Atvian

"A house is just a thing of bricks and wood, of nails and mortar. But a home? A home is made of the laughter caught in its walls, the warmth shared over its tables, the quiet moments when the world feels far away. Homes are fragile, yet they endure. They are built not by hands, but by hearts. Tend your fire, bar your door, and remember: a house shelters you from storms, but a home shelters you from loneliness."

— Atvian, spoken by the firelight of a quiet evening

 

The Gate

  Belonging in the cottage with smoke curling from its chimney, the cluttered kitchen where bread is baking, and the threadbare seats where a family gathers close, the Hearthbound is not a god of grand palaces or towering castles. He is a god of warmth and welcome, of the spaces we create to shelter both body and soul.   Said to appear as an unassuming figure, dressed in the soft, worn fabrics of everyday life. His hair is streaked with the grey of hearth ash, his hands calloused as if from tending fires and mending roofs. His eyes, however, are the heart of him - deep and steady, carrying the glow of a hearth's embers. They are kind eyes, but also sharp, knowing all too well the fractures that can creep into walls and hearts alike.  

The Mantle

  He moves without sound, but his presence is unmistakable. He is the creak of floorboards beneath familiar steps, the scent of stew bubbling on the stove, the flicker of firelight that dances on walls. He is the quiet sigh of relief as a door closes against the storm and the laughter that spills from a gathering well-fed and safe.   The Hearthbound's blessings are subtle but profound. A roof that doesn't leak despite the years, a lock that holds firm against the night, a warmth that lingers long after the fire has burned out. Yet he does not grant these things freely. A Home, he whispers, is not the walls and wood but care and effort, shared burdens, and tended flames.   He is a god to whom few pray, for his work often goes unnoticed. Yet, when a house becomes a home, when hearts find solace within its walls, he is there, smiling in the shadows, his work quietly done.