The kitchen was my domain a place of unparalleled creativity, controlled chaos, and, occasionally, fiery temper tantrums. But today, it felt like an adversary, every pot, pan, and spice mocking me as I paced back and forth.
"What do I cook?" I muttered under my breath, glaring at the shelves laden with ingredients from every realm imaginable. My fingers tapped rhythmically against the countertop as I tried to summon inspiration.
Ciara and Aeliana deserved a feast, not just any feast—the perfect feast. Something that would make the gods themselves jealous. Something that would immortalize their wedding in culinary history.
Zephara's voice broke through my thoughts like a hammer smashing glass. "You're talking to yourself again, love."
I turned to find her lounging in the doorway, her white hair cascading like a storm cloud. She was holding an apple, idly munching as if she didn't have a care in the world.