Peace, I quickly discovered, was suspicious, uncomfortable, and frankly very boring after surviving an ancient reality-eating monster, because for the first time in weeks nobody was bleeding, nobody was screaming about magical collapse, and nobody was attempting to sacrifice themselves dramatically in the name of destiny, which should have been comforting but instead left me sitting at breakfast feeling strangely restless while nine overgrown prince- babies argued loudly over something completely ridiculous involving toast formation strategy as though the fate of the kingdom depended on butter distribution.
"I am telling you," Damon insisted while pointing accusingly at Finn's plate, "stacking them like that ruins it all, the heat escapes unevenly."
Finn looked personally offended as he clutched his toast. "It is food, not a fortress defense system."
