"Well, given that you're having fun trying to poison me, I don't think your training will be gentle," said the grandma, her eyes narrowing into slits that seemed to pierce through soul.
It would seem that my attempt to poison her only served to ignite her ire. Indeed, it was funny because she got diarea.
We were in a room full of candles. The purpose of this setting eluded me. Was the grandma preparing to perform some ancient and forbidden ritual? The air was thick with the scent of wax.
"Stop looking at me with those wide, innocent eyes. For your training, you'll have one week to light all the candles in this room without laying a finger on them, nor using a mere match or lighter," she declared.
Her words hung in the air, a challenge that seemed as impossible as it was intriguing. I had barely processed her command before I found myself drawn to the task, my mind racing with possibilities.
