It started as a rumor.
A whisper from caravans.
A passing line from sky-runners.
A note in a broken scroll archive:
"There's a fire that remembers nothing. And it lights anyway."
In the eastern marshes, a girl named Renn failed her third sect trial.
She was told she lacked potential, lacked resonance, lacked "spiritual complexity."
She wandered into the reedlands alone.
That night, with no scroll and no teacher—
She struck two stones together.
And watched as a thread of flame sparked up from her breath.
It did not burn brightly.
But it stayed.
And when she cupped it in her palms, she whispered:
"I never belonged."
"But this flame… doesn't seem to care."
Hundreds of leagues away, a boy named Ashun woke from a dream of a black tree wrapped in fireless smoke.
When he reached into his chest, there was no soulwheel.
But when he spoke aloud, "Begin," a spark flickered on the tip of his tongue.
No one had taught him that word.
And yet… he knew exactly when to say it.
In the Forge Mirror towers of the Soul Flame School, Wei Lin watched the anomalies rise.
The slate couldn't track them fast enough.
🔹 Memoryless Flames Detected: 17
🔹 Verified Origin: None
🔹 Known Forge Pattern: None
🔹 Shared Signature: Spontaneous, Unbound, Intention-aligned
Shen Tai stood behind him.
"They're not copying Tenji."
Lao Yun nodded. "They're answering the same question."
Wei said softly:
"And each one's flame looks completely different."
"Which means we're not witnessing a movement."
"We're witnessing a new origin layer."
Far below, in the ruined court vault, the ash throne pulsed again.
Its voice—no longer a whisper—echoed quietly across the soulstream:
"The question has spread."
"The answers no longer match."
"And that… is the sign."
Tenji, unaware of the growing wave, crouched beside a dying tree.
He wasn't trying to teach.
He simply said:
"Flame begins where I stop waiting to deserve it."
And another spark lit.