Standing there stirring the bubbling pot of sugarcane molasses, Ewan's gaze suddenly became distant and unfocused. The intense heat wafting into his face blurred his vision. In that fleeting moment, his sense of smell stimulated areas of memory thickly covered in the dust of time. He recalled the endless years that had passed across countless eras, witnessing the flourishing rise and catastrophic fall of civilizations. He remembered the soot-stained kitchens of ancient times, the peaceful riverbank villages that eventually ignited with the raging fires of war, and the people who had once cried and laughed, only to dissipate into cosmic dust, leaving no trace behind.
In a brief moment of profound disorientation, Ewan didn't even know if he was truly alive in this present reality. Or perhaps this was all just some wildly absurd, fantastical dream.
"Are you tired?"
A deep, warm voice echoed beside his ear, pulling Ewan from the void and grounding him back in the present.
