23NewHope

Of Old Years, New Hopes, and the Gods Who Might Be Listening

The fire's been kept high tonight. Not for warmth alone, though the wind outside would skin a man raw, but for tradition. Old Year's End, they call it. A night when folk drink to what was, and whisper what might be, careful not to say too much lest the world overhear and take offence.

I've heard the talk already. Of roads reopening come spring. Of old powers stirring, or maybe new ones; gentler ones, some hope. A god who watches without weighing every sin like coin. Mercy is fashionable this winter, it seems. Or at least desired. You can hear it in how people pause before they curse their luck.

As for me? I'll take new stories. Fresh faces at the bar. A few more hands behind it, truth be told, good help is harder to find than heroes these days. But the world's still turning, and as long as folk keep coming in out of the cold with tales to tell, we'll keep the lantern lit.

Raise a cup tonight, friends. To endings that don't break us, and beginnings that might yet surprise us.

— Garrick, George & Dragon