CHAPTER 66: THE SCONE OF SECRETS

The muffin maze loomed around us, its rune-carved walls pulsing like a bakery gone mad, casting flickering light on the crumb-strewn, syrup-slick paths. The air was heavy with the scent of chocolate, blueberries, and the ever-present threat of doom, making every step feel like a bet against a baker’s curse. I clutched the Heart of Glimmerfen, its loaf-shaped glow throbbing like it was shouting, Don’t mess this up, Cecil! The Wyrm’s Quill buzzed in my hand, its light dancing like a firefly drunk on frosting, ready to unleash more pastry chaos. My coat was a catastrophe—torn, singed, glittering like a disco ball that had lost a fight with a pastry explosion—but I felt a fire, like my old Loafbearer powers were merging with the quill’s sugary insanity. I was Cecil Dreggs, the guy who’d once dropped a biscuit and accidentally started a bar brawl that made local legends. If I could survive flying muffins and a chocolate flood, I could conquer this maze and maybe prove I was more than a walking disaster.

My crew stumbled along, weapons out, looking like they’d rather be anywhere but this dessert dungeon. Lilith spun her scythe, her red eyes glaring at the runes like they’d personally offended her. "Cecil, if you trigger another trap, I’m tying you to a muffin and leaving you for the next monster." Her smirk was sharper than her blade, but there was a flicker of grudging respect.

Vorren hulked forward, his knife gleaming like it was ready to carve the maze itself. "If we die, I’m taking that orb, your coat, and whatever’s left of your ego." His growl echoed, but he stayed close, like he almost believed in me.

Jex, coated in sugar, syrup, and muffin crumbs, whimpered like a kid in a haunted bakery. "No snacks, no weapons, just deadly muffins! I’m doomed!" His voice cracked, echoing like a dropped plate.

Yvra strode forward, her dress still pristine, defying the maze’s mess like it was beneath her royal status. "Cecil, if you lead us into another disaster, I’ll have you exiled to a scone factory for eternity." Her tone was cold, but her eyes lingered on the Heart, intrigued.

Mister Fog floated above, sipping tea that smelled like burnt promises and cryptic omens. "The Heart’s power is growing, Cecil, but your focus is a crumbling biscuit. Channel it, or we’re all pie filling." His calm was maddening, but it kept me grounded.

Sir Thrain, covered in flour, syrup, and muffin bits, raised his lance. "For the crown’s pastry-filled honor!" He charged, tripped over a path, and fell into a muffin pit with a SPLAT. "Dishonorable confections!" he groaned, helmet sinking.

Sir Gorrim, his mustache a sticky mess of sprinkles and crumbs, waved his broken hilt. "By valor’s grace!" He slipped, landing in muffins with a WHUMP. "Cursed pastries!" he wheezed, flailing like a knight in a bakery swamp.

I twirled the quill, forcing a grin despite the crew’s groans. "Relax, team. We’ve got the Heart, the quill, and my unbeatable Doughnut Lord vibes. This maze is just a snack for us!" The quill buzzed, giving me a surge of confidence, though my stomach churned like I’d eaten a cursed scone.

Lilith snorted, her scythe scraping a rune with a SKREEE

. "Your ’vibes’ are why we’re dodging muffins, you fool." Her tone was sharp, but her eyes softened, like she was starting to think I might not die today.

The maze’s paths twisted, runes pulsing faster, like they were mocking my existence. The floor was a sticky mess of crumbs, syrup, and chocolate, making every step a gamble. I clutched the Heart, its glow warm, and felt a surge, like Valthorne’s power was whispering, You’re not a complete failure. The quill buzzed, and a faint scent of scones filled the air, which was either a good sign or a trap ready to ruin us.

The maze opened into a circular chamber, its walls carved with scone-shaped runes that glowed like a baker’s fever dream. In the center stood a pedestal, holding a massive scone, golden and studded with raisins, glowing faintly like it was the king of pastries. The air smelled like butter and secrets, and the Heart pulsed faster, like it recognized the scone.

"Whoa," I whispered, quill buzzing. "That’s no ordinary scone. That’s... the Scone of Secrets!" I had no idea if that was true, but it sounded cool.

Lilith’s eyes narrowed. "Cecil, if that scone’s a trap, I’m feeding you to it." Her scythe glinted, ready to slice.

Vorren grunted, sniffing the air. "Smells like trouble. Don’t touch it, Dreggs." His knife twitched, like it wanted to stab the scone.

Jex’s eyes lit up, hands twitching. "Can I eat it? Just a bite?" He reached, but Yvra grabbed his arm.

"Don’t," she snapped, dagger poised. "Cecil, this is your fault. Fix it." Her tone was ice, but her eyes flicked to the Heart, curious.

Mister Fog sipped his tea. "The Heart and scone are linked, Cecil. Be cautious." His warning sent a chill through me.

Thrain raised his lance. "For the crown’s scone-filled honor!" He tripped, falling into crumbs with a SPLAT. "Dishonorable pastries!" he groaned.

Gorrim waved his hilt. "By valor’s grace!" He slipped, landing in muffins with a WHUMP. "Cursed crumbs!" he wheezed.

I stepped toward the pedestal, quill buzzing, Heart glowing. "Okay, team, let’s grab this scone and get out!" The runes flared, and the scone glowed brighter, vibrating with a HUM

. I reached for it, and a spectral figure appeared—a baker in ancient robes, holding a rolling pin like a scepter.

"WHO DARES CLAIM THE SCONE OF SECRETS?" the baker boomed, his voice shaking the chamber. "Prove your worth, or face the wrath of the Dough!"

I gulped, quill flaring. "Cecil Dreggs, Doughnut Lord! I’ve got the Heart, and I’m here for answers!" The Heart pulsed, and I felt Valthorne’s power, like it was cheering me on.

The baker’s eyes glowed. "Answer my riddle, or perish! What is baked with intent, yet crumbles under doubt?"

I blinked, scratching my head. "Uh... a scone?" The quill buzzed, and the Heart glowed, like I was close.

The baker’s rolling pin glowed. "Close! Speak truer!" Muffins flew from the pits, faster and meaner, with a WHOOSH-WHOOSH.

I ducked, a muffin grazing my coat with a SPLAT. "Okay, intent... confidence? A scone baked with purpose holds strong, but doubt makes it fall apart!" The quill flared, and the Heart pulsed, blinding.

The baker nodded. "Worthy!" The muffins stopped, and the scone glowed brighter. I grabbed it, and visions hit me—Valthorne baking for peace, his power in the Heart and quill. My power.

Lilith slashed a muffin, sparks flying. "Cecil, you’re not dead yet. Impressive."

Vorren grunted, punching a muffin. "Don’t get cocky."

Jex ate a muffin, grinning. "You’re the best, Cecil!"

Yvra’s dagger pinned a muffin. "This is absurd, but effective."

Mister Fog sipped his tea. "The Heart and scone are one. Be cautious."

Thrain and Gorrim shouted, "For the crown!" and fell with a SPLAT and WHUMP. "Dishonorable crumbs!" Gorrim wheezed.

The tunnel rumbled, runes flaring. I clutched the scone and Heart, quill buzzing. "Let’s go, team!" I led the way, ready for more traps and a shot at being a real hero.