Spring of year sixty of the Firefolk Era, beside the Ruin Abyss Well.
Xiaoman stood at the mouth of the well, gripping the Heart Flame charcoal pen. Its tip was faintly warm, like a heartbeat.
"The well is alive, but its pulse is still unsteady," he told A He. "I dreamed the Heart Flame River was calling out. It couldn't find the 'names' of the Nine Provinces."
A He bent down and looked into the well—the clear spring water had risen three feet, its shimmering surface reflecting the sky and the weathered old inscriptions on the walls: "Granny Li," carved when she had guarded the well; "A Zhou," the mark the boy had left after sweeping the streets; and "A He traveled here," its strokes shallow and deep, like the whispers of years.
"Names... are anchors," A He said softly. "They anchor the fire, anchor the pulse, anchor the way home."
Xiaoman nodded. "I'm going to carve the names of the Nine Provinces into the bottom of the well."
Three days later, at the spring equinox festival.
The children of Ruin Abyss Alley gathered around the well, each holding a charcoal pen—made by Su Li using Dream Drawing, with the child's name carved into its shaft and Heart Flame Wood ash blended into its core. One touch would set it alight, unafraid of wind or rain.
Xiaoman was the first to descend into the well.
The walls were wet and slippery, mottled with moss. She stepped barefoot onto the stone stairs, a little Wandering Lantern in one hand and a charcoal pen in the other. Stroke by stroke, she carved the first name—"Granny Li."
The charcoal pen touched stone. There was no sound, but there was light.
When "Li" was finished, the well water trembled;
When "Granny" was complete, **the