The courtyard behind the Coalspark forge was quiet.
Night wind moved through the soulvine trees, whispering across glowing stones.
Lao Yun sat cross-legged beneath them.
Her cuffs were gone.
Her body was safe.
But her flame…
Flickered wrong.
It pulsed with three rhythms now:
One steady and golden—her own.
One cold and sharp—the forced graft.
And one lost between them—uncertain.
Wei Lin stood nearby, watching.
He didn't speak.
Neither did Shen Tai.
Because this wasn't a problem they could solve.
It was a choice only she could make.
Lao Yun finally opened her eyes.
"It's not coming back."
Wei stepped closer. "It might take time."
She shook her head.
"No, I mean… the flame I first lit—Coalspark—it's not mine anymore."
"I feel it… but I don't trust it."
"The graft they used—it rewrote part of me."
Her voice was calm.
But her flame shimmered with grief.
Wei sat beside her.
"Then don't try to restore it."
She blinked. "What?"
He looked out at the moon.
"You were the first spark. But that doesn't mean you have to keep the same fire."
"You don't owe anyone a return."
"You owe yourself what's next."
Shen Tai added from behind them:
"You were rewritten. So rewrite back."
"Not to what was."
"To what you choose now."
Lao Yun closed her eyes again.
Let her breath settle.
She reached inward—
Felt the stitched flame at her core.
And instead of peeling it apart…
She did something no Devourer or Reclaimer ever tried:
She wove them together.
Not with technique.
With grace.
Her golden flame folded over the cold graft, not erasing it, not cleansing it…
But teaching it how to feel.
A new flame formed.
Blue at the center.
Silver threaded in gold.
Soft. Sharp. Whole.
The forge slate near her pulsed.
New path detected.
No name available.
Awaiting designation.
She whispered:
"I'll call it… Stitchfire."
"A path for those who've been broken."
"And chose to light themselves anyway."
The slate accepted it.
And the Coalspark forge…
Smiled.