❝ If my life is going to mean anything, I have to live it myself. ❞
𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡- she stands on the precipice, bold and upright. in her eyes, a sparkle of wanderlust, A hunger for the unfamiliar, a thirst. She dreams of landscapes wild and free...
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chapter three:
AT THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF, Mrs. O'Leary had found an unexpected companion. A cozy campfire crackled in a ring of stones, casting a warm glow against the darkness of the night. Seated cross-legged next to the imposing hellhound was a girl of about eight years old, her mousy brown hair framing her face beneath a simple brown dress. Wrapped around her head was a scarf, giving her the appearance of a pioneer child, like a ghost from the pages of Little House on the Prairie. With a stick, she poked at the fire, coaxing vibrant red flames to dance and flicker.
"Hello," she greeted, her voice as soft as the crackling fire.
To Kai's surprise, Nico bowed respectfully to the little girl. "Hello again, Lady."
With eyes as red as the firelight, the girl studied Percy and Kai, their presence seemingly unanticipated yet welcomed. Percy approached cautiously, while Kai bowed instinctively, recognizing the significance of the moment.
"Sit, Percy Jackson, Kailani Hawea," she invited graciously. "Would you like some dinner?"
Despite the earlier dismal offerings of moldy peanut butter sandwiches and burnt cookies, Kai's stomach stirred at the sight of the feast that appeared at the edge of the fire. Plates of succulent roast beef, baked potatoes, buttered carrots, and fresh bread adorned the makeshift table, alongside an array of other delectable dishes that Kai had longed for but rarely tasted. Even Mrs. O'Leary received a generous portion—a five-foot-long dog biscuit that elicited joyous excitement from the loyal hellhound.
Taking her place between Nico and Percy, Kai couldn't help but marvel at the abundance of food before her. With gratitude and reverence, she picked up her fork, her muscles remembering the rituals of camp. "For the gods," she murmured softly, offering a portion of her meal to the flames.
The little girl smiled knowingly. "Thank you. As tender of the flame, I receive a share of every sacrifice, you know."
Percy's realization dawned with a pang of realization. "You're Hestia," he breathed, his heart heavy with reverence. "The goddess of the hearth."
"I am, Percy," she affirmed, her presence radiating warmth and comfort in the midst of the night.
The flames danced in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room as Percy and Nico sat in the warmth of Hestia's presence. Kai watched, mesmerized by the gentle glow of the goddess's red eyes, which seemed to hold within them the wisdom of centuries.
"My lady," Nico asked, his voice a soft whisper in the crackling silence, "why aren't you with the other Olympians fighting Typhon?"
Hestia's eyes flickered, their fiery depths reflecting the flames of the hearth. Kai realized they weren't just reflecting the flames—they were filled with flames, though these flames were warm and cozy compared to Ares's fiery glare.
