It was the next day.
The city still slept under the embrace of night, its streets cloaked in silence, its people lost in dreams. I opened my eyes to the dark ceiling above me. The room was dim, faint moonlight seeping through the curtains. The air was still, too still. A glance at the clock told me it was 2:00 AM — far too early, even for someone like me. Yet sleep refused to return, as if something within me stirred too loudly to ignore.
I shifted on the couch, my temporary bed. My back ached slightly from the awkward position, but it wasn't enough to bother me. I turned my head to look toward the bed.
There she was — Hestia.
Her form lay peacefully beneath the covers, chest rising and falling with a calm rhythm, her long dark hair fanned out like a halo around her. A soft, vulnerable look rested on her face, far removed from the usual goddess-like confidence she wore in the daylight.
I sat up, rubbing the fatigue from my eyes, though I wasn't tired — not really. I had managed four hours of sleep, yet something gnawed at me, a feeling I couldn't name. Was it excitement? Anticipation? Or was something simply wrong with me?
Without much thought, I threw on my shirt, opened the door gently, and stepped out into the cold night air. The cool breeze touched my skin, sending a faint shiver down my spine. The streets were silent, empty of carriages, adventurers, and drunks alike. The city was asleep.
I began walking slowly, letting my thoughts drift as my feet moved on their own. There was something strangely comforting about the stillness — the kind of silence that invited reflection. I could hear my own footsteps echoing faintly, the occasional chirp of insects the only other sound.
Then… my eyes shifted.
I didn't mean to look. But something pulled me — a strange compulsion. My gaze turned to a dark alley tucked between two old stone buildings. Without fully knowing why, I stepped inside.
The shadows stretched long here. The moonlight barely reached in.
That's when I saw them.
Figures curled up on the cold ground, barely more than shadows themselves. Homeless. Forgotten. Some wrapped in torn blankets, others in nothing at all. The stench of old alcohol, urine, and despair clung to the air like a sickness. Their faces were gaunt, eyes sunken, some too weak even to shiver.
I passed them quietly, my heart growing heavier with each step. And then… I stopped.
There he was.
A child — no older than ten — sitting against the damp stone wall, knees pulled to his chest. His long black hair was tangled and dirty, falling down to his waist. His eyes were closed, face pale from hunger and exhaustion. But it was his body that made my breath catch — bruises all over his arms, a leg swollen and discolored from infection.
I knelt in front of him slowly, carefully, afraid I'd wake him. His breathing was shallow. He hadn't eaten in days. I hesitated, my hand hovering just above his head.
"I can't leave him like this," I whispered to myself.
And then, without uttering a single chant, I activated it — my skill.
A soft, radiant light enveloped my body. A white halo formed above my head, casting a divine glow in the dark alley. The moment it appeared, the child's wounds began to mend. Bruises faded, his skin regained color, the infection vanished like it had never been. His breathing steadied, his body whole again.
But something… changed.
The white halo above me slowly darkened, tainted.
It turned black.
And then — it vanished.
The magic faded as if it had never existed. The alley returned to darkness.
Only I knew what had just happened.
Suddenly, a jolt of pain shot through my chest.
I gasped, staggering to my feet. My body trembled. I pressed my hand against my heart as a searing agony spread from my core.
It was as if unseen claws gripped my heart and squeezed. Not just that — it felt like blades were carving into it while it pulsed. My knees buckled. I leaned against the alley wall, teeth clenched to stop myself from screaming.
'Don't scream. Just walk. Move. Get out.'
Every step was like walking through fire. I dragged myself toward the exit, the night air suddenly feeling too heavy to breathe.
(Third Person POV)
Back at the room, Hestia lay still in peaceful slumber. The soft quiet of the early morning was suddenly shattered by a thud — the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the wooden floor.
Her eyes snapped open.
She sat up instantly. "Cael?"
No response.
She rushed from the bed, her heartbeat thundering in her ears — and there, at the base of the staircase, she saw him.
"Cael!" she screamed, eyes wide in horror.
Her first child lay on the floor, writhing in agony, clutching his chest. His body trembled violently, gasps escaping his lips. He didn't cry out, but the torment in his expression was unbearable to witness.
She rushed to his side and dropped to her knees, hands cradling his face. "Cael?! What happened?!"
Tears gathered in her eyes. "Please, speak to me!"
Cael's lips moved, trembling. "I-it's… my skill, Goddess Hestia… I-i used it…"
His voice was so weak, so broken. Every syllable seemed to cost him unimaginable pain.
She pulled him tightly into her arms, his head resting against her chest.
There were no wounds. No blood. No bruises. But the pain — it was real. It was eating him alive from the inside.
Poison? Curse? She didn't know. But he looked like he was dying.
"Please don't die." she whispered, tears now falling freely.
And then — as suddenly as it began — the pain vanished.
Cael's body went limp in her arms, his breathing slowly returning to normal.
She held him for a long time after that, even as he fell into a faint sleep.