Ashmark stirred as dawn broke across its spiraled rooftops. In the weeks following the return from Aenarith, the city had grown—not in size, but in depth.
Every brick felt older, wiser. Every citizen moved with the awareness of a shared story. And beneath it all, the Looms continued to fill, thread by thread, moment by moment.
Kaelin found herself wandering more often.
Not because she sought solitude.
But because silence, in this new age, had become sacred.
Each quiet path was an invitation to listen.
One morning, she entered the Chamber of Sparks, an ancient hall that predated even the Flame Wars. Inside, children sat cross-legged around a fire, listening to an old woman recount a tale of a forgotten sun.
Kaelin leaned against the threshold.
The children didn’t notice her.
But th
