Chapter 23 — The Queens' Cake

"You can wear crowns and still bake with fingers full of sugar."

In the Moon Palace, morning is never rushed. It stretches, it glides like a sigh of mist over the silver stones, and slips between curtains woven with cool light, without ever creasing them. and at the heart of the palace, a sacred kitchen awakens not a fire of war, but of memory, and of hands that transmit. Chang'e, a silhouette of eternity in a hanfu of silence, makes a lunar porcelain teapot shimmer her movements are slow, almost religious beside her, Hera, the former queen of olympus, has rolled up her sleeves; her toga is held up by celestial ribbons, and her gaze betrays a joy she thought lost for centuries finally, Saphira, barefoot, bundled in an oversized kimono, looks at a bowl of flour as if it's about to tell her a secret.

—"What are we making today?" she asks.

Chang'e turns to her, an almost invisible smile. 

—"We are going to forge a cake, but not just any cake a queens' cake, to offer a memory to those who govern without having asked for it."

Saphira blinks.

 —"A memory you can eat? i like that."

They prepare everything in silence the dough is born in a melody of ancient songs Chang'e murmurs forgotten prayers stardust rises in spirals unicorn milk flows slowly, warm like a fearless morning comet sugar, still vibrant with light, melts at the touch of silence. Hera, with strong arms, kneads the dough as if cradling a memory she laughs softly, recalling Diva as a child, running naked in an olympian palace. Saphira, focused, adds a pinch of blue light born from her own heart.

—"So it tastes like me."

Then comes the heart's cream, Hera whips with the energy of contained thunder; each turn creates a suspended image, Kael, hair wet from rain, laughing defenselessly, Destiny, hidden behind a book, observing silently, Rose, hands covered in sugar, smiling softly.

—"I'm afraid it's going to be too good… we'll cry eating it," Saphira whispers.

Élya, always present without a sound, adds a pinch of sweet memories crystal sugar confetti, dried flowers from Hope, and a feather soft as forgiveness when the cake is ready, they go out into the suspended garden the sky slowly opens, like a cosmic eyelid they place a slice on a hollow stone a prayer takes flight, invisible, but real.

—"For those who reigned without ever reigning for those who protected without ever fighting. and for the queens who didn't know they were."

The rest of the cake is eaten silently. Laughter is born, but never pierces the sky it rises, like a sweet vapor, towards the stars and in this crownless morning, three goddesses made peace with their memories by baking a cake.

End of chapter 23 — The Queens' Cake