Bright Flame (Fire) × The Starweaver
The moment a dream sprouts it's already ablaze, and they want it real by tonight.
The Starweaver dreams at the horizon, three years out, where the thing does not exist yet. Fire skips the waiting. The moment a dream sprouts in you it is already alight, and you want it real by tonight. So you are the Starweaver who arrives at a vision already running, the idea barely formed and the heat under it full. The dream still floats far off, and you are sprinting at it before the sketch is dry.
That fire is your rarest reach. You can take one airy notion and set a whole room ablaze with belief in it, voices rising, people leaning in, the future suddenly worth chasing tonight. Vega is the weaver star, threading light no one has measured, and yours throws sparks while it threads. Most dreamers describe the far thing flatly. You make people feel the warmth of it before it exists, and that is what pulls them off their chairs.
Here is where the heat turns on you. The fire that lit the dream burns down in three days, and a new dream takes its place, then another, and none of them lands. The New Moon hangs invisible at the start of the cycle, all potential, nothing showing yet. You read a dark sky full of possible fires and light a fresh one every night. Some seasons the dream worth keeping is the one you stay with past the third day, after the first blaze fades.
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A mirror, not a prophecy. It reflects you as you are right now. How you walk is still yours to choose.