A line of aged cognac had breached the lip of a copper pan at the station next to Julian’s. Most students would have panicked, but Julian watched the flame leap. It didn't crawl; it hunted. Within seconds, the decorative silk banners hanging from the vaulted ceiling—relics of the academy’s hundred-year history—caught.
The fire alarm didn't scream; it gasped. The overhead suppression system clicked, but instead of water, a dry chemical powder began to hiss, clouding the room in a ghostly white veil. The Choice "Evacuate!" the Headmaster’s voice boomed over the roar. Cooking Academy Fire and Knives
When Julian stumbled out into the cool evening air of the courtyard, he was soot-streaked and gasping. His coat was ruined, and his eyebrows were gone. A line of aged cognac had breached the
The heat was instantaneous. Julian felt the hair on his forearms curl. His signature dish, a delicate scallop crudo that required surgical precision, sat half-finished. But his eyes were on the leather roll. Within seconds, the decorative silk banners hanging from