The darkness of the Onyx Palace courtyard rushed up to swallow Ren the second her eyes rolled back in her head. She expected the cold, hard impact of the cobblestone. She expected Syris's panicked shouting to echo in her ears until she completely faded into the void.
Instead, she smelled clarified butter.
Ren's eyes snapped open. The freezing swamp air was gone, replaced by the heavenly, intoxicating aromas of roasted garlic, searing thyme, and caramelizing Wagyu beef.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
The distinct mechanical whine of a kitchen ticket printer echoed in her ears.
Ren gasped, stumbling backward. She wasn't in the Stone Age. She was standing in the center of a pristine, brilliantly lit, stainless-steel commercial kitchen. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The massive exhaust hoods hummed like airplane engines.
"Behind you! Hot pan!" a voice barked.
Ren spun around, panicked, as a stressed-out line cook holding a smoking skillet barreled directly toward her.
