A Ring of Embers

A faint draft carried a scent of cooled ash across the hearth tiles. I advanced slowly, planting each step until the staff met the dark slate with a quiet ring. Near the base of the iron grate, a small circle of soot had settled around a fallen matchstick. I lowered my stance, steadying my footing before using the blunt ferrule of my staff to shift the charred wood. It rolled aside, revealing a pale, unblemished groove in the grout beneath. The room had settled into nighttime quiet. I remained crouched in vigilance, watching the lingering warmth fade from the stone.