Year sixteen of the Firefolk Era, the spring equinox.
Across the Nine Provinces, all things stirred back to life. The fissure at the Ruins of Return had become a source of Light Veins, its crimson-gold torrents of flame surging like rivers from south to north. Outside Ashridge Village, a corridor nine li long had quietly been completed, winding along the mountain slopes beside the Fire Vein. Its name was the Light River Corridor.
The corridor had neither roof nor walls, only rows of bluestone lamp pillars stretching from the foot of the mountain into the clouds. Beneath each lamp was set a Jade Slip, engraved with a whisper from the Words of the Lamp Guarders. A Ya had personally overseen the inscriptions, using the Heart Flame as a guide to condense the voices of a thousand lamps into jade. At night, the lamps lit themselves and the Jade Slips glowed. Anyone who approached, closed their eyes, and stilled their heart could hear whispers rising from the flames:
"I am willing to keep watch for one more winter."
"As long as the hearth fire has not gone out, home is still there."
"Finish the journey for me."
"I burned, too."
These were neither legends nor epitaphs, but real voices—countless Lamp Guarders speaking to later generations across life and death, with fire as their medium.
The people of the Nine Provinces traveled a thousand li to reach it, supporting the elderly and leading their children by the hand. Some came to hear, "Father guarded a lamp for three years." Some came seeking, "Mother, I have lit the lamp." Others wanted only to sit quietly beneath a lamp for a moment and feel that thread of warmth reaching across time. Children ran among the lamp pillars, elders wept before the Jade Slips, and