Year sixty-seven of the Firefolk Era, the summer solstice.
From that night onward, the lamp beside the Ruin Abyss Well never went out again.
It burned no oil, borrowed no wind, depended on no flow of earth veins, and needed no reflected light from the stars or moon. It simply shone—gentle, steady, waxing and waning like a breath, as though a heart had sunk into the mortal world and was beating softly in the dark. The people called it the "Guardian Lamp," and some called it the "Homecoming Lamp," but only those who had truly lost their way in the wilderness or languished in the Heart Abyss knew—this light could speak.
Xiaoman was gone.
Yet he had never left.
His form had become lamplight, his consciousness dissolved into the glow like salt in water, unseen and formless, yet everywhere. He no longer spoke with his mouth, but through light language; no longer measured the world with his steps, but illuminated it with his heart. He had become the first conscious lamp in the Nine Provinces, had become a Light Speaker.
At first, no one heard him.
They only felt that the light beside the well was unusually gentle. Travelers passed and found their hearts settling; those who stood alone paused and suddenly felt less alone; those walking by night looked up and saw a little path emerge within the light, winding north toward home.
Later, people began to keep records.
A caravan from the Western Desert lost its way in a sandstorm. With food and water exhausted, they suddenly saw a faint light drifting ahead. Within it appeared an old well, and beside the well sat a woman holding a lamp. She said softly, "Three li east, there is a spring." They followed her words and survived. Upon returning, they