, Beloved Wife and Mother.

As Larson paid his respects, the damp earth under his fingertips seemed to carry the weight of years gone by. He spoke in hushed tones, a conversation with the echoes of the past. "She was a good woman, Cord. You did right by her memory."

In the shadows, Cord waited, his presence revealed only when Larson turned to face him. The rain, a somber backdrop to their clandestine meeting, cloaked them in a shroud of shared history. Cord's gaze, an unspoken acknowledgment, met Larson's as he held out a carefully folded package.

"You need to take these, Cord," Larson said, urgency lacing his words. "They're an omen—a curse. I've seen it before."

Cord, not a man to believe in curses, did acknowledge a giant man such as Larson could not be frightened easily. He accepted the package with a solemn nod, concealing it within his coat.

"Smith doesn't know. He came to warn me of your presence."

Cord looked at the gravestone, his face hardening.

"You better be right about this, old friend. I hate to have come out here for nothing."