Gemotions

"It's all yours, Eleanor," her Uncle Silas had announced, gesturing towards the bustling family bakery. Her brother, James, was given a collection of valuable art. Eleanor, though, inherited a recipe book. The sheer weight of the expectation began to weigh on her.

She flipped through the aging pages, filled with detailed instructions and faded ink. Some of the recipes were familiar, comforting. Others, however, were bizarre, the ingredients listed in an archaic language she struggled to comprehend.

That night, alone in the bakery, the scent of yeast and sugar filling the air, she felt a sudden chill. She tried to make one of the simpler recipes, but it went wrong, the dough rising too fast, becoming rubbery, unyielding. Something wasn't right.