She is stoking the fire when you come. As your feet hit the ground with a muffled thump, you see her give a bittersweet smile to her dwindling flames, as if she had been awaiting this moment her whole existence. Giving one last life-sustaining poke at the fire, she turns her full attention to where you stand before her.
"I had heard you were making the rounds," she says, the same peculiar smile still in place. "I was wondering when you would end up at my hearth." She motions you over to stand opposite her, and carefully you make your way over. You are both now standing over the hearth, and from here you can see just how meager it really is. The coal around the edges seems as though heat has not engulfed them for decades, and the fire in the center looks like it could be extinguished at any moment by the slightest change in the breeze.
"For years I have tended to these flames—you should have seen them in their heyday. They must have reached almost as high as you are. I kept them going through our toughest trials and through our most radiant moments. I never asked for anything in return; I even gave up my seat in Olympus for them and what they represented: family and home and community and togetherness. I have slaved over these flames, I have loved what they have sustained and I have hated what has endured, and now I believe it is time for them to go.
"We think that we can continue, but that was never what we were meant for. All of this time was always destined to end, and whether it has meant something is not for us to know, not truly. We simply must accept that it is over, and all that came with it as well."
Reaching up for you, Hestia places her hands on your cheeks. You can feel their warmth, and you wonder if the true fire was not the ashes of the one you are standing over, but the goddess before you. Pulling your face down to hers, she places a soft kiss on your forehead, and you can feel the floral wreath on your head shift. Leaning back, you look at her, and you are suddenly aware of how well you can see yourself through her eyes. "You, Thanatos, I think you may have it the worst. No one considers who will bury the gravedigger. You believe you have the experience to share, but never have you truly experienced it for yourself. You are there for everyone in the end, but who will be left for you?
The fire has died now, and only the embers beneath them still glow. She sighs, and it is calm and terrifying. "I am ready, Death, but do not forget that once there is nothing left to take, you, too, must end.
"Nothing is immortal."
