Chapter 17 The Wyrm's Flesh

• I started with a small piece of meat, no bigger than my palm.
• The kitchen was quiet except for the crackle of the fire and the soft hiss of snow against the window. Kaelen stood by the door with his arms crossed, watching me like a man expecting an explosion. Isabelle sat at the table, her hands wrapped around a cup of cold tea, her eyes bright with a mixture of fear and fascination.
• I had decided to treat the wyrm meat like an unfamiliar protein. No assumptions. No shortcuts. Just careful observation and a healthy respect for the fact that this thing had been alive for centuries before Roderick cut its head off.