The smell hit first.
Before the sound, before the visible evidence—the smell reached the receiving room and pulled people toward the kitchen the way current pulls things downstream.
Garlic and butter going dark in a pan. Something savory and deep underneath, meat and herbs, the kind of layered smell that meant someone who actually understood what they were doing was working in there.
Then something sweeter beneath it—roasting vegetables, caramelizing edges, the slight edge of char that separated 'cooked' from 'good'.
Vivian found herself on her feet without having decided to stand.
She wasn't alone.
Gwen had straightened. Even Kaida's nose had twitched. Bella had materialized at the kitchen doorway like she'd teleported.
They filed in by degrees.
Viktor stood at the stove, a pan handle in one hand, his back to them. He'd rolled his sleeves to the elbows, the motion businesslike. He didn't look up when people drifted in.
