Hestia's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Hestia knelt on the warm marble steps of her golden gazebo, watching the eternal flame shrink inside its great bowl. She had tended this fire since the first home was built. Every mortal hearth drew its warmth from these embers. Tonight the flame was thin and blue, the lowest it had burned in a thousand years. Her bronze kettle sat beside her, still warm from the offerings she had poured all night. Dried herbs, scented oil, a careful spoon of nectar. Nothing fed the flame. She pressed her palm to the kettle and counted what she had tried. If she guessed wrong again, the fire would die. Then she saw it. Behind the gazebo, half-hidden by moss, sat a cracked stone vessel. Golden light leaked from its split side and ran into the ground. Hestia followed the glowing trail with her fingers. The light was the same gold as her flame. Something was pulling its life into the earth, drop by drop. She pressed both hands against the crack and the leak slowed. The flame above her steadied, then climbed a little higher. Hestia let out a long breath. She had found the wound. Now she had to learn who had made it.