Chapter 77: The Setup

Seraphine's POV

I frowned, reaching for the oven mitts. The baking pan wasn't centered. It sat awkwardly to one side, almost touching the oven wall. Like someone had shoved it back in a hurry.

But I'd placed it dead center. I was sure of it.

"Something wrong?" Cordelia peered over my shoulder.

"I don't know." I pulled the pan out, setting it on the counter. "The pan moved. And look at this."

The bread's surface was uneven. Irregular cracks split the golden crust. Large bubbles had formed in some spots, creating strange pockets. The whole thing looked... off.

"Maybe the oven's heat distribution is weird?" Evander suggested.

"Maybe." But doubt twisted in my gut.

I grabbed a knife, slicing through the loaf. The inside looked fine. Soft, airy texture. The smell was incredible—rich wheat and butter.

My frown deepened. It looks normal inside. So why does the outside look like this?

"Can we try it?" Cordelia asked, eyes bright with curiosity.

I hesitated. Something felt wrong. But what? The inside looked perfect. Smelled perfect.

"Just a small piece," I said finally.

I cut three tiny pieces from the edge. Each about a bite-size. We each took one.

The moment it hit my tongue, warmth spread through my mouth. Soft. Slightly sweet. The crust had a nice crunch.

"Holy shit, this is good!" Cordelia's eyes went wide.

Evander nodded enthusiastically. "Really good. The kids will love this."

I chewed slowly, analyzing the taste. Nothing seemed off. Just good bread. Simple. Warm.

So why do I feel uneasy?

"You're sure I can bring this to the school?" I asked Evander.

"Of course. Like I said, they'd love something homemade."

Cordelia grabbed my arm. "I'll come with you. Make it a surprise visit."

I looked down at the bread. The weird cracks. The shifted pan. But everyone said it tasted fine. And those kids deserved something warm. Something made with care.

Maybe I'm just paranoid. After everything with Vespera, I'm seeing threats everywhere.

"Okay," I said. "Let's go."

---

The walk to the school took about fifteen minutes. Evander led the way, the bread basket swinging from my arm. Morning sun filtered through bare tree branches, casting long shadows across the snow.

"Why is the school even open during the festival?" I asked.

Evander's expression grew somber. "Some of the kids don't have families. They lost their parents in territory disputes. Or rogue attacks. The school is the only home they have."

My chest tightened. "They stay there year-round?"

"Yeah. We have dormitories for them. Staff who rotate staying overnight."

Cordelia added quietly, "During festivals, it's harder. Other kids go home to their families. These ones... they're left behind. Teachers volunteer to stay, keep them company."

I gripped the basket harder. Left behind. Alone while everyone else celebrates.

"That's why we bring them things," Evander continued. "Try to make the holidays special. They deserve that much."

Images of Lyralei and me flashed through my mind. Two orphans in a pack that never wanted us. Watching other kids run to their parents. Feeling invisible.

"They do," I said quietly. "They deserve everything."

The school building came into view. Two stories, brick construction. Windows reflected the morning light. Smoke curled from a chimney—someone had a fire going inside.

We climbed the front steps. Evander pushed the door open, and warmth rushed out. The inside smelled like wood polish and chalk dust.

"The younger ones are in the main classroom," he said, leading us down a hallway.

My heart beat faster. These kids. Orphans like me. I could give them something. Something small but real.

Evander opened a classroom door.

---

Seven kids looked up. Ages ranging maybe five to twelve. Their faces brightened when they saw Evander.

"Mr. Evander!" A small girl with dark braids ran over.

"Hey, Mira." He ruffled her hair. "Everyone, I brought some visitors. This is Sera. And Cordelia, you met her before."

Curious eyes studied us. Some shy. Some bold.

A red-haired girl about ten stepped forward. "Are you Mr. Evander's new friend?"

Heat crept up my neck. "I... yes."

"Cool." She grinned. "I'm Ember."

The other kids crowded closer. Questions tumbled out.

"Are you a teacher too?"

"Have you found your mate?"

"What subject do you teach?"

I laughed despite my nerves. "Some of those answers are complicated."

"But I brought something for you." I lifted the basket. "Fresh bread. Still warm."

Their faces lit up. Pure joy. No pretense. Just excitement.

My throat went tight. When was the last time I made someone this happy?

Ember helped me slice the bread into large pieces. Not tiny bites like we'd had. Actual portions. Each kid got a generous chunk.

"Wow, it smells amazing!" A blonde boy grabbed his piece eagerly.

"Better than cafeteria food," another agreed.

They bit in. Smiles spread across their faces.

"It's so soft!"

"And sweet!"

"Can I have more?"

Watching them eat, seeing their happiness—it filled something hollow inside me. These kids. Abandoned. Forgotten. They deserved this. They deserved so much more.

"Eat as much as you want," I said.

They didn't need to be told twice. Large bites. Happy chewing. Some went back for seconds.

I stood back, watching with Cordelia and Evander. Warmth spread through my chest.

This. This is what matters.

About fifteen minutes passed. The kids had demolished most of the bread. Some were licking crumbs off their fingers. Others chatted happily.

Then the blonde boy clutched his stomach.

"Ow." His face scrunched up. "My stomach..."

"What's wrong?" Evander moved closer.

"It hurts. Like something's moving inside."

Another kid, a small girl with glasses, turned pale. "Mine too. It feels... weird."

Ice shot through my veins. No. No, no, no.

More kids started grabbing their stomachs. Faces going white. Bodies hunching over.

Ember bent forward, arms wrapped around her middle. "Mr. Evander... it really hurts..."

"What's happening?" I rushed to her side. "Ember, what—"

"Everything's expanding," she gasped. "Like balloons inside me..."

Panic clawed up my throat. The bread. Something's wrong with the bread.

Evander's face went hard. "Everyone to the medical room. Now. Can you walk?"

The kids nodded, though several looked ready to vomit. They shuffled toward the door, some leaning on each other.

Cordelia gripped my arm. "Sera—"

"I don't understand." My voice shook. "We tasted it. It was fine. I don't—"

"Come on." She pulled me after the group. "Let's get them checked."

We hurried down the hallway. Each kid's wince felt like a knife in my gut. What did I do wrong? What did I miss?

The medical room door stood open. A man in a white coat emerged. Dark hair streaked with gray. Sharp eyes that missed nothing.

"Evander." His voice was calm but concerned. "What happened?"

"They ate bread. All of them. Now they're sick."

The doctor—Dr. Thorne, according to the nameplate—gestured the kids inside. "Sit. Let me examine you."

I hovered in the doorway, watching. Useless. Helpless. The kids looked miserable. Ember's face had gone pale green.

This is my fault. I made this. I gave it to them.

Dr. Thorne checked each child. Asked questions. Pressed gently on their stomachs. After several minutes, he straightened.

"Where's the bread?"

Evander held up what remained. Maybe a quarter of the loaf.

Dr. Thorne took it, examining closely. He broke off a piece. Sniffed it. Then his expression darkened.

"This has excessive baking powder," he said flatly. "Five or six times the normal amount."

My blood turned to ice. "What?"

"Look at these irregular bubbles. The cracks in the crust." He held up the piece. "Classic signs of too much leavening agent."

Evander frowned. "But we tasted it. Just a small bite. We were fine."

"Adult wolves can handle small amounts. Our stomach acid neutralizes it. But children..." Dr. Thorne gestured to the kids. "Their digestive systems are still developing. Large quantities produce excess carbon dioxide gas. Causes bloating, pain, nausea."

"Will they be okay?" My voice came out strangled.

"Yes. Uncomfortable for a day or two. I'll give them medication to help with digestion." His eyes met mine. "But they consumed significant portions. That's why the reaction is so severe."

Guilt crushed my chest. I gave them big pieces. Told them to eat as much as they wanted.

"I didn't—" Words caught in my throat. "I swear I measured everything right. I followed the recipe exactly—"

"Sera." Evander's hand touched my shoulder. "It's okay."

No. It's not okay. Nothing about this is okay.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Slow. Deliberate.

Then her voice cut through the air like a blade.

"Oh my. What happened here?"