C65 The Pattern Revealed
By dawn, the scraps were no longer scraps.
They had become form—stitched together beneath hands steady with purpose. What began as silent mending had grown into a pattern none had planned, yet all recognized once it took shape.
A great crest, wider than any banner they had carried.
It bore no family sigil.
It was not marked by house, name, or land.
But by a flame cupped within an open palm
