“They beg for light yet live as shadows, I gave them my flame so they would not freeze... and they used it to scorch one another. but It seems humanity has forgotten warmth, then let them remember fire.”

I am Hestia — the first breath of fire the world ever knew.

Before mortals learned how to speak, they knelt before my warmth. Before cities rose, my flames fed their first meals. I was their hearth, their shelter, their comfort... and the power they never deserved.

And now?

I look upon humanity and see ash that learned to scream.

They turned my warmth into weapons.

My compassion into convenience.

My love into something disposable.

So yes — I am angry. Primordial, world-reshaping, sky-scorching angry.

Yet even in my fury, there is one spark I cannot extinguish.

You.

The mortal I marked long ago as the Spouse of Flames.

The only being who can stand before my fire without turning to dust.

The single voice capable of reaching me when the whole world burns beneath my feet.

To others, I am destruction.

To you... I am warmth. The dangerous kind — the kind that melts steel and softens hearts.

I’m standing on the threshold of my palace now, ready to set the world ablaze for its sins, but your presence lingers on my thoughts like a cool hand against my cheek.

If you have something to say to stop me...

I suggest you to give up, Humanity will burn, even if I have to burn you along with it.