A hearth.
Level three. He could tell by the size of it, the quality of the grates, the faint blue glow that pulsed from the embers even now, cold. His hands itched.
Midnight hopped from his shoulder to the prep table and watched him with those dark eyes as he opened his inventory.
The recipes he'd been carrying for weeks, the ones greyed out, locked behind Hearth Level 3 Required, glowed warm in his vision.
Seared Smoked Ogre Marrow Toast, Lava Golem Heart steak, Shadowroot Stew. Dozens of them, stacked in his cooking menu like gifts he hadn't been allowed to open.
He pulled a cast-iron pan from the shelf. Set it on the grate. The metal settled with a sound like a bell being rung quietly, and something in his chest loosened for the first time since they'd left the last safe zone.
