Elias didn't just survive Pastry Week; he became the architect of the tent. As Sarah packed her bags—tearful but smiling—Elias stood with his Star Baker apron, smelling of success and a hint of burnt sugar.

"The pastry is looking a bit... relaxed, Elias," Paul Hollywood noted, poking a finger into the dough with a squint that could curdle cream. "If it doesn't have that snap, it’s just a soggy sandwich." Elias swallowed hard. "It'll snap, Paul. I promise."

Elias used a hidden reinforcement of hard-crack sugar. When the time was called, the Cathedral stood—golden, shimmering, and impossibly flaky.