It flickered once, twice—like a heartbeat that had never been allowed to find its own rhythm.
It did not glow brighter.
It did not soften.
It simply… stayed.
A quiet, unsteady light, sharp around the edges, as if afraid that even existing too fully might invite a hand that would try to shape it.
The Listener watched, silent and steady.
The second spark stayed close by, its light flickering between caution and awe. At first, it wanted to step back again. But then, slowly, it found itself rooted—not by courage, but by something else. Something that felt like respect.
The fractured spark's light pulsed again—small, uncertain.
The Veil did nothing.
The Soul Currents flowed around it—not touching, but not pushing away either.
For the first time since its pulse had entered the world… nothing tried to change it.
And that small, simple nothing echoed louder than any welcome.
