Ah, the tale of the Blackened Banquet of the Hollow Hall. A noble lord, swearing to host a feast for all kingdoms, gathered the finest fish from the River of Sorrow, the spiciest peppers from the Crimson Isles, and the sweetest honey from the abandoned bees of the Desert of Despair. He set the tables, poured the wine, and as the candles flickered, he whispered a forgotten oath to the dead king. Suddenly, the fire that had warmed the hearth blazed beyond control, turning the entire hall to ash, the fish turned to bone, and the honey, once sweet, turned to bile. The lord, with a smile like a broken lantern, took one last bite—only to choke on the ash. He died, the feast cursed, and the hall echoed with the lament of all who were meant to dine. No one ever recounted that day again, lest the curse rise again.