The Crumbbeast’s eyes glowed a fiery red as it stepped forward, its heavy paws crunching the ground beneath it. Its body, a twisted collection of stale crusts and hardened crumbs, shifted as if it were alive—shifting in the breeze, breathing the air of a time long past.

  “You dare enter the Crumblends?” it growled, its voice a raspy, echoing whisper. “Do you not know that only those of the deepest dough may pass?”

  Rond the Rye shifted uneasily, his edges fraying in the tension of the moment. “It’s true. We’re not meant to be here…”

  “Then leave,” the Crumbbeast growled, its tone bitter, like the st remnants of a burnt baguette. “Before I crumble you into dust.”

  Louie stepped forward, his heart beating fast, but with resolve. “We’re here because we need the second Stone of Leaven. You’re the guardian of this nd, right? We don’t want to fight you. We just want the stone to restore fvor.”

  The Crumbbeast’s ears flickered—could it have been curiosity? It tilted its crumb-den head. “You think the stone is the key to saving you all? It is not. The stone only magnifies what is inside. If you are weak, it will corrupt you. If you are stale, it will harden you. You are not ready for what lies beyond.”

  Louie swallowed hard. He was no warrior, no hardened crust ready to face this beast. But there was something inside him—a stirring. A warmth. He couldn’t put it into words, but he knew what he had to do.

  “What if I’m ready?” Louie asked, his voice firm, though it shook inside. “What if I’m not just any loaf? What if I can rise?”

  The Crumbbeast snarled. “You do not know the trials you must face here. This is no easy path. The nd of Crumble holds power over all who dare enter. Your dough will be tested. Your worth will be weighed.”

  Rond stepped back, his face grim. “I don’t know if we can handle it, Louie.”

  But Louie didn’t back down. “We have to. I won’t let anyone else do it. If not now, then when?”

  Se the Cinnamon Roll, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. “We’ve come this far. If Louie’s heart is pure, then we follow him. We’re his dough, and if he says we rise, we rise together.”

  Pita, ever the strategist, nodded. “We have no choice but to trust him. All of us.”

  The Crumbbeast’s eyes narrowed. “Very well,” it said, its voice shifting, like sandpaper on stone. “I shall give you your test. The nd of Crumble is vast, and it shall reveal your true worth. Only those worthy of the stone may pass through the Crumblends.”

  “Then we’ll pass,” Louie said, stepping forward.

  The Crumbbeast stepped aside, its monstrous form looming like a dark mountain. “Prove your worth, Loaf. Prove that you are worthy of rising.”

  Without another word, the Crumbbeast vanished into the fog, and the ground before them cracked open, revealing a vast, barren ndscape, littered with broken bits of ancient bread and crumbled crumbs.

  The group moved cautiously into the Crumblends, the air heavy with dust. Everywhere they looked, the world seemed to have been torn apart by time itself—crumbs scattered like fallen leaves, cracks in the earth like jagged knife cuts.

  “This is it,” Rond muttered, his eyes scanning the terrain. “This is where breads go when they’ve been forgotten.”

  Louie’s feet sank slightly into the dry, crumb-filled ground, but he pushed forward.

  Suddenly, a voice echoed through the air, smooth and thick like honey. It was warm and inviting, but had a twisted edge to it.

  “Welcome, weary travelers.”

  From the mist emerged a figure. It was a loaf of bread—soft, round, and golden-brown—but something was off. Its crust was perfect, smooth, and untouched, as though it had never been baked.

  “Who are you?” Louie demanded, stepping forward.

  The figure smiled, a soft, almost mocking smile. “I am the Keeper of Crumbs. And I’ve seen many loaves like you. Many who come here thinking they are worthy. Many who think they deserve the stone.”

  Louie frowned. “I’m here to prove that I’m ready. To rise beyond my beginnings.”

  The Keeper chuckled, a deep, rich sound. “You think your worth is in your ability to rise? Worth is not given. It is earned.”

  Suddenly, the Keeper raised its arm, and the ground beneath them cracked open. A massive, swirling vortex of crumbs and crumbs tumbled from the sky.

  “You must face what you fear the most,” the Keeper said, its voice now cold and distant. “In the Crumblends, all loaves must confront their own crumbling. Let’s see if you can rise from it.”

  Without warning, Louie was pulled into the swirling mass. His body was tossed, tossed like dough in a mixer, battered by the onsught of crumbling memories, fears, and doubts. The winds howled with the sound of voices—old, familiar voices.

  “You’re not good enough.”

  “You’ll never rise to the top.”

  “You’re just another stale loaf.”

  Louie struggled to breathe, the crumbs choking him, sinking into his flesh, but he fought through it. He clenched his fists. “I am more than this.”

  “I am more than my past.”

  “I will rise!”

  With one final cry, Louie broke free from the suffocating whirlwind of crumbs. His crust glowed with new light, fresh and golden, like a loaf pulled straight from the oven.

  The Keeper’s voice echoed, softer now. “You have passed the first test. But the Crumblends are not finished with you yet. You are only beginning your journey.”

  Louie gasped for air, his body trembling but strong.

  “We’re not done yet,” Louie said, his voice stronger than before. “But we will rise. Together.”

  To be continued…