Futhorc
Cen is the torch of the Old English poem, and its first line says the torch is known to every living thing by its fire. The thing itself was a pine splint, a sliver of resinous wood that looks like nothing until it is lit. This week asks you to light yours. Some ability you have been describing or keeping in reserve is likely to be needed in practice, and it only becomes visible once you are using it. A splint burns hot and fast and gives enough light for one room, and then it is spent. Pace the effort across the seven days rather than using it all in the first two, and keep a second splint by the holder. Good work at this rate still has an end.