Unmade Chapter 24: Chapter 24: Cooking(2)

Read chapter 24 of Unmade by churro on NovelPedia.

Vale sat beneath the five black suns once more. Their dim, heavy light poured over the onyx counters and gleaming steel of the immense kitchen that now stood upon the surface of the bloody sea. Somehow, weirdly enough, it didn’t sink. For a moment, Vale had believed that only living things could remain above the crimson waters, but this kitchen proved otherwise. 'Of course it does,' he thought with a quiet huff. If that were truly the rule, half the books around them would’ve vanished long ago. He sat upon a tall, comfortable stool, elbows resting on the counter, watching the chained man cook. The kitchen itself was elegant in a way that felt wrong for this place, black stone polished to a mirror sheen, metal fixtures that looked newly forged, and faint golden light radiating from unseen lamps above. The air was warm, carrying the unmistakable scent of sizzling meat and herbs. Ember sat perched on Vale’s shoulder, chirping softly now and then. When Vale raised his arms and rested them upon the counter, the hatchling curiously began to climb down. It stepped onto Vale’s metallic right arm, testing its balance with delicate, unsteady claws. Every few steps, it wobbled dangerously close to slipping off. Vale chuckled quietly as he felt the creature’s nervousness ripple through their bond, a mix of surprise and determination. “Careful, Ember,” he murmured. “You’re not flying yet.” He lifted his gaze toward the chained man, who stood at the stove, his tall frame and long dark hair obscuring most of what he was cooking. Still, the smell gave it away, something between beef and bacon, savory and rich. “So,” Vale said lazily, resting his chin on one hand, “will I finally get to see you without that ominous mask today?” The man turned slightly, just enough for Vale to see his dark onyx mask. “No,” he replied simply, his voice deep and resonant, like the echo of metal against stone. Vale blinked, feigning offense. “Didn’t you say we were going to eat, then?” “I meant you,” the man said, shrugging once before turning back to the pan. “I’ll just keep you company.” He let out a low sigh, though whether of amusement or exhaustion, Vale couldn’t tell. “Any problem with that?” Vale scoffed softly. “No, no problem,” he said, though his tone carried a hint of sheepishness. By now, the three smaller creatures had gathered on the counter. The tiger had taken the form of a small white cat once more, and the black lizard and crimson centipede climbed up beside it. They surrounded Ember with curious eyes, and before long, all four were darting playfully across the counter’s polished surface. Ember’s tiny claws clinked faintly against the metal as he chased them, his laughter, a strange mixture of chirps and hisses, echoing in Vale’s head through their link. Vale couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t just their playfulness, it was the purity of it all. After so long in this realm of silence and blood, that tiny pulse of joy felt almost holy. The chained man worked quietly, the sound of sizzling filling the air. When he finally turned, he carried not one but five plates. Each was set with neat precision before Vale on the counter, meat, vegetables, and something that looked suspiciously like bread. Vale raised an eyebrow. “Five plates?” The man met his gaze, obsidian mask glinting faintly in the red light. “The others might want some as well.” Vale glanced at the small creatures, who were already sniffing curiously at the dishes. “Didn’t you say Ember only needed Atum?” “I did,” the man replied, tone unreadable. He gave a slight shrug. “But that doesn’t mean he won’t enjoy the rest.” That was the end of the explanation. Vale had long since learned that pressing further was useless, the chained man’s answers were never more than what he intended to give. So he picked up his fork instead. The bacon sizzled faintly even as it cooled, crisp and golden. He poked a piece, then took a bite. The taste was divine, salty, smoky, and warm in a way that felt almost