It didn't spread like the other paths.
There were no students copying her steps.
No scrolls describing her rhythm.
No diagrams of her breath or chi.
But across the provinces…
People began remembering her walk.
Even if they had never seen her.
A potter in the Ashroot District paused one morning mid-spin, and said to her apprentice:
"There's a way to let fire shape without touching it."
She didn't know why she said it.
But her apprentice never forgot.
A boy delivering water in the hills stopped halfway through his route.
He turned, walked the long way home, and when asked why, he answered:
"Because the long way felt more honest."
And the next morning, his footsteps left faint warmth on the ground.
No one said:
"This is a technique."
"This is a style."
"This is a cultivation method."
They only said:
"There's something near me."
Back in the circle, Tenji sat quietly, feeling the air.
He whispered:
"The flame she didn't carry… is starting to be carried by others."
Renn asked, "But how? There's no form."
Ashun answered, "There's no need."
The sparkless boy finally spoke:
"She didn't show a path."
"She made space where a path could walk."
In the Soul Flame Archive, dozens of blank scrolls began vibrating.
Words did not appear.
But dozens of cultivators opened them… and understood.
They couldn't say why.
They couldn't explain what they'd read.
Because nothing had been written.
But something had been remembered.
For the first time in recorded history, the soulstream entered a classification it never prepared for:
🔹 Flamepath: [Undefined/Unwritten]
🔹 Spread Method: Passive Echo
🔹 Teacher: None
🔹 Anchor: None
🔹 Influence: Present in all provinces
🔹 Remark:
"This path does not teach.
This path does not speak.
And yet… it walks beside us."
And in the ash throne's chamber—now hollow and peaceful—The Fire That Waits whispered no more.
Because its waiting had become walking.