Firefolk Era, year sixty-six, winter solstice night.
Beside the Ruin Abyss Well, snow fell without a sound.
The Charcoal-Pencil Forest lay quiet. The river of light flowed unseen through the earth's veins, its fireflies drifting silently like stars. Suddenly, a strange sight appeared—
Lamps long extinguished rose of their own accord across the Nine Provinces, floating slowly upward without a flame.
They did not burn, did not shine. They were simply empty, their wicks charred, their walls weathered, yet they flew toward the Ruin Abyss Well as though lifted by invisible hands.
The first came from Soulbreak Valley in the Northern Border.
It was the lamp of a caravan leader who had vanished three years earlier. Cracks webbed its body, and its oil had long since dried. It floated through the wind and snow, and within its shade, a scene from the past appeared—
The caravan crossed a snowy plain. Beside a campfire, a child offered him a bowl of hot porridge. He smiled and said, "I'll have it when I get home."
But that night, wind and snow swallowed everything.
The lamp reached the Ruin Abyss Well and trembled softly. In its images, he saw himself lying in the snow, half a piece of dry rations clenched in his hand, his lips still murmuring, "Save it for... Xiaoman..."
The second came from Forgotten River Ridge in the Western Desert.
It was an exile's old lamp, the word "guilt" carved into its base. It flew across the desert. Within it appeared a scene: he knocked down his younger brother and seized control of the well; his sister-in-law threw herself into it, and every night, he heard water in his dreams.
**But when the lamp reached Ruin Abyss, the sound of water suddenly stopped. In its images, his sister-in-law emerged from