Chapter 10: Hell’s Kitchen – Prepping for Disaster

Ashenfall Palace Kitchen

The palace kitchen of Ashenfall was far too peaceful for the war that was about to break out.

Cael stood at the center of it all, apron crisp, hair tied back, and three handpicked imps lined up before him.

These were the only ones who had shown any promise at following instructions without setting themselves or others on fire. At least not too often.

He flipped open Fred’s old cookbook with reverence, eyes scanning the faded ink. Dishes of the Damned: A Practical Guide to Not Dying in a Demon Kitchen.

The title alone gave him both hope and deep existential dread.

“Alright, team,” Cael said, clapping once. “We’re going to take these hell-spawned ingredients and turn them into something edible. Possibly delicious. Preferably non-lethal.”

The imps saluted, one accidentally setting his sleeve ablaze. The others patted him out with impressive coordination. Progress.

Cael began by preparing the first dish: a spicy volcanic omelet using fire-basil, shadow yolks, and ghost pepper butter.

He followed Fred’s instructions down to the letter. The result? Perfect. Fluffy. Slightly glowing, but not in an ominous way.

Then he handed the recipe to the imps.

Fifteen minutes later, one exploded. Another passed out frothing purple at the mouth. The third caught fire while sneezing and had to be dunked in the pickled eel barrel.

Cael leaned on the counter, watching the carnage unfold with dead eyes.

“Fred… how did you survive this? Did you have asbestos hands? Did you bathe in pain tolerance? Were you secretly immortal?”

Despite the chaos, he adjusted. Tweaked ingredient proportions. Rationed mana spices with surgical precision.

Slowly, agonizingly, the kitchen began producing passable food that didn’t try to bite back.

Meanwhile, in the Flaming Wreckage Formerly Known as the Ebonflame Castle Kitchen

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“Add the entrails now!” shouted Prince Veydran, flinging a ladle full of bright green goo into a pot.

It exploded.

Goblins scattered. The ceiling was now on fire. Again.

Veydran stood shirtless in a kitchen apron two sizes too small, posing triumphantly as if this was all part of the plan.

“Victory demands flavor!” he declared.

That was when King Mortavax the Ever-Hungry arrived, flanked by guards and a wave of heat and fury. His voice could shatter glass…or at least cookware.

“VEYDRAN! That was my midnight roast bat! WHERE is my midnight roast bat?!”

Veydran turned slowly. “Father. I am forging a path to culinary conquest. For love. For glory.”

Mortavax’s eye twitched. “For disaster, you mean! You’ve reduced the royal kitchen to ash three times today!”

The prince puffed out his chest. “I have heart!”

“You have no seasoning sense! And my cheese cellar is missing!”

Enter Chef Gribble, the royal goblin chef and renowned sufferer of kitchen-related trauma. Veydran dropped to one knee before him.

“Oh mighty Gribble, join me in battle. I shall pay you in…” he whipped out a glittery scroll, “...a signed photograph of my abs, oiled and flexed, as requested!”

Chef Gribble gagged. “I’d rather eat moldy bugpaste for eternity.”

King Mortavax pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gribble. I’ll give you five tons of gold and three tons of jewels if you just take him. Take him and make him stop.”

The goblin sighed, defeated. “Fine. But if he touches a spoon, I’m out.”

Back at Ashenfall – Culinary Breakthroughs and... Unexpected Energy

Five hours later, Cael and his imps stood before a full-course spread, starter, entrée, dessert, all demon dishes cooked using Fred’s hybrid techniques. They were aromatic, layered in flavor, and most importantly: non-lethal.

Cael wiped sweat from his brow and smiled. “This might actually work.”

Just then, the throne room doors burst open.

Ashara had returned.

She strode into the kitchen, cloak billowing, eyes gleaming with pride…and a small velvet pouch clutched in her hand.

“I bring gifts!” she said cheerfully, waving the pouch. “Heart Springs alchemists have brewed another version. This one’s supposed to increase male endurance and reduce screaming.”

Cael blanched. “I’m not sure that’s scientifically possible.”

But before she could drag him off, her nose twitched. She sniffed the air.

“What is that divine smell?”

She approached the table like a lioness stalking a roast. Without waiting, she picked up a seared hellfin steak, took a bite, and her expression melted into sheer bliss.

“This... is amazing.” She devoured everything. Cleaned the plates. Looked at Cael, beaming.

He smiled, hopeful. “So... you’re full now. Sleepy, maybe? Nap?”

Ashara’s eyes gleamed. “Full? Yes. But now I have energy.”

“Oh no.”

Nightfall – Death by Cuddles (and Everything Else)

The second trial began.

This time, the potion worked. Somewhat.

Cael lasted a whole eight hours before collapsing, twitching and whispering his childhood prayer to the kitchen gods.

Ashara hummed beside him, utterly satisfied. “We’re getting close, my love. That potion might be it.”

Cael lay there, lips dry, soul hovering.

“I’m not dead. Just... mostly evaporated. Maybe I can survive this. One day. With divine intervention. Or a second soul.”

He coughed weakly. “Can I cook from the afterlife?”