I turned around to find a nine year old girl standing in front of my fireplace, her auburn hair moving in synchrony with the flames and her golden eyes shining like beacons of light, I could feel immeasurable power coming of from her alongside a powerful smell of burnt wood and marshmallows that was oddly a very relaxing mix, "Hestia?" I instinctively said, deep down being that what I said was nothing but the absolute truth, Hestia was standing in front of me, and yet I felt… fine, like even better than with my siblings, the feeling was like being home.
Percy Jackson: The God of Magic
Book&Literature · CORNBRINGER
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