The next morning, while the camp was still waking up and the fresh forest breeze carried the scent of damp earth, I got to work. I didn’t have anything resembling the ingredients from my world, but if there was one thing I knew, it was that food could be transformed with a bit of imagination. Rhea, organizing the men for the day, shot me a skeptical look as I passed by with a handful of basic ingredients: dried meat, some wild herbs, roots, and what looked like small tomato-like fruits.
“What are you doing now, human?” she asked in a tone that made it clear she wasn’t expecting anything good.
“Something magical,” I replied without stopping.
I found a quiet corner where the fire from the previous night still crackled faintly. I set up an improvised cooking station, using a flat rock as a
