A Midnight Hearth

I tucked the lace curtain securely behind the terracotta pot to block the chilly draft before settling down for the night. Right on the sill, a small glass votive cup held an unlit tealight candle left behind. I propped my open grimoire against its frosted rim, letting the soft glow from the room's nightlight catch the waxy surface like a miniature altar. Placed beside it, my blue feather and striped snail shell looked like genuine arcane relics. It felt like sitting beside a cozy campfire after a long journey—quiet, charming, and thoroughly earned.