Lily and the robot stepped through the shimmering door, and in an instant, the world around them changed.
They fell—not onto an ordinary floor, but onto a soft, warm surface that smelled sweet and familiar.
Lily opened her eyes, blinking at the gentle light coming from a lit fireplace.
They were in a kitchen. But not just any kitchen.
Pots floated calmly above an invisible stove, releasing tiny sparks of blue light.
Herbs and spices danced in the air, spreading an aroma of cinnamon, ginger, and something indescribably magical.
The floor was made of tiles that changed color, like a board reacting to Lily's breathing rhythm.
— Where are we? — asked the robot, adjusting his metallic shoulders, still recovering from the fall.
— Somewhere between reality and dream — Lily replied, still looking around in wonder.
Suddenly, a soft giggle broke the silence.
A small figure appeared, sitting atop a pile of old, dusty books.
It was a child, apparently — copper curls, wide bright eyes, and a smile that hid immense secrets.
But there was something odd about her. The child wore a long cloak that looked like liquid shadows, and her voice was calm and deep, as if carrying ages of wisdom.
— You've finally arrived, older sister. — The voice was soft, yet firm.
Lily's eyes widened.
— Sister...? You know my name?
The child smiled, tilting her head.
— I know many things. I know you carry a golden light that pulses, and that time is not on your side.
She slowly descended from the pile of books, floating lightly, as if the floor couldn't quite hold her.
— I'm the guardian of this place. The kitchen where memories are cooked and secrets are revealed.
The robot stepped closer, curious.
— Guardian? That sounds dangerous.
The child gave a small laugh.
— Dangerous? Maybe. But also necessary.
She sat on the floor, crossing her legs, and looked directly at Lily.
— To move forward, you must prove you can remember — not only what was lost, but what was never said.
Lily felt the weight of those words.
— And if I forget?
— Then this place will keep you, until you're ready.
An old clock on the wall struck three times, and the floor turned into a deep shade of blue.
— Time begins to move. Are you ready for the first trial?
Lily took a deep breath, feeling the robot's hand squeeze hers.
— I am.
The guardian child smiled, and a huge book appeared floating between them, its blank pages waiting to be filled.
Suddenly, the setting changed.
The space filled with sounds and lights, and in front of them appeared a counter, equipped with the strangest magical ingredients and utensils.
Beside it, the little witch, wearing her cloak of liquid shadows, adjusted her colorful apron and threw a challenging look at Lily.
— Let the trials begin! — announced the guardian.
In the audience, magical forest animals sat with elegance: a deer in a black tailcoat and top hat, an owl with a pearl necklace and monocle, a rabbit in a flawless tuxedo. They were the judges, observing carefully.
Lily clutched the apron with trembling hands. The counter looked like a mess of strange ingredients, and the pressure from the judges and the fancy audience only increased her anxiety.
She tried to mix a singing root, but it slipped and fell to the floor, letting out a flat note that made the owl frown.
— This is not good... — muttered the robot, worried.
Lily took a deep breath, but her heart pounded.
"I don't know how to do this. I can't."
The pots began to hiss, smoke filled the kitchen, and everything became a blur.
She closed her eyes and suddenly, in a vivid memory, saw her father in the kitchen at home.
He was smiling while stirring a pot, preparing the alphabet soup she loved so much.
— This soup has a surprise, Lily — he would say, pouring colorful letters into the pot, forming her name.
She remembered the joy and love in that simple moment, so magical to her.
She opened her eyes, the warmth of that memory giving her strength.
— I can do this. I'll make something with what I have.
Lily returned to mixing the ingredients, not trying to create something perfect, but something true.
A sweet and comforting aroma began to fill the kitchen, blossoming in notes that smelled like childhood, love, and hope.
The robot helped her, programming small effects to bring the dish to life.
When they finished, she held up her dish — a small glowing bowl where floating letters formed her name.
— It's alphabet soup... only magical.
The audience went silent, the animals in awe.
The deer smiled, the owl blinked with emotion, and the rabbit did a little dance of joy.
— This soup speaks to the heart — said the owl, taking the bowl to taste.
With the first spoonful, a wave of warmth and light filled the room.
Lily smiled, feeling her strength came from something greater than herself.
The witch stared at Lily's bowl with an expression hard to read.
Her eyes sparkled for a moment — surprise? Admiration? Envy?
She picked up her own creation: a beautifully arranged dish with sugar crystal petals, preserved moonlight drops, and almond mist cream. Visually stunning, but there was something... empty.
The audience began to whisper.
The deer adjusted his monocle with a hoof and was the first to taste the witch's dish. He sniffed delicately, took a spoonful, and chewed slowly.
He paused. Then wiped his mouth with a lace napkin.
— Aesthetically enchanting — he said in a deep, refined voice. — But lacking... something human.
The owl was next. She tasted both soups with narrowed eyes and an incredibly critical beak.
After a long silence, she simply said:
— Memories feed more than spices.
The rabbit didn't even try to hide it: he dove enthusiastically into Lily's soup and sighed with teary eyes.
— I felt... my childhood! — he exclaimed, crying dramatically and waving a golden fan.
— You didn't even have a childhood — whispered the owl, rolling her eyes.
Everyone laughed, even some birds perched on high magical shelves.
The witch crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. But when she looked at Lily, her expression softened. She sighed.
— You've won this round, sister. But know this... memories can shine, yes. But they can also burn.
She snapped her fingers. The counter vanished. The audience applauded with wings, paws, and tails — a strange and enchanting spectacle.
The floor glowed like liquid stars. In the center, a spiral staircase rose, made of book pages and silvery vapors.
The child-witch smiled, more gently this time.
— Climb, Lily. The next room awaits. And with it... new memories.
The robot looked at her, impressed.
— You cooked a memory.
Lily held the bowl carefully, one last letter floating softly in the golden broth.
— No. I just... remembered who I am.
And together, they climbed the magical staircase, as the forest applauded, enchanted.