The Unfinished Feast
All eyes were glued to Ilyrana as she continued to eat, the tension in the room growing thicker with each passing bite. She was the last contestant standing, the sole competitor left to either claim victory or admit defeat. The burly men who had been eliminated looked on in a mix of astonishment and disbelief—how could someone so small in stature compete with them for so long?
Each bite she took seemed more significant than the last. The tavern, once full of raucous cheers and chatter, had gone eerily quiet. The only sound was the steady clinking of her utensils as she ate with a kind of grace that contrasted starkly with the carnage of the competition. Her plate was now only half-full, but even that felt like an impossible amount for her to finish.