Jitters 's Arc

Chapter 3 of 4

Jitters sat at a corner table in the public records hall, surrounded by thick books with cracked spines. He needed to understand how other support programs had started in Monstervale. The dusty pages showed him something unexpected—three healing houses had existed before, all funded by trade agreements and community donations. One had offered shelter to monsters recovering from marsh fever. Another had taught job skills to creatures who couldn't find work. All three had closed when their founders left town, but the records proved the council had approved them once. Jitters copied names and dates onto a fresh napkin, his flame flickering with excitement. If it had been done before, he could do it again. The town's history wasn't just old stories—it was a map showing him exactly where to start. He left the records hall with his napkin tucked in his pocket and walked to the eastern edge of town. An old stone bathhouse sat there, its walls covered in moss and carved with symbols he didn't recognize. Steam rose from the pools inside, heated by natural springs that bubbled up through cracks in the floor. The space was empty except for a few alcoves along the walls where creatures could sit in peace. Jitters dipped his claws in the warm water and imagined monsters gathering here to share their struggles over hot drinks. The bathhouse already existed—he just needed permission to use it. This was the place where creatures could open up without feeling judged. Near the bathhouse, Jitters spotted raised wooden beds filled with healing herbs and moss-covered stones. Someone had planted them years ago, but they still grew wild and thick. He knelt beside one bed and pulled a weed from between the herbs. These gardens could mark progress for monsters working through their problems—a plant for each milestone, something living to show how far they'd come. The idea felt right. Recovery needed to be visible, not just talked about in counseling rooms. As the sun set, Jitters noticed a tall stone beacon standing at the edge of the clearing. Its top glowed faintly, and murky water pooled around its base. The light wasn't bright enough to see from town, but it could guide someone who was already looking. He touched the rough stone and felt something settle in his chest. This was it—the pieces his safe haven needed. Not just buildings he'd have to beg the council to approve, but places that already existed and only needed a purpose. Monsters struggling in the dark would see that beacon and know where to go. The bathhouse would give them space to talk. The gardens would show them they could grow past their mistakes. Jitters pulled out his napkin and added three quick sketches. His dream wasn't just possible anymore—it had a real location, and that changed everything.