PREVIEW

... as a cutting board. Sliced roots, questionable herbs, and something that might have once been cheese were all laid out like ingredients for a dark ritual. A single sausage lay skewered on a dagger, it was half melted and smoking ominously.

John picked up a wooden ladle, dipped it in the bubbling mess of Fizz’s stew, and sniffed. His face instantly contorted. "This smells like regret and burnt desperation."

"That’s the flavor profile!" Fizz puffed his chest proudly. "I’m experime ...

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