The crypt trembled as Aunt Seraphina's bootheels clicked against the stone floor.
Her emerald-cut coat flared behind her, designed with stolen jewels that shined in the torchlight. The hooded figure stumbled back, their cauldron now nothing more than a pile of cracked pottery and hissing broth.
"You," the figure gasped, voice trembling.
Seraphina grinned, twirling her cutlass.
"Miss me?"
She kicked the remains of the cauldron aside, sending black broth splattering across the walls. The liquid recoiled like a living thing, slithering into the cracks between stones.
"You always did over-season your schemes," she mused, stepping closer. "A pinch of subtlety would've served you better."
Upstairs, Duke Cassian groaned as his consciousness returned.
His vision cleared to reveal Evangeline's tear-streaked face flowing inches from his own.
"Eva…?" His voice was rough as if he'd swallowed glass.
She smacked his cheek with a tiny hand.
"Gah!" Translation: "That's for scaring me, you broth-brained idiot!"
The duchess helped him sit up, her grip gentler than her words.
"If you ever let a possessed soup control you again, I'm divorcing you."
Lucien, still half-crushed under the curtain, wheezed.
"Still dying here, people."
Ebony watched from the shadows as Whiskerton gloated, licking a single paw with exaggerated dignity.
"You helped them," she accused, emerald eyes narrowed.
Whiskerton paused mid-lick.
"I helped myself. The baby's my ticket to a lifetime of tuna. You? You're just jealous."
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Ebony's face.
"The Black Broth promised me power. A throne of my own."
"And yet," Whiskerton yawned, "here you are. Throneless. Again."
Ebony's tail lashed, but then she stilled, ears twitching toward the crypt's entrance.
"…She's here."
Back in the crypt, Seraphina pinned the hooded figure against the wall, her cutlass at their throat.
"Let's see who's been stirring my family's troubles," she purred, yanking back the hood.
The face beneath was horrifyingly familiar.
"Chef Marcel's sous-chef?!" Seraphina blinked. "Gerard? You treasonous crepe!"
Gerard spat a mouthful of black broth at her.
"The Evernights deserve to choke on their arrogance!"
Seraphina dodged, but the liquid struck a torch, extinguishing it in a plume of smoke.
In the darkness, Gerard wriggled free and fled, his laughter echoing through the tunnels.
"This isn't over!"
Evangeline's pacifier pulsed blood red, projecting a new vision.
Gerard kneeled before a colossal cauldron in a hidden chamber, pouring vial after vial of Black Broth into its depths. The liquid churned, forming a monstrous shape a Broth Titan, its body a swirling mass of noodles and rage.
She screamed, the sound rattling the nursery windows.
Whiskerton's fur stood on end.
"Oh, fishsticks."
The castle shook as the ground split open in the courtyard. A colossal hand made entirely of writhing, broth-soaked noodles clawed its way free.
The Broth Titan appeared over the Evernight Manor, its voice a deafening slurp.
"FEED ME… THE WORLD."
Aunt Seraphina cracked her knuckles.
"Well. This is new."