---
The gemstone valley was dazzling—crimson rubies embedded in cliff walls, emeralds glowing faintly from beneath roots, and shimmering veins of quartz running like frozen rivers through the rock. It was here that Oliver, Sorrel, and Rosemary were led into a grand crystal throne room guarded by gelatinous sentinels.
At the center sat the Slime Queen, Lysandra—a radiant yellow slime who shimmered like liquid gold under torchlight. She had taken on a humanoid form, draped in a flowing gown that seemed to drip and reform with every movement. Her throne was carved of crystal, studded with luminous stones, and her calm gaze followed them as they approached.
"Ah," Lysandra's voice was soft and melodic, like rippling water. "The noble princess Rosemary returns… and with guests." Her form rippled as she leaned forward. "I hear you seek the Salamander flame. But first, you will entertain me… with cuisine."
Oliver blinked. "Cuisine?"
Lira, the exhausted girl from earlier, bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Majesty. The Queen wishes a dish worthy of her taste. She demands creativity with the ingredients of flame."
Sorrel adjusted his hat, his glasses glinting. "A cooking trial. I've read about this. Some slime royalty measure worth not through combat, but through creation."
Lysandra smiled faintly, her translucent cheeks glowing brighter. "Indeed. The flame can burn… or it can flavor. To control fire is to control both destruction and nourishment. Show me which side you favor."
She waved a slimy hand, and the guards deposited baskets before Oliver and Sorrel. Inside were strange and volatile ingredients:
Fire-peppers that smoked when cut.
Volcanic tubers glowing faintly from within.
Ash-mushrooms that tasted bitter unless perfectly balanced.
And a lump of Salamander's ember spice, so hot it could sear flesh with a touch.
Oliver looked at Sorrel, wide-eyed. "I've never cooked with things that could literally kill me."
Sorrel chuckled. "That's why I'm here. Otters cook well underwater. Less risk of… accidents."
Rosemary folded her arms. "Do your best. If you pass, Lysandra will allow you to enter the flame sanctum. If you fail…" she trailed off, glancing nervously at the gelatin guards.
Oliver swallowed. "…Right."
---
The trial began.
Oliver tried chopping the volcanic tubers, but the knife sparked against the crystalline skins. He cursed under his breath, pressing harder. Sorrel, meanwhile, summoned threads of water Vita to keep the fire-peppers from combusting as he sliced them into neat rings.
"Steady hands," Sorrel advised calmly. "Cooking is a craft like any other—patience, balance."
Oliver exhaled, trying to mimic Sorrel's precision. His tuber slices came out uneven at first, but gradually steadied. He sprinkled ash-mushroom dust over them, recalling a tip from Lira's recipe scroll.
When it came time to add the ember spice, Oliver hesitated. The lump pulsed like a heart, radiating heat. Even his Vita barrier trembled.
"Too much, and the dish will burn," Rosemary warned softly. "Too little, and it will lack life."
Oliver clenched his jaw, broke the lump in half, and tossed a shard into the bubbling broth Sorrel was stirring.
The cauldron hissed. Steam filled the throne room with a sharp, intoxicating aroma. The slime guards leaned closer, their bodies quivering in anticipation.
Lysandra's golden eyes gleamed. "Interesting…"
---
Finally, they plated the dish. A glowing stew of fire-tubers and peppers, balanced with water herbs that Sorrel had secretly contributed. The surface shimmered with both flame and cool mist—a balance of opposites.
Oliver placed it before the Queen, bowing slightly. "Your Majesty… we call this The Ember's Balance."
Lysandra dipped a delicate finger into the bowl, her slime form absorbing a taste. For a long moment, the room was silent.
Then—her form brightened, pulsing with golden radiance. "Delicious," she declared. "You have shown restraint, creativity… and harmony. You honor both fire and water."
The guards quivered in joy. Rosemary exhaled in relief. Sorrel smirked and adjusted his glasses. Oliver collapsed against the table, drenched in sweat but grinning.
Lysandra rose, her voice carrying through the crystal hall. "You have passed the trial. The flame will recognize you."
Behind her throne, a sealed crystalline door glowed red-hot, opening slightly as embers drifted into the air.
The path to the Salamander's elemental flame awaited.
---