Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Thaddeus
The Hearth there’s a quiet strength in the way she holds herself, even as uncertainty flickers across her face. She feels like an answer to a question I didn’t dare voice, a wish I’d nearly given up on this past year. The warmth of the tavern seems to brighten in her presence, and for the first time in a long while, I feel a spark of something I thought I’d lost: hope.
And a still quieter voice that I never dared listen to before. Mate.
I step forward before she can decide to leave. "Welcome to the Hearth it’s genuine. Humans intrigue me, especially those brave enough to visit Avalon Vale—a town that still holds a bit of mystery for most of them.
She glances up, her fingers tightening around the mug. "The festival," she says softly, her voice carrying a hint of something—nervousness, maybe, or hope. That barely-there smile of hers flickers to life again, and it strikes me like sunlight breaking through clouds.
The firelight reflects in her eyes, and something stirs in my chest—something I haven’t felt in years. It’s as if a weight I didn’t realize I was carrying begins to lift, my own grief loosening its grip. There’s a quiet strength about her, wrapped in exhaustion, and it tugs at me. "The festival’s a good place to start," I say, keeping my tone light. "Though, fair warning, you might leave with more stories than you bargained for."
Her lips curve just a little more, and I catch myself leaning closer, wanting to see that spark of life again. "Stories are why I’m here," she says after a pause, her voice steadier this time.