"You can do that?" Amberine said, half-impressed. "Illusions that trick taste buds?"
Maris shrugged, stirring the stew in slow circles. "Taste illusions don't last, but they might get us through breakfast. Don't blame me if you find out it's actually soggy lumps of old bread once the illusion wears off."
Elara, setting the chalk aside, walked over to the pot with measured steps. She took the ladle from Maris, tested a spoonful, and swallowed. Her expression remained unchanged, offering no clues. "It's fine," she announced, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. "Considering the alternatives, we can let illusions handle the flavor."
