The explosion didn't sound like a bomb; it sounded like a heavy door finally being closed on a cold night.
A pillar of golden, aromatic steam erupted from the Great Black Oven, shooting through the ceiling and piercing the grey clouds above. The World-Loaf began to bake, but it wasn't inside the oven—it was the fortress itself.
The obsidian turned to golden-brown crust. The frozen chains turned into ropes of honeyed sugar. The Arch-Baker wailed as the heat of a billion shared meals poured into his hollow chest. He couldn't contain the flavor; he couldn't survive the joy. He dissolved into a flurry of flour and spice, his essence scattered to the winds.
Kaelen crawled toward Elara through the golden mist. His armor was gone, replaced by his simple, sweat-soaked tunic. He found her slumped against the hearth, her copper hair glowing in the new light.
"Elara?" he rasped, his heart stopping as he saw how still she was.
He pulled her into his lap, his hands trembling. The fortress around them was humming, a low, musical vibration of peace. The "Bitter-Base" was being overwritten by the "Sweet-Foundation."
"Wake up," Kaelen whispered, his tears falling onto her cheek. "The oven is off. The sun is out. You can't leave me in the kitchen alone."
Elara's eyelids fluttered. She coughed, the scent of cinnamon escaping her lips. She looked up at Kaelen and smiled, a weak but triumphant thing. "Did... did it rise?"
Kaelen let out a sob of relief, crushing her to his chest. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."