Three nights later, under a moonless sky, a stranger arrived.
Draped in pale robes and carrying a staff of ashwood, the man entered the village with no sound—only silence. His face was covered by a white half-mask shaped like a flame, and his eyes shimmered with the glow of spirit veins.
The village elder recognized the symbol burned into his chest.
> "A Seeker," she whispered. "A Flamebound… here?"
That night, the man came to Qingsai's home. Luren, stone-faced but cautious, let him in. The Seeker bowed, then turned to Qingsai.
"You are not merely a boy," he said. "You are a vessel. You hold the echo of thirteen lifetimes, each more sacred and dangerous than the last."
Qingsai's blood ran cold.
"How do you know?"
The Seeker unrolled a scroll. Upon it: a flame sigil surrounded by six elemental rings, and at its center—a name burned in gold:
> QINGSAI – Cycle 14 – Spirit That Sleeps
"You are the Soulkindled, boy," the Seeker said. "And your flame… is about to wake."