After the fracture, the path is remade in silence and loneliness. Each step feels deliberate, weighted with the memory of what has been burned away. No bridges remain, no resentment lingers for what might have been. This is the moment the soul chooses its direction - not from raw impulse, but from ancient knowing. Lessons carried through countless cycles, now forged into steady strength. This is no longer the original gasp of first breath. This is what’s rising from all that’s endured, a quiet endless flame anchored in ancient memory.