Year six of the Firefolk Era, the spring equinox.
The Starfire River of the Nine Provinces surged as always, its streams of light woven together, but the observant noticed—the colors of the starfire had changed.
It was no longer uniformly crimson-gold, but shimmered with warm orange, faint red, pale blue-green, soft white... as varied as human hearts. Some said this was the new life born of the Heart of Civilization's awakening; others said it came from the mingling of the Starfire Envoys' individual Heart Flames.
But only those chosen by the starfire marks knew—the change in starfire arose from the awakening of the "Heart Flame."
That night, the newly appointed Starfire Envoy A He kept watch in Gray Ridge Village when the Starfire Lamp in her hand suddenly swayed without a breeze. Its flame coalesced into a phantom: the young Zhaoming stood amid the firelight, his features gentle. Without a word, he lightly touched her chest with a fingertip.
"You have lit the hearth fire, but have you ever lit your own heart?"
The voice brushed her ears like wind, neither real nor unreal, yet reached straight into her soul.
A He froze. She had grown up poor, knowing only to light fires to earn her living and tend lamps for her fellow villagers. Yet she had never asked herself—Why do I burn?
She lowered her head and saw an image of her childhood self appear in the flame, curled up in a dilapidated house, with only a wisp of dying embers left in the hearth. Back then, she had whispered, "If one day I could light a lamp, not for warmth, not for cooking, but just... to let others see the light, that would be enough."
The flame leaped, and Zhaoming's phantom chuckled softly. "That is the Heart Flame."