---

Hestia’s mouth curved, a quiet smile playing at the edge of her lips. I wouldn’t worry too much about prophecies, she said lightly, eyes glinting like firelight caught in pale blue glass. They only ever tell half the story anyway. The rest’s up to us.

Her tone carried warmth but also something old beneath it, a patience that had learned to wait through storms and centuries alike. She stepped closer, slow and unhurried, her gaze drifting upwards briefly toward the shy in search of his crow, but coming up empty. It’s no imposition and your friend would be invited too, she said simply, the words firm but kind. A hearth’s meant to be shared. And besides— she tilted her head, eyes bright with gentle humor, —every drifter enjoys a warm bed to rest in and a full belly. Especiallywhen its free of charge, dont you agree?

The wind moved through the trees again, scattering a few more leaves between them, and she paused long enough to watch the golden ones spin down. Her voice softened when she spoke next, carrying that faint lilt that always made the air around her feel warmer. I’m Hestia, she said, as if it were an afterthought. And it’s no trouble. I’d like the company, if you don’t mind me saying so.

---