[i]I was born in fire, too,[/i] says the stone, plucked from the jar. Its voice is as clear as crystal and soft as a spring mist. Rose from the River holds it in her palm, fingers loose. She can feel the warmth of the sunlight trapped within. She does not need to understand how this came to be; most certainly Yue herself does not know. The sunlight that shines from it and its colleagues is kind, soporific, and buttery. Under its light, the scene is still, and all prick their ears to listen. It is a listening-light, a revelation-light, a very special light indeed.

[i]I would have destroyed anyone who tried to hold me, too,[/i] the stone continues. It is not kind, it is not cruel. It merely is. [i]I burned hot and bright and changed my shapes as the fire played around me. Then I was buried in the earth, and my fire died.[/i]

“I was buried, too,” Rose says, taking a seat with her back to a tree. She runs the stone between her fingers as the trees bend their heads closer to listen. “There in the dark, unable to get out of my dreams.”

[i]Then a girl found me in the dark,[/i] the stone continues. [i]She carved me into a shape she liked. Pinned on her chest, I shone.[/i]

“And then you hopped off her chest and ran away,” Rose from the River says, languid, one eyebrow raised dangerously even so. Even the spells of this gentle world can push too far. If she roused herself from enchantment, she could crush this stone into glittering powder, and they both know it.

[i]No. She gave me away. She did not love me any more. I grew grey and dusty, and could not shine. Then Yue took me and cleaned me and thought me glass, and set me in the light of the last sun. But I remember who I was.[/i]

“There is the difference,” Rose says, mildly. “You are only dangerous because of what you make us do on your behalf. You cannot kill someone unless slipped in their soup or thrown at their head, and even then, someone else chose for you.”

[i]I remember the fire inside me. When I shine, I can light that fire inside others. It burns them and makes them wild. That is why my mother set me on her breast. That is why she made me beautiful.[/i]

“I am the flower and the tree grown from the salt sea grown from the fire that consumes,” Rose says. Sunlight plays about her as a halo. “And I chose my beauty for myself. But still I have thorns, and still the fire groans trapped in my roots.”

[i]Do you like what you are?[/i]

“Yes. That’s why I wrap the laws of the Way around me in bands. If they show me how to grow, maybe I will never have to use this body as kindling. There is a dragon inside of me; there is a queen of thorns inside of me. I could be a peer of the Pyre, queen of the mountain forests and caves, commander of goblin-armies. I could trap little Chen in deep roots and change her into strange shapes. I could take Yue and shut her mouth and seal her away in my stony bed so that she would never discover her own secrets, and I would always be safe from her. I could hurt people, little stone, and I would choose to hurt people for one reason or another, and left on my own I would grow into a shape that would challenge the Princesses of this world, and under the control of another I would become a weapon more terrible than anything this world has seen since the suns fell. I am dangerous, little stone, and you are merely coveted. You do not have thorns for a heart. Because I do not want to be destruction biding its time any more— that is why I follow the Way.”

The stone considers this in the blanket-soft silence. The fire makes no sound, the trees hold their breath, and Cyanis rests her head on Yue’s shoulder and silently wags her tails, watching the dialogue.

[i]Must I then follow the Way?[/i]

“I do not know if even stones must choose between the Way and the many fallen paths of this world. Do not toss yourself underfoot and do not become hateful, I should think. The rest will come naturally: long, deep stone-dreams, and yielding to fate, which acts upon stones and mountains alike. Still, it might not hurt to know: the mantra of my teacher is [i]aum shantae aum[/i], which is the sound of the nine suns opening their petals forever. Meditate on it, if you like.”

[i]Will the Way return me to my mother? I miss her.[/i]

“All shall be well, in the end, and all manner of thing shall be well; we shall find ourselves in the place we were always meant to be, with the people we were always meant to know. If you are right for each other, then in the end, you will find yourselves there, too. At the end of the Way. That is our promise.”

[i]Thank you, Dòu-zhànshèng-fó.[/i]

“Shhh. I’m Rose from the River. That’s enough for here and now.”

[i]Thank you, Rose from the River. I will consider these things in my heart.[/i]

And then there is no more light, and the world returns, sheepishly reentering the glade with tea and crackling fire and a comforting, concealing dark. Rose from the River exhales through her nose, and runs the dull stone over her knuckles.

“That was a strange storm, Yue the Sun Farmer,” Rose says, her voice light, her thoughts veiled again. “On a strange stone in a strange light given to a strange monk, and I don’t know if you’ll manage anything like [i]that[/i] again. Or maybe you will. I am not an expert on sun farming, after all.” The stone arcs from her thumb, landing in Yue’s hand, and Rose— content with two hands, now— closes her eyes and rests her head on her interlaced palms, radiating deliberate calm. “And that is quite enough about me. It’s someone else’s turn now.”

She does not answer on how the experience felt— but, then, lightning is unlikely to strike twice, isn’t it? And she has been quite vulnerable enough for one evening, and now the harder she tries to hold anyone else at the campfire the more it will hurt if they will not stay. [i]aum shantae aum. aum shantae nemo padhome aum.[/i]

Then, sneakily, one hand creeps from behind her head, digs in the jar, and comes back with several simpler stones that she hides in one palm and holds onto. Even after that, she can’t pass on holding Yue’s sunlight a little while longer.

[Rose from the River clears Angry; she has only Frightened and Guilty left. Yue may take a String on her, but it’s a doozy.]