The sun had barely begun to crest over the rim of the world when I finished my morning drills. Habit is a hard thing to kill. Even in this body a body that looked like it belonged on a porcelain shelf the soldier in me demanded discipline. I had spent an hour in the courtyard of the tavern practicing footwork. My center of gravity was different now, lower and more compact, but the mechanics of balance remained the same.
"You move like a cat, Lady Hestia," Elara remarked, leaning against the doorframe with a tray of breakfast. "Or a hunter."
"I move like someone who doesn't want to be caught off guard," I replied, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead.
I took the tray from her, nodding my thanks. As I ate, my mind was already three steps ahead. The tavern was stable. The "Neutral Zone" reputation was spreading through the back alleys of Orario. But a tavern wasn't a Familia. To be Number One, I needed members. And not just any members—I needed a core.
"I'm going out today, Elara," I said, setting down my cup. "I need to see the 'Market' for myself."
"The Guild?" she asked.
"No. The Guild is where you find the established. I'm looking for the ones the world hasn't noticed yet."
I stepped out into the morning air of Orario. The city was waking up. I wore a simple hooded cloak over my white dress to keep the blue ribbons from drawing too much attention. I wasn't hiding my divinity, but I didn't want a parade.
I walked toward the Northwest District, the area where the "unwanted" tended to gather. In my past life, this was where the refugees and the disillusioned ended up. In Orario, it was the graveyard of dreams.
Using my "Hearth Vision," the world became a tapestry of colors. I saw the thick, iron-like bonds of the Ganesha Familia patrols strong, disciplined, but rigid. I saw the shimmering, beautiful, yet terrifyingly fragile silver threads of the Freya Familia followers lines of obsession rather than love.
Then, I saw him.
He was sitting on a crate near a fountain, looking at a map of the Dungeon with a look of pure, unadulterated hope that made my soldier's heart ache. He was a teenager with hair as white as a fresh snowfall and eyes the color of rubies.
Bell Cranel.
He was the "White Rabbit" from my fuzzy memories of the fiction I once knew. But seeing him in the flesh was different. My vision flickered, and I looked at his "Link."
He didn't have one. No Familia bond. No anchor. He was a stray wire, sparking with a massive amount of potential energy but with nowhere to ground it. He was lonely not the bitter loneliness of the soldiers I used to lead, but a pure, seeking loneliness. He wanted to belong.
I didn't approach him immediately. I watched.
I watched as he approached three different Familias. I watched as the captains looked at his thin frame and laughed. I watched as a recruiter for a mid-tier Familia pushed him aside, calling him a "runt" who would be monster food in five minutes.
Each rejection frayed his spirit. I could see his "aura" dimming, the white light of his soul flickering like a candle in a drafty room.
This is it, I thought. The first stone in the fortress.
I waited until he was sitting on the steps of a closed shop, his head in his hands. I walked up slowly, making sure my footsteps were audible so I didn't startle him. I stopped a few feet away and let my hood fall back.
"The Dungeon doesn't care about the size of the sword, boy," I said, my voice carrying that resonant, divine weight. "It cares about the fire in the belly of the one holding it."
Bell looked up, his red eyes wide. He scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over his own boots. "A-ah! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to block the way, My Lady!"
"You're not blocking anything," I said, stepping closer. I didn't look at him as a goddess looking down at a mortal. I looked at him as a Commander looking at a recruit who had the 'look' of a survivor. "I've been watching you. You've been rejected by half the street today."
He looked down, his face flushing. "Yes... they say I'm too weak. That I don't have what it takes to be an adventurer."
"They're looking at your muscles," I said, reaching out and placing a hand over his heart. He froze, his breath hitching. "I'm looking at your foundation. Tell me, boy. Why do you want to enter that abyss?"
"I... I want to be a hero," he whispered, as if he expected me to laugh. "I want to be someone who can protect others. Someone who belongs."
I felt it then a surge of heat from his chest that answered the flame in mine. His "Link" reached out, searching for a home.
"My name is Hestia," I said, and for the first time, I felt the full power of that name. "I am a Goddess without a Familia. I have no golden palaces, and I have no legions of heroes. But I have a hearth that never goes cold, and I have a vision for a family that will stand when the rest of this city falls."
I held out my hand. "I am looking for my first flame. Someone who isn't afraid to grow. Someone who will be the heart of my home. Will you be the one to start my fire, Bell Cranel?"
The boy stared at my hand as if it were a holy relic. The silence stretched for a heartbeat, then two. Then, with a shaking hand, he reached out and took mine.
The moment our skin touched, a golden cord thicker and brighter than any I had seen in the tavern snapped into existence between us. It wasn't a bond of servitude. It was a bond of mutual survival.
"Yes," he choked out, tears pricking his eyes. "Please... let me join you."
I smiled, a genuine, sharp smile. "Then come. We have work to do. And the first thing a soldier needs is a proper meal."