The word ’cook’ fell into the clearing like an unfamiliar stone, drawing confused looks from every direction as if Aurora had just spoken in an entirely different language. Several brows furrowed, a few heads tilted, and even the murmurs died down for a moment as they tried to process what she had just said.
"Cook...?" Calix repeated slowly, the word rolling awkwardly off his tongue as his attention fixed on her without his usual sharp hostility. For a brief second, he seemed to forget who he was speaking to as curiosity momentarily overpowered prejudice.
Aurora noticed and decided to use the chance.
She didn’t hesitate, didn’t give them time to retreat back into suspicion. Instead, she straightened slightly and kept her tone calm but deliberate as she spoke, "When the Beast God blessed me with the power of fire, it wasn’t just the flame itself."
That line alone was enough to pull every bit of attention toward her.
"He showed me how to use it," she continued smoothly, keeping her expression composed and her voice steady enough to sound convincing without overplaying it. "Not just to create warmth... but to improve the way we consume food."
The word ’improve’ lingered in the air, unfamiliar yet intriguing.
Aurora gestured toward the pile of tubers nearby as her gaze swept briefly over the group before settling back. "Mira and the others found these earlier," she said. "They are edible, but not particularly appealing when eaten raw."
Mira immediately nodded while stepping slightly forward as if to reinforce Aurora’s words. "That’s true," she added in a thoughtful tone. "It wasn’t unpleasant... but it wasn’t something we’d prefer to eat."
Aurora inclined her head slightly, then added, "Fire changes that."
That statement drew them in and their curiosity deepened.
Even those who had been whispering moments ago fell silent again, their focus shifting fully toward her now. The earlier hostility hadn’t disappeared, but it had been pushed aside by something stronger - interest.
Aurora turned back to the fire without another word and crouched down, picking up the cleaned tubers before placing them carefully into the glowing charcoal. The faint crackle of heat responded instantly, small embers shifting as the tubers settled into place.
"They need time," she said, brushing her hands lightly as she stood again. "You don’t rush this. When they are ready... you’ll know."
"And how will we know?" one of the onlookers asked cautiously.
Aurora glanced back at them and a faint, almost knowing look crossed her face. "When the smell reaches you," she replied simply. "Sweet... warm... impossible to ignore."
That answer lingered. And no one questioned it further.
With the tubers now roasting, she shifted her attention back to the matter she had not forgotten - not even for a moment. Her gaze moved directly to Calix and Soren and her expression returned to its earlier calm sharpness.
"You still owe me an apology."
The reminder cut cleanly through the moment, causing both men to stiffen instantly.
Neither of them looked pleased. If anything, the tension in their expressions deepened as they realized how quickly they had acted earlier and how easily they had believed the worst of her without question.
But could they be blamed?
The Aurora they all knew had done more than enough to earn that distrust.
Calix’s jaw tightened slightly as he lowered his gaze for a brief second before lifting again. Soren, on the other hand, looked far less composed. Irritation flickered across his face as if the situation itself offended him.
They were about to speak. But, of course, Lyria had to intervene.
"Who do you think you are?"
Her voice cut in sharply, laced with disbelief and disdain as she stepped forward once more, placing herself firmly into the center of the moment as if she refused to let it move forward without her involvement.
"To demand an apology from them?" she continued as she fixed her icy-cold gaze on Aurora, her lips curling faintly. "Just because you suddenly have the sacred power of fire doesn’t mean everything you have done will disappear."
Her words were calculated, precise, and effective. Because as soon as she finished speaking that last sentence, the atmosphere shifted again.
The earlier curiosity dimmed and got replaced by something darker - memory, resentment, and disgust.
Faces hardened and eyes narrowed as the weight of the original Aurora’s actions resurfaced, dragging the present moment down with it like chains around its ankles.
Aurora watched it happen silently.
Lyria wasn’t just attacking her. She was reminding everyone of what they wanted to believe - that Aurora was still the same, still cruel, still unworthy.
And just like that, the fire became secondary again.
Aurora exhaled slowly. With each passing moment, her patience with this woman was thining. Not because of the insults, but because of the repetition.
Every word Lyria spoke was designed to drag things backward.
Mira stepped forward again, her expression tightening as she looked at Lyria. "That’s enough, Lyria," she said firmly. "You are bringing up things that have nothing to do with what just happened."
Lyria turned to her immediately, the softness in her expression slipping just enough to reveal something sharper beneath. "You are too new to understand," she said in an almost pitying tone. "You don’t know what she’s capable of."
There it was, the subtle but unmistakable shift.
Lyria had hated the original owner because of her closeness with Calix and Soren back in the days. And she didn’t have to hide that hatred since every other person in the tribe hated Aurora just as much, though for different reasons.
And if she hated Aurora that much, one could imagine how much she must hate Mira since the latter was now mated to the two men Lyria had desired her entire life.
But unlike in Aurora’s case, Lyria had to hide her hatred toward Mira who was loved by everyone in the tribe.
However, as she stood facing both women she hated with every ounce of her existence, Lyria couldn’t really suppress her true feelings.
And Aurora saw everything clearly - the sweetness, the gentleness, the concern... all of it was a mask Lyria wore all the time. And behind it was something far uglier - jealousy, possessiveness, and resentment so deeply buried it had started to rot.
"You are right about one thing," Aurora said calmly.
Lyria blinked, momentarily thrown off.
Aurora tilted her head slightly. Her voice was steady, almost conversational as she continued, "The past doesn’t disappear just because something new appears."
Lyria’s lips curled faintly, clearly thinking she had gained ground.
But Aurora wasn’t done yet, not even close. "And that applies to everyone."
The words hit differently this time.
Lyria’s expression faltered.
Aurora’s gaze sharpened, and she lowered her voice just slightly. "You talk about my past like it defines me," she said. "But what about yours?"