That night, every student touched by Coalspark dreamed the same dream.
Not vivid.
Not loud.
Just a breath—carried in heat, without voice, without name.
A whisper that wasn't heard…
…but felt.
Lao Yun dreamed of walking across a river of coal. The fire did not light. But the coal was warm.
Wei Lin stood in a vast hall of unburned scrolls. Not sealed. Not written. Just waiting.
Shen Tai sat atop a pillar of smoke that reached into darkness with no stars. Not lost. Just never mapped.
And each of them heard it:
A question that did not belong to gods, masters, or legacies.
"Would you light a world with no memory of flame?"
Not rebuild.
Not reclaim.
Light.
The next morning, Wei Lin awoke with sweat across his palms.
He didn't speak the dream aloud.
But when he walked to the archive slate, a single new entry had appeared without being carved:
Flameform Variant: [Unbound Root]
Origin: Untraced.
Authorization: None.
Nameholder: None.
Forge Status: Unknown.
🔻 Status: Awaiting First Spark.
Lao Yun felt it too.
Her Stitchfire flames pulsed against her skin like a signal—not warning, but invitation.
Shen Tai walked to the old edge of the forge ring and looked down into the quiet earth.
"It's calling."
Not to be followed.
Not to be praised.
Just…
To be started.
Far beneath them all, the ash throne of the Old Court whispered one final line into the soulstream:
"You have lit many flames…"
"Now light the one that remembers none."
"And let the world begin again."