Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the ancient times, Cookies would gather round the Fount of Knowledge and listen to his teachings for hours at a time. From all around earth-bread, scholars would come to study at his academy. It was his passion and his duty to enlighten everyone willing with knowledge. 

“Tell us, Fount of Knowledge! What is the meaning behind our existences?”

“Your existence is defined by mystery —nobody can tell you why you exist, it would take the Fun out of searching for an answer yourself. What do you think? That’s the answer you should search for!”

Cookies would line up to be told their fortunes. He had no choice but to answer them all with a similar answer each time — “What’s right will unveil itself when it’s ready.”

Or at least, that’s what he wished he’d told them. It would’ve saved him a lot of trouble in the future if he had just lied the first time around — Sometimes, a white lie is needed to protect the innocence of cookie kind.

“Why do you bother?” The Sugar of Happiness asked him once over sweetened tea, “Nobody seems happier after learning the Truth — including you. It’s all so repetitive, seems like energy consuming, time wasting busy work.”

“I want to inspire them to seek out knowledge, and if that must come at the cost of their worldview once in a while, then so be it.”

“I suppose.” She took a sip, “You only want them to be happy. I can commend that — I want much the same for all cookies. But why do you persist when it comes at the cost of your happiness instead?”

“What are you saying?”

“Nothing. Why don’t you take some time off, rest your weary head in my paradise for a while?”

“Sugar, my dear...” He set down the tea cup, “There’s something plaguing my mind…I am sure you are aware of the news.”

The Sugar of Happiness frowned. “I am.” They both knew it. The once Herald of Change had transformed. Become something delusional, broken free of his confinement so to speak. The Fount, while aware of this potential outcome, still could not help but fear. Fear for those he held in high regard. All those precious memories held by the greatest minds, they could nor go to waste.

“If, by some chance, the war reaches to my spire of Knowledge, will you come to my aid to protect me, or will it be too late?”

The Sugar of Happiness shook her head, “I don’t enjoy violence. None of us Virtues should have ever turned to it in the first place, this was meant to be a peaceful world.”

”And Yet,” said the Fount, “I am far from a warrior, my dear Sugar Angel, but as the Virtue of Knowledge, I cannot let the world turn to ashes to satisfy his arrogance. Through inaction we will all be held accountable for the destruction of this world.”

She caught his subtext. “If you expect me to follow you on this path to vengeance, I’m sorry to inform you that I can do no more than shield the mortals of this world in my eternal paradise. But I will not let you hurt me in the process.”

”Then I promise,” he said, taking her hand and pressing a light kiss to her knuckles, “I won’t let you be responsible for any of the suffering. I’ll find a solution — I always do.”

Somewhere in the ghost forest not far from the spire…

Thanks to Black Sapphire’s efforts, Shadow Milk Cookie had managed to open up a portal to escape the spire, those so called heroes and Pure Vanilla Cookie, who was still staring at him with that same pitying frown as his dough stretched across time and infinity to be spat out somewhere in the forests surrounding the tower of knowledge. Spindles of tree branches obscured the view to the village, so for all they knew they were on the opposite side of the spire from it. Funny, multiple millennia had passed and it still held most of its structure.

Yet, that pristine white of the spire was merely an illusion, where the real wall was filled with cracks and covered in vines.

While he was getting his bearings, his servants were both panicking, Black Sapphire Cookie pacing around and speaking rather quickly into his microphone; and Candy Apple Cookie was doing enough yelling for the three of them.

“Gah! Those stupid, useless, plain floured, good for nothing Fools! I could tear them apart - take me back there, Black Sapphire, Take Me Back!”

“For the sake of our show’s age rating, and for the sake of Your Health, I’m not doing that.” Black Sapphire said absentmindedly, “What happened back there, Master Shadow Milk Cookie?”

But he didn’t have the guts to respond. He was busy in his own head, reeling from the words Pure vanilla had said to him mere seconds before.

“It doesn’t have to be this way…”

“Please, let me be your… friend…”

There was dew seeping into his dough, he could feel it wetting his knees. But all his energy had to be focused on stopping himself from shaking.

It happened…Again.  Just when he thought himself incapable of being betrayed, just when he thought he had the world in his hands…

Pure Vanilla Cookie, the virtuous, ever-compassionate and never lying, had tricked the master of deceit himself. And he’d taught the little gnat how to do it. Showed him the ways in which the mind could be manipulated — Pure vanilla had even used his own abilities for empathy to toy with his feelings.

“I could feel how lonely you were.”

What did he know? Why would he care!

“This isn’t real. It can’t be… real.” He bunched his fist and ripped the grass hard enough to pull up roots, “How did I lose to such an insignificant shard of my Own Power?!”

In the next moment, a gaping wound was blasted in a tree, splitting it clean open. The branches smoked and curled inwards, singed by the flames of his power.

His servants expressed their shock through gasps or calling out, but what did they know? Nothing! They had no idea how much this defeat stung — they couldn’t ever know.

It's because you’re weak, little blueberry. Soon enough your so-called followers will see that. Then what? You’ll be all alone again.

No, No, SHUT UP—!

The rustling of a newcomer broke them all out of thought or conversation. Small as a crème sheep, soft as one too; there it was, to their left. Its curious eyes scanned them before it bleated and turned away from them.

Candy Apple reached out to him. “Master-“

“Stay back!” Black Sapphire stage whispered, “Give him space.”

He climbed back to his feet, floating off the ground and towards the sheep.

Pure Vanilla Cookie used to be a Shepherd in his youth. He took care of all kinds of little cream sheep.

He was even willing to reach out to the one that Shadow Milk Cookie had made look so repulsive and unsettling, despite the dangers.

Seeing him hold the little creatures so gently, with so much care like they had never been held with love before…

Oh, it infuriated him. Every fiber of his being battled between unprecedented jealousy and deep, horrible anger. It tore him apart. He needed to tear this sheep apart to make up for it!

He raised his staff and no one had the chance to call out before he hit the sheep over the head. It fell to its knees and hesitated just a moment too long; He hit it again, and again.

“I will end him!” He yelled, “I’ll take everything he loves,” Bang, “Everything he cares for,” Crack, “Everyone who Cares about Him!” Squelch, “All of it! I’ll burn his kingdom to the ground!”

“Candy Apple, get back!”

“Everyone who sees his light as some bastion of safety will heed my wrath!” His voice broke as it landed on the words Safety and Wrath, “And every piece of him that exists in this world, I’ll make sure to extinguish! Forget his soul jam, I’m going to destroy everything else that exists around him! And when I’m done, I’ll crumble him once and for all!”

He took a moment to breathe, but before he could raise his staff again, Candy Apple Cookie yanked it out of his hands, and Black Sapphire yanked it out of hers. “Seriously, Candy Apple…”

But their master didn’t fight for it back. He fell to his knees and allowed the damages to sink in. There was a pile of wet wool and red jam at his knees, and he was covered in it. It dripped off his cheek, along with the tears he’d been holding in for so long.

He needed to frame this differently or he might never calm down.

If pure vanilla had truly managed to deceive him, that must mean there was still a tinge of the darkness left in his soul jam — a tether through which Shadow Milk Cookie could possibly reignite his soul to deceit and claim his full power once again.

He was the greatest teacher after all, and his trickery was so great that he could even lie to himself! After all, that soul jam was always his to begin with; what difference did it make that the trickster was another cookie? They were the same in the end.

Yes, he might’ve lost the battle, but he would win in the end; no matter the cost!

Slowly his sobs turned into laughter, like a dam breaking and a river engulfing everything. His laughter came to him between heavy breaths that hurt his ribs to take in.

“I’m going to find you, Pure Vanilla Cookie!” He screamed, “And when I do, you bet your Life I won’t fail a second time!”

Chapter Text

None of them were in high spirits the entire walk away from that clearing. Candy Apple was so shocked by the master’s behavior she looked on the nervous verge of tears. Black Sapphire had to tell a funny anecdote about a self-important king and his tailors to get her giggling again. After that, the trio traveled until they found running water and Shadow Milk cookie flew to the edge of the riverbank to check its depth. “Well! It’s not yogurt, but I’m sure you two can handle a bit of sink or swim, huh?”

“I’m sure there is a bridge across, perhaps we should-“

“Sink it is!”

He dove like a swan into the river and the jam evaporated in the current. It took a concerning length of time for him to break the surface of the water again.

When he did, he’d taken a new form. Alike a helpless maiden, her dress soaked through and her mascara dripping. It certainly gave the effect of his emotional state; but when he turned to gesture they follow his lead he looked more annoyed than heartbroken. “Well, are you going to follow me, or do I get to be abandoned by my servants too?”

***

Black Sapphire and Candy Apple Cookie sat outside an abandoned tent. They found it a little ways away from the fairy kingdom, which Shadow Milk was adamant they should not return to, despite how he had taken it over previously. 

He didn’t explain the reason behind his disguise, but as his loyal retainers they both had their own ideas.

“I don’t get it!” Candy Apple said to break the heavy silence between the two. “How come I get turned into a card, and that Pure Vanilla cookie gets promises of absolute destruction? How does he get master Shadow Milk cookie’s attention, and we don’t!”

“Might not be a good time to get jealous, Candy Apple Cookie. Neither of us have ever seen him so…. Upset.”

“Oh, you weren’t there when he found out about how I beheaded his little plushie doll of Pure Vanilla Cookie!”

Black Sapphire turned his eyes and they looked murderous in the firelight. “That was you?”

“Ehehehe! He was soooo mad! I’ve never been so happy to be hung upside down over a lake of snakes in my life!”

He rubbed the inner corners of his eyes with his fingertips. “Oh you silly brat…. Well then, we haven’t seen him so upset Since you ripped the head off his newest doll!”

“Why does he even have that anyway? Don’t you think his obesssion with that guy is a little… weird?”

“I can’t disagree with that. There’s something tugging at my nerves ever since… Nevermind. We’ve both lived long enough to know that master Shadow Milk Cookie makes dolls of all his favourite toys to commemorate them when they crumble, this probably means nothing, or it will mean nothing in a few days. Until then,” He looked back into the burning wood, “I guess we will just have to outlast his vengeful mood.”

Chapter Text

That little swim in the river seemed to have cooled Candy Apple Cookie’s nerves. Black Sapphire, the opposite — he was fumbling with his mic to ensure it wasn’t broken the entire journey through the Ghost Yeast Forest.

When he’d confirmed it hadn’t suffered water damage, he immediately began to narrate the sights for his audience.

“And there are trees…! Everywhere! How unfortunately unspectacular. Have you heard the myth of the evil fairy outcast?”

“Ooo, what rumour?” Candy Apple squealed.

“Well, they say deep in the forest there lives a fairy who was Banished, betrayed - deceived! She and a friend were closer than close, practically inseparable. That was, until a great calamity happened, but when she went to get help from her friend, not only had she been revealed as a backstabber, but allegedly had gotten all their other friends - and the king - to turn against her! She spent the rest of her life in miserable isolation.”

Candy Apple clapped at his story, but Shadow Milk cookie clutched the heavy wet layers of his skirt with enough force to wring the water out all over again. “Wow Black Sapphire, wonderful allegory, truly I wonder how that could be about.” 

“Oh, I would never! It’s just a rumour, after all; and one can never trust everything they hear!”

Shadow Milk stopped in his tracks. Wait, that story doesn’t even sound close to what happened between me and pure vanilla, but… 

He looked back at Black Sapphire, who was chatting to Candy Apple about the details, making up new plot lines from that short tale. Most of those plot lines sounded nonsensical, like nothing that could really happen on earth bread. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Ugh, nevermind.

The chirping of a bird set their attention to their surroundings. The trees grew with vines and the plants looked more iridescent, as if enchanted or dusted with magic.

No way in the Oven.

He took off running despite the weight of his clothes and came out to the monument outside the fairy palace.

“Ah, the Silver Kingdom!” He said, a smile finally spreading on his face. “How naive of them to leave their gates open like this.”

“Hmm, almost Too easy.” Black Sapphire pointed out, “Must be a catch.”

“Boooo, who cares about the danger, this is our chance!” Candy Apple turned back to Shadow Milk, “Say we’ll go in, please please please!!”

“Watch it, Brat!” Black sapphire grabbed her arms to hold her back, “The fairies can smell deceit from a mile away, there’s no way they’d let us pass unless we had disguises — and in case you can’t read the room, we don’t.”

“Enough!” Shadow milk said finally, “We’re not going inside.” 

His servants exchanged a glance. Guess they weren’t expecting him to say it out loud. 

“What’s that look for?! That stupid new fairy guardian might be at home, and look! No guards. I could make a less obvious trap with all my eyes closed.” He crossed his arms, “I mean, I could easily defeat that little pest, Not saying I can’t of course—“

“You sound scared.” Black Sapphire said, evidently on impulse.

Shadow milk bristled and whipped around to face him, “HOW dare you!” He yanked his servant in by the collar, “Listen to me. The word you’re looking for is Cautious. I don’t get scared, Sapphire. I’m a Beast cookie. Say such blasphemy again and I’ll show you both how easy it is to spread your crumbly remains into the winds of the Spice Desert. Understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“What was that?”

“Yes master Shadow Milk Cookie.”

He let go and black sapphire dropped to his knees. “Psh. Whatever. Did that little outcast fairy have a cave we could crash in?”

Whether it belonged to a fairy or a travelling cookie who forgot to clean up, they found a campfire and tent and chose to settle there for the night. Black Sapphire had used the sparks of his microphone to start the fire and tell Candy Apple ghost stories while shadow milk slinked off into the darkness. 

Initially he’d intended to take time out to collect his thoughts and make a new plan, but finally being in the quiet made his limbs give out and the sobs were quick to follow — He laid on his side gasping like he was choking, since there were no tears, but the heartbeat was the same. Skittering, heavy, like ascending a never ending staircase. 

He pressed hand to his soul jam. It didn’t do anything to help. Gah! Stupid habits, where’d he even learn that from?

Oh. Damn the witches, that was something Pure Vanilla used to do, wasn’t it? He screamed into a bush and unpinned the soul jam from his chest. At least it wasn’t being tainted by Truth like the other one had been tainted by deceit. 

I’ll get my strength back. Then I’ll catch him.

Something stirred within the soul jam as if responding. A shred of evidence to their newfound eternal connection. No, not newfound, just mutual now that Pure Vanilla had seized control of the other realm. Was his ability to control it going to be a problem?

Sigh. 

Maybe a nap would make the headaches stop.

When he returned to camp, he was too disoriented by exhaustion to notice the twigs his servants had pointed out in his hair. He reached into the shadowy depths and sure enough, there was one poking into one of the eyes. He pulled it out with a wince and crashed under the tent. “Don’t wake me up until morning.”

Neither said anything, and kept their volume much lower now. From the brief glimpses of their guilty faces, he could tell at least one of their conversations tonight had been about Him. Let them talk! They could never understand him. Nobody could.

Blueberry milk cookie?

Blueberry milk cookie!

“What?” He shook his head to clear the dizziness, “Who’s talking to me right now?”

A light in the distance caught his eye. It was the glow of pure vanilla’s staff. From the haze of darkness he emerged, decked yet again in those dark robes. 

“Oh, there you are! I was getting worried that I’d lost you.” Pure vanilla smiled and it looked wrong in this outfit, too bright. “I was hoping you might stay a little while, continue our talks?”

“No. No!” He scrambled backwards. “I don’t ever want to see you again!” He held his staff up, “Stay away from me, you traitor!”

But pure vanilla merely looked at the staff and continued to step forward. “A pity to see you’ve fallen so far. No matter, it is only inevitable that you will climb back up; we are one and the same, aren’t we? A part of us lives in the other forever, that’s what you ordained.”

Ordained. 

What was he talking about?

“You will hide from me, Blueberry milk cookie. You will try to avoid seeing what is right in front to you, for Fear that is not what you were promised. Oh, I’m sorry,” he blinked, “Blueberry milk isn’t even your name, is it?”

“No. Who is that?”

Pure vanilla shrugged, “You might find out one day. Until then, Old Friend…” gravity seemed to shift, and his head spun around again. He realized far too late that the soul jam pinned to pure vanilla’s chest was pitch black. “There is a balance that must be kept. You may wake up and find truth to be once again to your liking, but know that if one ideal falls too far forward, the other must move in tandem. Alas, the resulting consequence of denyng this reality will leave you a shell of yourself. But you wouldn’t defy the boundaries of fate again, would you?”

Chapter Text

Morning light spread over the kingdom grounds, and Pure Vanilla Cookie longed more than anything to be reunited with his flowers. What he had instead was a beautiful celebration of homecoming to attend, and about three hours before he was supposed to attend it.

Thankfully, he’d hired someone to tend to the greenhouse and various plants around his kingdom before he set off for beast yeast, for the thought of them wilting away from neglect was too horrible to bear.

The white lilies he’d kept in a special room were still looking as lively as he’d left them.

And speaking of white lilies, he checked the royal mail box and picked out the most important letters - those coming from his fellow ancients.

White Lily Cookie had yet to pen a response, meaning she could likely still be battling the beasts of silence, but he’d received a letter from each ancient regarding either that they’d agreed to help fight the beasts or that they’d already succeeded. Golden Cheese Cookie was transporting some of the spice kingdom’s inhabitants to her own kingdom. Dark Cacao Cookie had sent for his healing in light of a spreading disease, and then written a response that was dated to have arrived the same day stating that the illness was gone upon his return from the pagoda of apathy. Hollyberry had yet to say anything.

He found an opportunity between audiences with various important cookies to return to his bedroom with a nice hot cup of tea. The flowers at his window looked brighter than they’d been before he left. Perhaps it was the reawakening of the light of truth that provided a new vitality to his kingdom. And perhaps that also had to do with the fact he felt ready to rule the kingdom again - of course, he was merely the main politician in the place, as the vanilla kingdom would still remain ultimately in the hands of its subjects; that promise he would never betray. After all, how could any single cookie possibly be the representative of all truths existing in the world?

Yes, that was one thing his counterpart had gotten right; multiple truths could exist at any one time, as could multiple lies, some of which may not be lies at all. It did not mean the whole world was a falsehood, but rather that what made up ultimate truth was more subjective than he first thought.

And that would be alright.

Truth was a transient thing, and its ever changing nature lended it so much more beauty.

A knock at the door stopped his thoughts. A servant opened the door with a deep bow. “Your majesty, a message from Kingdom Hollyberry.” The servant popped the letter on his desk and fled the room.

He sat down to read it; penned by Hollyberry Cookie herself.

“Dear Pure Vanilla Cookie

It feels like an eternity since we last spoke. Though perhaps it was just my imagination, as I had been trapped in eternal slumber for so long.

Your letter of warning held no exaggeration; these beasts are stronger than I could ever imagine, more dangerous than any other force we’ve ever reckoned with.

I nearly lost all my hope fighting the beast of sloth. But it was my memories of all my friends, and you, that got me to pick up my shield and fight the damn thing.

I’ll be holding a banquet for the following weekend from when you receive this letter, I would be honoured if you could attend to celebrate with me.

Come visit if you have the chance,

Hollyberry Cookie.”

Yes, how wonderful! He began drafting up a response as soon as he’d finished reading it. Then he fell onto his bed and thought about how long it had been since he’d attended a Hollyberry celebration. It felt like months, but it must’ve been shorter than that - time dilation in the spire had made it feel so much longer than it really was.

His eyes began to shut by themselves and he waited for his mind to shut off too. Where had Shadow Milk Cookie gone, now that he had a moment to rest? Would he see that beast in his dreams again like he had every night in the spire of deceit?

No, he was just being over-cautious. The light of truth wasn’t fail-proof, but nothing was expected to haunt him for a while, and hopefully the peace times would last at least until next Monday; after all, he had a party to attend.

When he finally came back from his nap, his tea was comfortably cooled and there was voices outside his door. Oh, right, diplomacy. How exhausting, perhaps he needed to hire a standin for that too. Ah, but then he would miss the satisfaction of compromise. Nobody else had both the brains and the patience to come to a peaceful decision with the countries this kingdom had narrowly avoided war with… which was nearly all of them.

He checked his hair in the mirror and saw his eye-bags had gotten worse again. Right! Early bedtime and late morning. He needed to catch up on as much rest as possible now that he had people who needed his help again.

Suppose, someday, he Could find someone with enough brains and shockingly enough patience to be his diplomat. But that would take a very, Very long time. He could even hear the sound of it in his head. “Aww, thanks Nilly!  I’m glad you respect my intelligence enough to consider me for the most boring job your kingdom could have to offer!”

“Ah well. I like to think of it as an advanced attempt at making new friends. That might benefit you, no offense.”

The silence sang out to him and placed more focus on the voices outside his door. No point in dwelling; He reached for the door and finally faced those voices.

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk Cookie awoke to a headache, midday lighting and the smell of jellybeans being toasted.

The sweetness of the smell made him nauseous on top of being sore, and he knew if he crawled out there he was going to see Candy Apple Cookie trying her best to cook for the three of them.

They never needed food in the spire, seeing as time never Really passed, and therefore hunger was nothing more than a sate of being, a mindset to grow out of. But now it was physical ache, and it was going to difficult to keep it at bay if they didn’t eat soon.

Eventually he was going to have to get out and show himself to the world, pretend everything was fine for the sake of his servants; if they saw any further cracks in his facade of impenetrability, they might go on to believe his power was diminishing too. And the last thing he needed was to have the only loyal cookies he knew go off on their own in the big wide world they’d yet to comprehend. Though Black Sapphire would likely be alright; it was just field work to him.

“Are you sure this is safe?” He heard Black Sapphire asking at exactly the same moment.

“Nope! But it will be delish!”

“…Ehh-I doubt that.”

Sigh!

“Well well well! Look whose time as a fairy taught her something new after all!”

He floated through the air and held back a gag as he pretended to enthusiastically sniff the… concoction brewing in the pot over the fire.

“Ah, Master,” Black Sapphire stood up just to bow at him, “You have been asleep for a few days now. I was nearly going to pronounce you dead.”

Few?

“Don’t say it like that! It’s been like, two or three?” Candy Apple shrugged, “We were doing just fine on our own.”

Black Sapphire scoffed, “‘Fine,’ as in, I’ve had to endure your awful attempts at stew every morning for three days in a row now, which I am sure Master Shadow Milk would rather fall back asleep than try Himself.”

“Hey! That’s not true at all!” Then she turned to him with big puppy eyes, “Right?”

“Eh, whatever makes you add more seasoning. I! Have a new idea.” He twisted so he could land on the ground, balancing one on foot, “I’m going to get revenge on those little gnats, and I’m going to start by Destroying their kingdoms…”

Candy Apple Cookie looked delighted to hear the new plan, but Black Sapphire seemed like he was waiting for a reason to protest. “Well? Don’t you want to hear it?”

He’d thought about it in between his hours of resting and laying silently staring at nothing in particular; from the moon to the trees to the dying fire.

The flames had reminded him of a dear… colleague, Burning Spice Cookie. And although they didn’t have the best relationship, he knew that in order to exact his revenge on Pure Vanilla Cookie, some physical destruction was in order. And who better to recruit as a helper than the beast of destruction himself?

And along with that, his deceit wouldn’t work to bring the kingdom down unless Pure Vanilla was taken completely off guard; something he had learned was far more difficult than it sounded. Especially with his awakened sense of truth and the tether that bound them.

He’d need someone Pure Vanilla Cookie could not see coming, objectively.

“We need a plan that no heroes could ever see coming. Something they couldn’t not defeat without immediate action; we need another beast on the table.”

Candy Apple gasped, “Ohooo? Another beast? Heheheh, that will be so fun!”

“Shouldn’t you be stirring?”

Shadow Milk Cookie watched for Black Sapphire’s reaction, but he still seemed to be caught up in brooding silence, so with no further objections he revealed his plan, “Let’s go fetch Burning Spice Cookie and get this party s-“

“Burning Spice Cookie?!” Black Sapphire said at last, “as in, the Great Destroyer? THE Great Destroyer?”

“Yup, The exact one. Why, scared of a bit of spice?”

“No! It’s just- master, you must be playing a joke! We can’t just recruit The!!!!!! Burning Spice Cookie!!!”

“Oho, How come?”

Candy Apple pouted her lips as she continued to stir. Clearly she wasn’t happy about being kicked out of the conversation, “That guy has a reputation for being a big meanie. My syrups will melt in that wasteland!”

“Aaaaand that attitude is exactly why we need him on our team!”

Shadow Milk Cookie dipped his finger into the concoction to test its flavour and held back a gag. “Anyway, all the other beasts represent some kinda doohickey about embracing apathy or sloth or... like, I don’t even remember what Silence represents. Doesn’t matter, won’t help. Besides, some good old fashioned Ruin is exactly what we need in order to get revenge on Pure Vanilla Cookie!”

His servants exchanged a glance which only they could understand. Oh god, they were talking about this yesterday, huh?

“Master… there’s been something we’ve been meaning to ask…”

“HE was meaning to ask.” Candy Apple interrupted, “Don’t bring me into your stupid plans.”

Black Sapphire shot her a glare and then carried on, “I was wondering what Pure Vanilla Cookie did to you, that made you so upset. It was quite unclear because it all happened so fast… What happened?”

His first thought was that What Happened should’ve been obvious - He and Pure Vanilla had fused their soul jams, Pure Vanilla took control of his other realm and then he’d brought his friends back from the dead to defeat him once and for all. But from the nervous fidgeting Black Sapphire was doing with his hands, he likely knew it already, and therefore he wasn’t asking this question literally.

“Am I being asked to share personal details? By my own employees?” He turned his nose up, “Oh! I gave you two so much privacy in the spire, don’t I get to have that favour returned to me?”

“Yes, Master. But we’re not in the spire right now…”

“Well, all you have to know is Pure Vanilla Cookie is a liar, a cheater and backstabbing fool. Everything else is just following orders.”

And he might’ve floated away if Black Sapphire Cookie didn’t put his entire life on the line and say, “I see it now… You put your trust in him, didn’t you?”

All the eyes in his hair shivered awake at the sound of the word “Trust.”

“You… don’t have a right to ask me that question. Do it again and I’ll make good on that threat about throwing your crumbs into the storm.”

Black Sapphire held his gaze. “But it’s true.”

They stayed in the staring competition for whatever length it took Candy Apple Cookie to finish her jellybean stew - still smelling terrible - and shove a bowl between them.

“Ahem, first come first serve, cookies!”

Shadow Milk took the bowl and broke the contest, allowing Black Sapphire the momentary pride of having won the battle.

Now he was just going to have to eat this whole… potion, that his minion had concocted.

I’ll just barf it up in the desert when no one is looking.

Meanwhile Candy Apple started going on and on about what it was like to be a fairy, trick the little fairies, anything expect the conversations they needed to be having.

It was if she hadn’t been listening at all.

But he knew her better than that, she was just trying to protect Black Sapphire. As low as he thought their relationship was, mortal cookies were bound to want to make friends, no matter what situation they were in - and in the spire it was commonly life or death, which seemed only to exacerbate the problem. Give two cookies that hate each other a choice between getting out alive or letting their hatred consume them to the end, it usually ended in some stupid idea of friendship or noble sacrifice.

He despised stories where that happened.

Oh come on, Salty! Turn that frown upside down! It’s Us, we made it through so much together. We’re stronger than a couple of forks!

…

Hahaha, Oh, you’re funny! Thinking of leaving me here, to be bested by those pathetic witches! Good one, Salty, I miss when you used to crack jokes.

…

Why are you being so quiet,  you didn’t cause this, did you? Tell me you’re not responsible for this.

…

Is this about what I did to Mystic Flour cookie? Come on, she would’ve turned into dust if I didn’t— So What If The Temple Got Destroyed? It was the only way we had, Salt! And wasn’t it fun, at least a little bit? I bet it felt great, smashing all those fragile little cookies into dust. No? Not fun? Damn it, Say something!

…
 

No. No No! Get away from me, You little insect! Grahhhh! This is all your fault, Salty. Now look where we’re headed,  all because of your… Selfish, Cruel, Delusional—!

“Master, are you alright? You look… like you’re going to have a psychotic break anytime now…?”

He composed himself and wiped away the tears streaming down his cheeks in neat streaks. “Just remembering how Pure Vanilla betrayed me.. it’s nothing.” He set the empty bowl aside and got back in the air, “Come on, let’s just go already.”

Eventually they found their way back to the Fairy Kingdom, keeping up disguises and approaching the big tree.

“Master… this is so risky… why are we here?”

“To check, there’s someone… Nope.” The tree was still as it looked when White Lily Cookie had sealed it. No signs of Eternal Sugar Cookie. “Just making sure a certain other old friend of mine wasn’t still sleeping in the tree. We can go now-“

“Not so fast!” Oh for witches’ sake! Silver Guards were surrounding the tree. “Who are you, what business do you have in the Fairy Kingdom?!”

Shadow Milk Cookie was already procuring a portal to the spice realm before Black Sapphire opened his mouth to start spewing Witches-know-what kind of story.

“Oh, I simply came here to deliver a message - these other two are-“

“Getting out of here and taking You with us!” He pulled Black Sapphire through the portal and closed it behind the three of them before anyone’s spear could even be raised.

The temperature was starkly different - excruciatingly hot and the sand smelling so overwhelming didn’t help anything.

“Help! I think I got some in my eyes!” Candy Apple complained.

“Don’t touch your eyes- No you brat! I said Don’t!” Black Sapphire wrestled her hands away from her face and pulled her eyes open. “No spice in them, You’re probably just trying to make trouble.” He pushed away from her, “Little brat. Don’t lie like that again.” He looked pissed, but the tone of his voice was more like scolding a child for their dangerous behaviour than actual anger.

Shadow Milk floated between the pair. “Speaking of not lying - Ironic, for us huh? - WHAT IN THE NAME OF SOUL JAM WAS THAT?”

“I was just planting seeds for a new plot line. My viewers would appreciate it, you guys wouldn’t get it until later though.”

“Stop acting like you can see the future, Sapphire. That could’ve gotten you speared through the mouth.”

Black Sapphire looked around at the red horizons. “It’s not too late for that, master. Where is the Great Destroyer?”

Uhhh… he looked around. They were in front of a bunch of ruins that he recognised to be the destroyer’s temple. Did his ancient counterpart destroy his house? That little…

“Well, clearly he’s either dead or hiding out with one of the wild spice tribes. Shame! Here I was thinking he was indestructible - even though that’s exactly what he shouldn’t be! Ah, I love when someone’s ideal gets twisted and twisted until it becomes their end.” All three of them probably thought of the exact same thing, but none of them said it out loud. “Anyway! Looks like we just need to… find him.”

“Lure him out with a rumor, perhaps?”

“Oooh, are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?” Candy Apple Cookie squealed, “Shout out lies! Until the Great Destroyer hears and we get an audience with him! That’s so dangerous, Saffy Taffy, I would never imagine you to take such a risk!”

“Saffy taffy…?”

“That’s a stupid idea… Wait! No! You’re right, Saffy! Maybe we Can lure him out with a rumor…. Ugh! I love having servants that are just as smart as me. Come on team, off we go to spread some of our favourite currency!”

The span of the desert was actually a lot wider than he remembered, a possible testament to how far Burning Spice Cookie had spread his kingdom of destruction.

Nothing would progress unless they found some kind of village and asked the locals for directions, so they settled on traversing what Shadow Milk Cookie swore was south, since descending the dunes would lead them to a village he recalled being there when he last visited. Although knowing Spice, it wasn’t likely anything was still standing after his return.

To keep his minions’ minds busy, he and Black Sapphire began their work on what rumor to spread, with Candy Apple Cookie pitching new ideas every now and again and Black Sapphire Cookie trying to ignore her; but some of her idea could actually work if the circumstances were perfectly in place - most of the time they weren’t.

Somehow this conversation lead him down a rabbit hole about Burning Spice Cookie’s learning style, how he once tried to teach the Great Destroyer about Biodiversity. For someone who lived in a desert, this concept was shockingly hard to grasp. “I mean, just look at that… collection of plants right there! See how it’s not all just dead bushes and cacti?”

“I’m pretty sure it is…”

“Quiet, Sapphire, I’m trying to use an immediate example. Anyways! Look at the way it has a bunch of plants around it - they all work off one another, and if one dies the other will slowly wilt away until all that’s left is sticks and sand. That’s what I tried to tell him, but he just kept asking if everything was flammable. I mean, HELLO? You live in the hottest climate there is on beast yeast, I said “If it’s not on fire now, it PROBABLY won’t be later!” Ugh!” He ripped the dead bush clean out of the ground and threw it into the wind, “Stupid warmongers. That’s why I only let wars happen when the people in charge are smart, it’ll kill the dumb people and then I won’t have to teach their citizens basic science.”

A blatant lie, since he loved teaching. Or, used to. Now he would likely only find it frustrating to see how little the cookies of the present day actually knew. A tiny drop in his limitless ocean.

No matter. War strategy was still a subject he had a unit for, though a lot of the time he felt it useless: he’d either be teaching an idiot who didn’t care to know better or speaking with someone that had field experience. The rest didn’t need to be taught. In fact, it was more time-worthy to teach medicine, since that had a use all year round. It was amazing that he couldn’t remember ever having strategically led a country to its downfall by removing the doctor. It was such a great idea, after all.

Ahem. What?

“Saffyyyyy, my eyes are actually burning now! It’s soooooo hot!”

“I know, I feel it too brat. Master, is it just me, or is the air getting… hotter?”

“If you mean in terms of temperature? No. But… ah-Achoo! Oh for witches sake…” Was this because he’d ripped the foliage? Or was Burning Spice Cookie finally listening?

“Okay, so maybe you two don’t know this because you’ve never been, but I might’ve just woken up the ancestors of all the people that live here.”

“You WHAT?” Candy Apple squealed, “Master, tell us you’re joking.”

“Nope, not this time! Get your eye protection ready, it’s going to burn a lot.” He held his staff out infront of him and conjured a bubble around himself. At least that was still possible; though his soul jam seemed to reject his request to make it bigger to engulf his servants. “Saffyyyyy! Little issue, get over here!”

His servants appeared and Black Sapphire put a hand around Shadow Milk’s sceptre while shaking the microphone. “Ahem, testing, testing, One two three?”

The bubble grew larger as he tested the microphone, big enough to engulf all three of them. “Oh, wonderful, thanks minion.” He began floating off and the bubble shrank as soon as Black Sapphire was no longer touching the sceptre.

“Wait, get back here! I’m trying to boost your power by using mine; which can only be done while on air, obviously.”

Sighhhh. “I’m not letting you hold my staff the entire journey to the village.”

“Eh…. Can you talk for as long as it takes for this storm to pass-? Achoo!” He sneezed three times into his elbow, “Technically this could work if you were holding the microphone, that way I wouldn’t need to hold your staff.”

He considered what he could talk about, and as his mind cycled through the ideas, a wolfish grin crept onto his face. “Hardly a question. Gimme.”

The storm had picked up so much that they could hardly see outside of their bubble. To keep them distracted from the situation, Shadow Milk Cookie scrambled to retell stories about his time before becoming a beast, all the embarrassing secrets he knew about Burning Spice Cookie.

Just like everyone else, he'd fallen for the charms of Eternal Sugar Cookie, and every time they talked, Shadow Milk would have to watch the beast grow soggy with nerves until he had to be dragged away because he wasn’t breathing right.

"Interesting."

"What is it now, Sapphire?"

"Nothing, just thinking about why you were always by her side to drag him away. You were Close, were you?"

"Pshh! Everyone was back then. If you hadn't kissed her on mouth by the time she'd had her fall, you were either a newborn or just unlucky." Back then, the Herald of Change had a more mature demeanour, and upon learning of Eternal Sugar’s Several lovers, he accepted that she was likely trying to trick him somehow, by pretending to allow his flustered behaviour to continue. A mix between her saccharine demeanor and perhaps the fact she didn't care; How he'd accepted her vile undercurrent of mischief, perhaps he'd been charmed too. Heh, that wasn't anything new. She was a flower in constant perfect bloom, preserved in the most delicate crystal case.

Just a little taste of her poison, and you'd never want to leave her paradise.

"Eh, so about Burning Spice?"

"Uh!" His body had gotten unfairly warmed from embarrassment. "Yeah, that guy! Anyway, he's not thAT good-looking anyhow, so he really didn't stand a chance."

"...Didn't you just say-?"

“I WASN'T JEALOUS!" He shouted out, "Sorry, I just needed to get that out of the way. My my, we've gotten so far from the original topic! Want to hear of the first encounter I Really had with the Great Destroyer?"

***

He was actually starting to get tired of travelling through the desert by the time he was reaching the end of his story. He’d greatly exaggerated it at the start, but as he got closer to the conclusion he’d decided the real thing was easier to talk about anyway. Well, as close to the real thing as possible without revealing anything Real about it. It’s not like they cared about it anyway, it was all just noise.

“And so, I told those kids, Everything is going to be fine. Just wait for the sun to rise, remember? And they just wouldn’t stop crying!” He bit his tongue before relaying the next bit, “So I started spinning the tales a bit differently. I decided, they’re already so scared, I might as well give them a dark story that ends with everyone dying! That way they’ll shut up, either because they’re scared or because they’re so consumed with getting to the end that they stay quiet!”

Candy Apple wore a nervous smile, “Did you actually do that?”

“Uh, they’re kids! I would Never!” Still he smiled just to rub it in that he was probably lying about that too, “Well, who knows, there’s no evidence of the town now! Who knows whether those kids’ parents were ever remembered by history!”

“Uh, master?”

“What, Sapphire? Did some light reading on the history of war?”

“No, it’s just,” He pointed to a place in the distance, a town enclosed in spice winds, “is that the village?”

Oh crumbs! “That would be it, yeah.” They floated off to investigate. Predictably it was also half destroyed, but the signs of civilization remained despite that. Namely, a pillar with the names and ages of some of its townspeople, some engravings still fresh enough that the spice in their cavities was able to be wiped away with a single swipe. Wow, that’s mighty on topic.

No name appeared twice, but surnames? Sometimes they’d appear consecutively, like whole families…being slaughtered.

This wasn’t simply a census for the town; it was a memorial site.

“Son of a witch…” he said to himself. Had Burning Spice returned to pillage this town again?

Well, that wasn’t his problem. All he needed was one living member in one of the houses with a general knowledge of recent events and they’d be on their way. He wouldn’t have to relive the horror he witnessed the last time; all the last times.

“Master, is something bothering you?”

He felt compelled to lie, to hide his feelings away and keep searching for signs of life. But looking around at the new destruction, all the things that had been built only to be destroyed again, like a wound ripped open, it tore at him. He landed on his feet in front of a faded mural of the Kulfi Clan reaching up to the pointy sun, the cracks coming from where they’d painted clouds to represent lightning. He felt his eyes sting and clutched to the microphone tighter. The bubble was shrinking, soon his servants would be caught in the crossfire.

“Master Shadow Milk! The storm is closing in!”

If it became clear how much seeing all this ruin affected him, they might…He turned to his servants whose faces were a mix of panic and anticipation for an explanation, “Let me tell you something I omitted from that story on purpose…” He raised the microphone and the bubble expanded again, “Burning Spice Cookie chooses to let them rebuild this village every so often because it used to be his favourite. The brightest, longest surviving. Untouchable. He hated the idea that his favoured dollhouse could be crumbled. Have you ever seen a shiny lollipop? A perfectly applied decoration to a cake?” He procured a caramel apple in his hands. “Look at it. You can see your reflection in the shine…” Then he hit the apple off the mural and it splattered syrup and apple flesh everywhere. “But eventually you have to bite in. A perfect creation cannot stay untouched forever. It has to be used, abused, damaged. Nothing perfect can ever exist in this world.”

“What are you saying…?”

“I’m saying,” He ripped a piece of the apple off the wall and popped it in his mouth, “That you could not Imagine the satisfaction he felt when he took his first bite.” He picked another piece off the wall. It tasted like salt and disgust. “And after the first, he’d logically take a second. The disappointment of taking the first lick and ruining the pristine shine; at first you’d want to preserve as much of perfection as possible, right? But after a certain amount of damage has been done, it’s not worth saving, and that’s when you let yourself fly loose; He went haywire on this town, killing thousands. That pillar had to be replaced; the first up to fourth pillars sit somewhere on the outskirts marking a space for all the remains of the cookies he’s let his Boredom out on over the years. If it weren’t for the greed of his followers, there might have been treasures there too.”

The storm grew stronger, and a voice called out to them, beckoning them inside. “My point is, little minions, nobody, and I mean Nobody, has ever stood up against him. Many have tried, but no matter how strong you build your castle, no matter how far off the ground your kingdom reigns, he’s going to find it. If he could push past his love for his own subjects, what makes you think he can’t push past his hatred for me?”

“Huh?”

“That’s why we need him on our side; He won’t stop until there’s nothing left. We might have our differences, but-“

“Revenge on Pure Vanilla Cookie isn’t going to bring you the satisfaction you think it will.”

All faces turned on Black Sapphire Cookie, who had somehow stolen the blueberry sceptre and was holding it up like he was about to close the bubble, “Apologies, I know we don’t like speaking truths here, but I have to say something.”

“Oho?”

“Whatever you’re planning to do with the Vanilla Kingdom, it is reckless, it is a betrayal of your values, and it is wholly worth none of the relief you think you’ll feel afterwards.” He held the staff steady, “You’ll only be responsible for more suffering.”

Candy Apple Cookie stepped away from him. “Why are you saying that nonsense, Saffy?”

“I can’t stand idly by while my master consumes himself in loathing. I stand by your side because the spreading of deceit fills me with glee. But I am not going to allow Burning Spice Cookie to take away my listeners just because you place more value in power than the lives of yourself and your servants, not to mention the strangers caught in the crossfires of war.”

“You think I don’t care?” The eyes in his hair twitched, “Give me the staff.”

Black Sapphire scowled. “No.”

“Give me the staff, Sapphire,” He held out his hand, beckoning him to hand the staff over. “Don’t make this difficult, you’ve been disobeying me since we got out of the spire.” He had no clue what he planned to do when he actually got the staff, since he didn’t have all the tricks of the spire with him today, but the world was vast; and the storm was a raging ocean.

But instead of obeying, Black Sapphire stepped further back and put a hand on Candy Apple’s shoulder. “If you think you can fight in your state, I won’t stop you; But I’m not letting you get us killed.”

“Saffy, wait!” She yelled before he closed the bubble and the whole world turned red. “Ow, Ow, Ow!!!! You big idiot, let go of me!”

“It’s not worth it!” And that’s the last he could hear of them before the raging wind muffled their voices. Mostly, he was trying to resist the pull and push of the wind, not to mention the burn.

“Oh, you little traitor!” His eyes stung again, and he knew it wasn’t just spice this time, “You Disobedient Rat! I’ll crumble you!”

His shoulder hit the wall and he screamed.

And then the wind carried all the other noise and he was alone again.

Chapter Text

A long, long time ago, Change and Knowledge used to go hand in hand. History was knowledge, and the Herald of Change did a good job with watching the civilisations grow and falter. He kept track of it, and fought to protect it. The Fount made sure to credit his Knowledge wherever he felt due. After all, if not for him, the maps would not be so consistently updated.

If not for him, the maps would not Have to be so consistently updated.

“Wise Fount, are we going to be alright?”

The Fount of Knowledge patted the cookie’s cheek. “Of course you will, what else is there to be but alright?”

“Sounds really scary out there…so loud.” Another boom sounded in the distance.

He wouldn’t admit it himself, but he was also a bit scared of the reality outside. But these children could not simply spend their lives wondering at the truth, so he did as he was duty bound to do; tell them what was going on, for better or for worse.

Of course, the little minds of children would hardly understand what was really happening. But being a teacher was his best quality, and of course he would know how to change the information to make it more digestible for their small understanding. 

In the form of a fairy tale, he told the story of a vicious king who’d turned into a dragon, travelling now to overtake as many towns and destroy them as he could. He could’ve done without the dragon, but it was more work to explain that the king had been a prince once too, young and ambitious to build an everlasting society with its happily ever after. Besides, the children seemed happy enough with the explanation. Some even asked questions, such as why the dragon was so angry. 

For that, he could not answer; what had pushed Burning Spice cookie to become who he did? It was a sort of ego death; he had pushed himself beyond the boundaries of his own morals, his principles. Not even his own life held value to him anymore; and eventually the rest of them would follow in his footsteps. He started the fire; and he left his companions to burn.

“Ah, Fount of Knowledge! Long time no see, what brings you to this humble bonfire?”

“I came here because I made a commitment to the maps, Spice. You’re making my job a lot harder by constantly changing them.”

“You don’t have to.” The Great Destroyer brandished his axe, “why do you bother to protect the little ones? They’re only going to turn away from your knowledge one day.”

“If they ever do, it’s not my fault if they face the consequences. I had to tell them what was happening.”

“Hah! How are your friends on the academy? I’m sure they would hate to see what you have become.”

“What I’ve become? What I’VE become? How could you!” He threw his hands out in front of him, “What about you? You put so much work into growing this civilisation! You might think I’ve become a coward just because I don’t want to fight, but I’ll have you know I never wanted this!”

“If you’re so worried about your precious knowledge being tainted, why not try to stop me yourself?”

“It’s not my job to change the world, only to document it the way it is. To know everything is to understand that decay is only natural; but what you’re doing is beyond it, and I urge you to stop.”

The Great Destroyer held his axe ready for a fight. “Make me.”

“I’m a scholar, not a warrior. If you want a fight, you’ll have to look elsewhere; or I can teach the coming generation the tactics of war, and you can count on vengeance being served.”

The Great Destroyer barked out a laugh. “You? Fighting? Now that would cure my boredom! Heed my words, scholar; one day you will also find yourself consumed by darkness; be it boredom or loneliness. If I am still alive when that happens, I promise I will burn that precious academy of yours to the ground; And you’re going to watch me do it with a smile.”

“You wouldn’t DARE!” Something broke and he launched himself headfirst into the fight. “You will Never touch that place, if I have to put my entire life on the line to protect it! I will destroy you!”

The storm engulfed the rest of that memory, but searing heat blazed his eyes till his vision was nothing and his mouth was stinging with pain; and so was everything else.

Alone alone alone.

What had anybody done to deserve this kind of punishment?

Chapter Text

As terrible as danger was, there was at least some amount of excitement within it. Diplomacy on the other hand felt like trying to heal a wound you didn’t know the location of. The meetings he had would stretch out into infinity, and for once he began to envy his stomach for having the grace of being hungry. Instead of indulging in how it felt to go empty, he longed for some kind of sustenance to alleviate how much it hurt.

He managed to find time between one meeting and the next to dip into the kitchen and eat an entire bag of the first grain cereal he could chew on. Not the best option but whatever kept him full for now. He searched for some kind of topping and found honey. Honey and granola. Goodness, he needed chocolate!

A servants found him sprinkling chocolate chips into a bowl of cereal and looking completely unashamed of himself as he gouged himself on it. He should’ve used a plate, as he’d practically forgone the spoon and started eating out of it with his hands, pouring a little in his palm and shoving it down like it was medicine. 

“Eh sir, if you’re hungry, we can make fillets…”

“Yes, thank you, I’m going to eat this is over a bin to save you cleaning this up.” He said quickly.

Eventually he finished the bowl, threw a cup of water down his throat like he was shooting berry juice and ran back to the hall of audiences. And as he did so, something odd happened. A ringing, pulsing sensation coming from the brooch on his robes - a message from his soul jam.

He put his hand to it, expecting the light of truth to tell him again about how he really ought to slow down and let others do their waiting. But instead he saw glimpses of red and a lingering pit at the bottom of… not his stomach, but it felt that way for a moment. 

Was someone in trouble? Just outside the heavy double doors he had the chance to sigh to himself. 

The crème republic had given them so much cleaning up, what with his return from beast yeast and the constant renovation ideas. Could the saving not wait just a little longer?

***

“As we were discussing, Pure Vanilla,” said the diplomat, “you and your friends’ journey to beast yeast-“

“Already writing the report,” he lied. “As usual, business here is steady, nobody has threatened to kill us and the threats of the beasts are neutralizing for Now. Anything else?”

“No, that’s it.”

“Great. I am having a panic attack, see you later.” He had no reason to mention it, only that it had been five minutes and the feelings and the ringing and the pit in his stomach had only gotten worse, and now he cursed himself for eating the chocolate; he was going to throw it all up again! What a waste of such nice chocolate. 

He found a quiet space he knew nobody could disturb him, the gardens, and touched his soul jam once more. He sat by the carnations and searched inside the power of truth for that little nugget of deceitfulness, that tie he had to the other half of Knowledge.

He found it waiting for him like an unopened parcel. He grabbed for it and his body stretched and compressed into everything and nothing until his eyes cleared and there was red wind surrounding him and what he supposed was scalding hot sand he couldn’t feel touching his legs. He summoned the staff and used its light to cast a bubble around himself.

He made sure to listen out for any sounds of yelling or screaming. Though he couldn’t feel the spice, he imagined it would hurt a lot to be caught in the eye with it. 

So, when he heard a wailing noise, he wondered if his ears were deceiving him or… perhaps it was deceit itself that fell upon his senses.

His light grew brighter from his staff as it neared a wall with a faded mural, obscured by the sand and spice and ash. It depicted its citizens bowing down to a Sun god, majestic and overpowering. The heat of his rays seemed to burn the foliage and lightning had been painted where cracks had formed in the wall. Though most of it was covered in the winds’ various spices, there were clear handprints that got heavier as if the cookie who’d left them was faltering with each step it took.

He followed the handprints and the wailing grew louder, and with it his light brighter. He allowed for more space to be made within his bubble. Now he could more clearly see that Destruction had befallen this city, or what was once a city. It must’ve meant a lot to those who built it, for he could see through his staff, the sorrow of all those cookies and non-cookies left behind in the wake of its demise. And more potently, the despair of the cookie that remained, sitting in a nook to hide away from the storm, still blue as ever despite the amount of red all over him. 

There was excessive amounts of red spice clinging to his lashes, and tear tracks cleared a path down his face where the blue of his dough was still fully visible in contrast with it.

Pure Vanilla was nearly afraid to come in closer, feeling that he was intruding on whatever had caused this. But the eye of his staff just kept digging into that pain, the stomach turning anger at a new betrayal. He knew it would be wrong to leave the poor beast in this state. After all, he could not simply go back to the vanilla kingdom, knowing how deep this anguish went; Even if he had yet to understand its source.

Shadow Milk cookie was clawing at his eyes to get the spice out, only serving to make it worse. 

“Do you want help with that?” Pure Vanilla asked, perhaps lost to the wind as he got no reaction.

He approached the beast who had stopped screaming by this rate, and was instead hyperventilating and trying to wipe his hands off of everything; his collar, his knees, the walls. Everything was covered in more spice than his hands. He tried using his sleeves, which worked for the excess spice, but there still more in his eyes searing his vision.

The light of his staff finally reached the beast and he called out again. “Shadow Milk cookie…”

“Ugh.” He squeezed his eyes shut, perhaps to summon more tears, “Shut it. I dont need You on top of all of this.” He sneezed and there was even red on his teeth. “First my servants leave me defenceless, now you wanna show me a hallucination of Him? You play such cruel jokes, you know that?” Fresh tears came down and he sobbed again. He pulled at the case for his soul jam. Little claw marks scratched down, disappearing as soon as they came. “Stop this or I’ll tear you and your stupid hallucinations apart.” 

“I’m not a hallucination, dear. I’m real.” He reached down to touch the beast, and his hand went right through. “Oh. Well, maybe then I am a hallucination.”

“Wait- wait.” He yanked Pure Vanillas hand back and put it on his face. The eyes in his hair opened and their pupils all pointed to look at him. “Oh...that’s just peachy, isn’t it?”

Pure Vanilla frowned as he felt the hatred seep through their connection. “I’m sorry.”

“Cheese, whatever. It literally cannot get worse than this.” He tried to grab Pure Vanilla and predictably he was only grabbing air. “Keep your hands on my face, it makes the pain go away.”

If this was his reaction to knowing Pure Vanilla had traversed their connection, he must’ve been expecting it to happen - although maybe not so soon. That could only mean that he was previously talking to himself - his soul jam.

“I didn’t know the light of deceit talked to you too.”

Shadow Milk grabbed his other hand and put it over his lighter blue eye. “It doesn’t talk. It whispers. Why do you think I change my mind so much? I hated it as much as you did once.”

Hearing Shadow Milk cookie speak so openly about such matters surprised him.

Still, it made sense. He did say once that it whispers many truths - and many lies. If the soul jam of knowledge began to whisper lies to drive him mad, perhaps it was no wonder he fell from grace so fast. 

“You’re only seeing a piece of the puzzle. Don’t you dare claim any understanding.” He wiped the spice from his eyes more efficiently and their colours had become tainted by red. “What are you even doing here, can’t you see I’m busy?”

“So was I. Your soul jam’s ringing of despair was giving me heart palpitations. I had to do something.”

To this Shadow Milk cookie laughed and growled like he was trying to cover for how weak his voice was. “Oh, so you just wanted to shut me up? Very You, Vanilly.”

Was he ever going to let go of that idea? “I was concerned. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Not particularly. You and your fragile heart. It’s only been a day and you’re already lost without me, hmm?”

“Depending on how we’re measuring Lost, I’d say you’re… eh, winning.”

Shadow Milk’s hair rolled its eyes and he buried his face in his palms. Quietly, the sobs returned. The pull of the soul jam said he needed some kind of comfort, but Pure Vanilla knew him well enough to know he’d never ask for it - and might even outright reject it if he tried silently.

“Will you talk about it?” 

A stupid question, he could practically hear the sound of thoughts running through his head - figuratively. Shadow Milk cookie was someone who loved to talk about himself. He also loved attention, so sympathy couldn’t be too far off the mark, even if he hated it.

“What I want is for you to leave me wallow in my self pity while you go and have fun doing I-don’t-know-what in your peaceful little kingdom.”

Pure Vanilla chose instead to stay there and watch him cry. A shard of him still resented the beast for what he had put his friends through, no less himself. And yet amongst those shards of morbid satisfaction he could also feel his own heart fill with grief on behalf of the beast. What had he done to end up like this?

—

The small spark of enjoyment faded all too quickly, and all that remained was the dull ache of seeing a friend upset. “Can I do anything else?”

“Other than leave? No.”But after raising his eyes again seeing this Pure Vanilla had not budged from his place, he let out a deep sigh, “Fine. Your hands are cold when they pass through me. You should put one back on my eye - the one with the scar on it.”

Scar?

“I thought it was a tattoo?”

Shadow Milk snorted. “Well it is Now. But my original body had a scar there. Crown shaped, that was the inspiration.”

He kept his hand there, and Shadow Milk sighed and leaned into it. 

“If I am allowed to ask… how come you are so accepting of me? Last time we met, you were furious. I was under the impression that we were still enemies.”

“Always the questions - you should try guessing once in a while. You were so…whatever at guessing.” He tilted his head and snapped at Pure Vanilla’s arm, likely to calm the spice stuck between his teeth - how’d that get there anyway? “Those two kiddos ran away with my staff, which I needed to avert the sand out of my eyes. So  I shoved my face in a dune and screamed my heart out - and now everything burns and I’m getting dizzy. So basically, I’ve numbly accepted that fate is cruel and that you, Vanilly, are so much crueler. But what does it matter to you, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“To take care of you, maybe. I wasn’t expecting this.” He could see Shadow Milk’s eyes shift as he said that, as if being reminded of what was left unfinished between them left a sour taste in his mouth. “Oh don’t be upset please. If it makes you feel less singled out, you’re not the only one who I’ve asked to be friends with after a battle; And I didn’t expect it to work, I just thought it was worth a shot.”

That didn’t make it any better, seeing as with the proximity he had to the jam of deceit, he could feel the way it stung.

“You don’t have to remind me. I’d prefer if you never ask it of me again, and if I could make it so you never offered that compassion to anybody at all, I would.”

“So you’re jealous.” Now guilt twisted his insides. “Oh I see. Well I’m sorry, even though I’m not really sorry. If you wanted me so bad, you really could’ve just said so… I’m open to negotiating.”

“I don’t want you!” Despite the growing haze in his eyes, he looked scandalised. “I don’t like you, and if you appear to me again after today, I’m going to come over to that rundown little kingdom you hold so dear just to take you out myself.”

On one hand, he could judge his teasing to be a little far, even for him. But on the contrary, he quite enjoyed the look of embarrassment it incited. He came in closer to put his arms around Shadow Milk cookie: He could feel the heat of the spice burn into his skin, and the pulsating of Shadow Milk cookie’s soul jam. 

“Deal. I can’t promise you a satisfactory battle; I’m not a warrior, after all. But I can accept your offer of a duel. Just us, my kingdom, you may do whatever you wish to win. I’ll try not to hold back.”

For a moment nothing moved except for the wind. And then the feelings within the soul jam changed; Pride, a slithering condescension and the dull beat of familiarity. Almost like warmth if not for the tingles of mischief. 

“Heh, you know you will.” He put his face in the cold ghost air of Pure Vanilla’s apparition. “That’s why I’m going to win. That’s why I’m better than you.”

“Keep lying to yourself.”

“That’s why you’re here. You can’t help but let your kindness take priority over your own safety. You little fool, you.” His voice was layered like perfume. Even as he sounded defeated, an air of softness ran through it, as if he was finding this whole thing rather ridiculous instead of infuriating. Perhaps his own sadness amused him. Sweeping the whole thing like a tidal wave was the furrow in his brow. Like disbelief and absolute certainty both at once.

“Are you still angry at me for stealing your soul jam?” He realised how stupid it sounded, asking a mere day after the fact. But his own heart pulsed with the same rhythm to his beast counterpart, and he knew from its steadiness that regardless of the answer, both knew the real truth.

“Well duh! It takes a lot more than a hug to get my forgiveness, you know.”

“I know better than anybody.” Internally he sensed his time was running out. He decided it would be a good idea to end this rendezvous soon, as he still had his meetings to return to. But, he couldn’t simply leave the beast here… “Are your servants coming back? If not, I can-”

“Leave them be; worst case scenario, I’ll be here aaaaalllll day. Pretty sure Candy Apple will come looking for me eventually. Divine intervention wouldn’t keep her away.”

“…Best case scenario?”

“I get a heartfelt apology from the both of them and they let me turn them into tuna which I will then feed to the nutmeg clan as a bribe. Oh wait, I wasn’t supposed to mention that part, was I? Hm! Well you better not ask any questions, because I-Am-NOT! Going to answer!”

Pure Vanilla raised a brow and stood up. He didn’t really need to ask; context clues gave enough away as it was. “Well, I best get back to my “peaceful little kingdom duties.” Clotted crème cookie is unfortunately far less patient than I am, even if he pretends otherwise. I assume that the microphone I saw on the way belongs to you three. I put it against the mural.” And then he started walking away. “Give your servants my regards; really, they were rather entertaining in the spire.”

Shadow Milk picked up and inhaled the spice from the ground where Pure Vanilla’s knees had been and his eyes watered. “Heh, you really think so?”

“No.” He gave his most pleasant smile, “But for all my hours of sleep lost, I suppose I cannot resent them any more than I can resent myself for choosing to stay so near to the staircase. In an infinite world, there really is no reason to be so close to that which makes you burn; unless it is because the heat is comforting to oneself, which it was.”

He let the light of his staff engulf him and the red turned to green as he found himself sat amongst the carnations. Hopefully that servant would be trying to find him with the plate of fillets. He was starving. And to make matters worse, so was Shadow Milk cookie.

Chapter Text

It all started with the sweet, crunchy apple in his palm, a chunk of it now between his sharp toothed smile. Its juice dripped off his chin like blood, giving the effect of a wolf whose eyes appraised the little girl like she was his next meal. 

He had his other hand behind his head, as if lounging in an invisible - and floating - deck chair. 

“Well, that was fast.” Said a man in an extravagant purple suit standing next to him with an equally expensive looking microphone. “I was nearly expecting our contestant not to know how to swim. Can we get a round of applause for this girl? Beat the currents at such a young age!”

But the floating cookie next to him ignored his narration and tossed the apple sky high before taking a second bite, “Almost Too fast… Aren’t you thinking it should’ve been harder?”

“Eh, what?”

“Don’t, I’ve already got an answer for you!” He bit again to punctuate the sentence. Then he twisted around and came up closer to the young girl. A mix of fear and excitement bubbled in her chest. She could already see the stars around him, gleaming and glittering as he took her hand. 

“And that answer, my star pupil, is a question; How easy do you think it is to leave yourself behind?”

-

“Ow ow ow! Let go of me, Black Sapphire! I’m a big girl, I can make my own decisions!”

“And that decision you wish to make could get you crumbled, I’d rather not-“ he grunted as he yanked her stick, throwing her forward and leaving her to stumble inside a house. “-Let that happen to you.”

She glared around at their new shelter - decently lit by candles and a smell of heavy cream wafting through the air.

Flashes of memory came trickling in like raindrops. She would love for there to be raindrops in the desert.

Instead there was just searing hot burns in her eyes and the annoying smell of burnt sugar around her. Light footsteps approached and some old voice came from her left. 

“I worried you would not be coming inside, Fi. We are preparing the Laffi, do not worry.”

“Oh, my apologies, we’re only stepping in to get away from the storm.” Black Sapphire’s smooth voice was already beginning to twist a tale before the newcomer held up their hand - or it looked that way, but her vision was so blurred and stingy she could hardly say for sure. 

“This isn’t the first time we’ve had newcomers in our village. Golden Cheese cookie stopped by not so long ago. You might know her as the golden sovereign?”

Who now?

“Ah, you mean the holder of the soul jam of abundance. I have heard many things about her.” From the polite conversational tone, Black Sapphire was likely recalling some rather wretched things said by Shadow Milk cookie upon hearing the news of her capture - and escape from the great destroyer.

“Fi! We promised to help any other cookies that might get caught in the storm - after all, it won’t be long before this desert belongs to her.”

“Oh?”

The old voice sniffled, “so long has it been, this desert without a ruler, only for its violent winds to start up once again. We Kulfi have never been free of the oppressive forces against us. But after Golden Cheese cookie took the soul jam of destruction in her battle against the great destroyer-“ Oh No… “-She has been moving us lower spices to safer landscapes, and we in return are to help her rebuild the Golden Cheese kingdom.”

Candy Apple turned her head to look at Black Sapphire. He was looking back. “Yes. Eh-hem. About that… Lacci?”

“Laffi. Cream to clear the spice off your doughs. We started making a batch as soon as we heard the winds pick up.” The light footsteps faded into another room, and then returned with some kind of heavy metal contained which clunked as he placed it on the floor. “Careful, it might still be hot.”

Hot was better than searing. Candy Apple dunked her hands in and then spread it all over her face like it was face wash. She rubbed it into her eyes and winced. 

“You idiot. You’re only making it hurt worse.” 

“Shut up, Saffy! I don’t need your voice burning my ears too!” She was handed a cloth to wipe it all away, and when she opened her eyes, the blurry kitchen came back into view. She gaped at how many things hung from the ceiling. The Monkey, as she’d discovered it was, wiped the remaining spice off her dress. She was going to scream at him but Black Sapphire gave her a warning look as he dabbed his own cloth in the substance and cleaned his hair. 

This place smelled familiar, like the kitchen of someone from her broken past - a family friend, maybe? Running helplessly out into the streets, too afraid of the forests to go east, too angry at her sisters to go south, where she’d come from. The policemen found her and she told them Exactly what she knew. Then she saw the doorstep of a tall bronze woman. She stayed two nights, that she recalled. And if she stared hard enough at the bronze sheen of a pan hanging from the wall of this place, she could picture the appearance of that cookie, too. Golden chains hung around her neck and she had a constant stream nature documentaries playing on a screen in her living room. For dinner, she made the most delicious lentil soup. Candy Apple was too young to remember the ingredients, but she could remember longing to be back there, at least to see what was in it.

She’d been chasing that flavour until the river made her forget about it entirely. 

Wait. How did she even remember the river?

Whatever, it wasn’t important now.

“Saffy, what if the storm takes him?”

Black Sapphire was leaning against an alcove with downcast eyes. “Is that all you were staring so hard at the wall for?”

“No! But that’s not the point! The point is that you just left boss behind, and without his staff, he can’t make a shield!”

“He can handle himself.” He pushed his tongue around in his cheek, “I have every faith that his power is much stronger than some wind and sand.”

“And spice! Are we forgetting spice?”

“Obviously not.” 

“Then why are we leaving him to fend for himself? I need to go out there and…”

“Help?” Finally he straightened his back, “You can’t help him. If he wanted help he would’ve ordered it by now. And besides, Pure Vanilla is his fight, and so is finding and persuading the Great Destroyer.”

Candy Apple clenched her fists. “Why are you acting like this?” It wasn’t just anger that radiated through her - Anticipation rolled around in her stomach, waiting for the wrong words to bring tears. “You and I are meant to follow Master through thick and thin, and weren’t you so worried about disobeying him before? What’s changed, Saffy? Why are you so different today? Are you scared?”

It took him a moment to say something back. “Scared…?” And then his eyes shifted  as he seemed to reconsider himself, “Yes, you’re right. I’m…” He hesitated a moment, “I’m sorry, Candy Apple. I should’ve been more careful.”

“?”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. Listen, I was just following what my heart was telling me to do, and in the moment, I was foreseeing some really bad things happening to all of us if nobody stopped him - or tried to, at least. If that gets me crumbled next time master finds us, so be it; but there’s something fishy going on.”

She stood confused. Normally they’d wind each other up into a screaming match; why had he suddenly decided to apologise?

“That’s not like you either…” she pointed out, “You’re meant to tell me I’m being ridiculous.”

He massaged his forehead and grabbed for his microphone - the one conveniently not present. He hadn’t realized it yet but what he’d really summoned was the blueberry sceptre. “You are being ridiculous. But in case you’ve forgotten, we only have each other right now - I’m not losing you too. Don’t you remember how it felt to have nothing?”

She’d asked a thousand times in the spire what had lead him down the road of deceit, mostly because she found his refusals to tell her hilarious; but beneath it all, she wanted to know, because her own past was a such a blur: Most of all, when she was forced to recall it, it was like seeing tiny cuts in a fabric, little fragments of what it felt like to be betrayed every standing or sitting moment she was alive. Treading secret passageways in a big house, screaming and being dragged over rough ground, running and laughing in perfect gardens. 

Perfect. 

That was a word that lingered on her tongue and it felt like hot lava and spite and resentment for a cookie whose face she succeeded to forget. She knew well enough to tell the master of deceit that she never wanted to see those faces again. He promised her a new life, not any less dangerous, but with more freedom. Different strings to bind her, she didn’t mind. The old ones dug into her wrists like they were trying to cut her hands off. 

The new strings might burn in the place of their wounds, but at least when they tightened she could be sure it was all her fault.

But you’re never really sure, are you?

“That’s not true.” She said to Black Sapphire. “Neither of us have ever Had Nothing, so to speak.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah! I had… We had him.” 

Black Sapphire’s condescending tone was back like a boomerang. “Did Shadow Milk cookie give you a plushie in his likeness? You’ve told me about that before.” 

“No!” She felt the tears coming up - sheesh, and of all the trigger points, “it’s just… wow Black Sapphire, why would you say that? He came to rescue us! He was there when we both had nowhere else to go. Why do you think I’m so loyal to him? We gave our lives for his cause!”

“No, you gave your life for his cause. And you might continue to do that, starting out there, right?” He gestured with his eyes to the door. “You’re going to get yourself hurt if you do that. And in case you’ve forgotten, none of us can heal, since it’s not the spire anymore.”

“I…” she stumbled on her feet, “I still have to try!” 

“Candy Apple!” But she was already rushing to the door when he yanked her round and gripped her shoulder with an intensity he’d never done even when he was furious with her. “You can’t save him! He’s on a warpath about this whole revenge thing! Listen, I want him to be okay too, but he’s not Okay. And he won’t be, regardless of whether you drag him to safety or let him wallow till it’s over.”

“Then what difference does it make?” She yelled, and smacked his face hard, “You’re just scared, aren’t you? Your ego needs to come down, Sapphire. If he hurts you, he hurts both of us. And he won’t hurt both of us.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then I’ll do it.” She kneed him and smacked a spice covered apple into his temple. “I’ll find out the Truth!”

The winds had slowed since the last time she was out here, and it seemed her tears helped to keep the spice out. The first thing she needed to do was find the microphone, because that would provide at least some sort of connection to magic and she could make a shield… though she was never formally educated in magic.

She looked first for the big pillar with all the writing on it. Which direction was north again? 

The wind didn’t provide much answer, whipping her in all directions. “Master Shadow Milk!!” She called out, because she couldn’t exactly call on the microphone. “Hello?? Are you still out there?”

Code signals tended to work better with him. So she latched onto the one most recent in her memory - the wolves. 

“Awooooo?” She called out, “Awooooo!”

She wasn’t doing a very convincing impression, but from somewhere in the east a voice responded, muffled out by the wind.

“Awwoooo!” She called in that direction. There it was again. Someone screaming for help.

Help, a wolf! He used to say. Who is going to come stop this monstrous thing!

It wasn’t really a wolf - most of the time, it was a high stack of dishes from having so many guests over. Those were the days before the tree seal, when cookies from all around still yearned for his Knowledge. He hosted dinner parties, for fun most of the time. She used to hide under the table, watching as he went on speeches. 

The lies he sold just got more ridiculous every time. And so did his stunts, his pranks so to speak. 

She was so, So happy when he asked for her help in orchestrating them. The rush of being told she did a good job could rival all the joy she used to feel on her birthdays combined - No, outdo it. In that same vein, He used to throw birthday parties out of nowhere for himself and his servants. Said it was a good reminder of all the time spent together. 

Though a few centuries went by and he stopped doing them, getting petty whenever she asked. Even the cruel jokes he made when she’d begged for one more didn’t sway her from the path. Combining her birthdays before and after the spire, she’d be about a year away from becoming of age. She really just needed one more. 

And he’d never give it to her.

She followed the process until she could find him sitting on a broken fountain with the microphone on his lap. 

“Master!” She ran over and took the microphone right out of his lap, using all her mental power to summon up a spell. “C’mon, come on!”

“You need to turn it on.” He reached over to flick a button and the gem lit up. “Hehe-hello, Lisssteners,” with zero intonation in his voice, he greeted Black Sapphire’s audience, “Still stuck in the desert. Oooo-ahhhhh….”

“Master, what’s going on? You should get inside!”

“To be honest, Candy, I fully expected you to come back.” He curled his fingers around the microphone, “but I’m almost inclined to just stay here out of spite. Aw, but that wouldn’t be very conducive to my revenge plot, would it?” There was a dazed look in his eyes, and when he smiled his teeth were red with spice. “Hehehe, poor fools, running away from everything. One could call it sticking your head in the sand. You’re a smart girl, Apple. You wouldn’t stick your head in the sand.” His eyes faltered for a second and he swayed forward. “What’s even the point of coming back with you? It’s only going to lead to more drama.”

“But…! Don’t you like drama? You love it!”

His eyes opened again as he seemed to reconsider. “I do. I really love it.” He coughed out more spice - did he stick his head in the sand? “I’m not scared of him leaving, Apple. If he can’t handle solitude he’ll either crumble or crawl back to me. It’s you that’ll suffer the worst in his absence anyway; and that causes me so much anxiety.”

“Huh?! What are you even saying? Get up, you old man!” She yanked him by the white streaks of his hair and he screamed. 

“Ouch! Where are you taking me, little brat!”

“To safety, where you’ll stop spewing… weirder nonsense than usual!”

She grabbed a firm hold of the microphone and started naming out every food she could conjure up in her mind. The bubble expanded, but she still couldn’t see what direction the house was in.

“Uhhh- Oh! Okay folkie dokies, how many digits of pi do you know?”

“That’s definitely not going to work!” 

“Whatever. Three point one four one five nine two-“ And it did, it gave them both enough space to see around them. Finally she let go of his hair and grabbed his collar instead. “This way! Six five three five-“

She dragged him along until they reached a wall, and she went north about it. “Nine seven…. Four..? Oh no! I don’t remember anything else!”

“Let me do it, give me- give me the mic!”

“Nooooo!” She held onto it for dear life, “I won’t let you get away from me!”

“Why would I do that? Newsflash, I can’t go anywhere without my staff by my side.” He gave chase as she evaded his swipes and started banging on every door she could. 

“Saffyyyy!!!! I found him!!! Let me in!!” 

She could hear a call from behind her and turned just in time to see Black Sapphire beckoning her over. Wait, where had-

“Gotcha, brat!” He wrestled the microphone out of her hands and the spice returned. “Now, dear listeners, whatever nonsense you just heard, we are so So sorry! Half of those numbers were in the wrong order anyway.” He twisted upside down in the air with a mocking smile. “Fortunately the mic is mine now, and I get to say whatever I want. Can all of earth-bread hear this? I’d like to make an announcement-“

Candy Apple felt a rough tug on her apple stick just as her hand closed around the mic’s stand. Both of them were dragged backwards into the same house she and Black Sapphire had taken shelter in. 

She fell back as the door slammed shut. Black Sapphire was looking at both of them like an angry parent. “My witches, Candy Apple, you could’ve been crumbled out there!”

“But I found him, look, I did!”

Black Sapphires gaze traveled over to the red and disoriented Shadow Milk Cookie who, now breathing unseasoned air, was coughing out dust like he was a derelict mansion with newly installed air conditioning. (What the hell does that mean) (sorry)

“The kulfi are making dinner right now. Both of you should eat something.” He tossed a cloth at his master’s face. “Get the spice out of your eyes. You look on the verge of tears.”

“Huh-!” Candy Apple stood up and followed him to the stove, “You can’t just do that to Master Shadow Milk cookie!”

“Frankly, I’m too hungry and angry at You to care right now.”

“Seriously, what is up with you! Acting all weird and broody! It’s like you don’t even wanna serve master Shadow Milk anymore!”

“I’ve already said it, Candy Apple. I’m afraid, now I’m tired, and very soon I’ll be starving too. Go sit down.” He finally met her expectant stare with an exasperated one of his own. “You need to rest. It will get better after dinner.”

“Curse you! I hope you crumble!”

But she obeyed, sitting on the edge of the couch and letting her tears come freely, using them to wash away the spice on her cheeks, and the corners of her mouth. 

Shadow Milk cookie had found the bucket of Laffi, and was indeed washing his hands in it. 

She opened her mouth to say something, maybe ask for a hug, but he silenced with a shake of his head. “Don’t talk.” He grabbed the sides of the pot. And inhaled, “I need a lot of time to think.” And then he dunked his head straight in like he was trying to drown himself.

She recognised that well enough. He was still upset about earlier, even if he claimed he wasn’t afraid of anything. Back in the spire, he’d bury his face in pillows and scream it out. That wretched Vanilla cookie had called him a dramatic adolescent teenager for how he coped with his feelings. Luckily he’d responded by reminding the little fool that he himself was the biggest crybaby of all, weeping nearly every night since he’d arrived.

The loneliness ignited flashes of a new memory; the night she had come to the spire.

Back then, it was still mostly known as the Tower of all Knowledge. The cookie who greeted her was unfamiliar to her, wearing an immaculate purple suit.

“I came to see the wise Fount.” She said as she fidgeted with the ribbons in her hair. “He promised me an audience.”

“Tonight?”

“No, but… whenever I needed him?”

The purple cookie tapped his chin. “That’s interesting. He almost never lets people inside his spire without proper reasoning nowadays. How long ago was this?”

She turned to the buttons on her sleeves, twisting them around and avoiding the expectant gaze of the doorman. “M-month ago. He visited my family and left me a note saying I could come when I was ready.”

“Oho? A family? Come in.” She followed him up the steps into a grand foyer, gold and white gleaming with purple and blue accents. “Here we are, the grand spire of all things known and unknown! Master might still be taking a milk bath, sorry for the wait. Stay in the dining room and Never stray from the gold. Especially do not look the portraits in the eyes for too long.” He gave a naughty little wink and left her there. 

Sooner or later, the Fount stepped down in a dressing gown that could’ve been robes of state with how elaborate the embroidery was.

“I was called upon- Oh! Little star-pupil!” He floated right down to her, coming up close to her face with a toothy grin. “I thought you and your family had it all figured out, I was starting to lose hope that you’d show. But ah! What am I if not the best cookie to foreshadow everything! I should change my name to that; Foreshadowing Milk cookie!”

“…What is your name?”

“The Fount of Knowledge has many names.” The purple one said. “You may simply call him-“

“Let’s not worry about the formalities, Fount works just fine. Now, what caused such a bright star to end up on my doorstep in the deep dark hours of night?” He spun his key staff and one of the big portraits changed from a scene of a peaceful dinner to some kind of baroque scene of many cookies pushing and pulling at each other. “Oh, troubles with the bubbles, you probably came here because of your home life, didn’t you?”

“Bubbles?”

“Your sisters.” He said more menacingly. “Broke something of yours today, did she? Can’t imagine she’ll like having to clean it up in your stead.” 

“Wait, how-?”

“Master has eyes all around Earth-Bread. Knowledge is in sight - pun fully intended - and as the fount of it, he must see all.”

She looked between the painting and the Fount of Knowledge. There was a different kind of gleam in his eyes, one that spelled no more comfort than it did certainty. 

The golden eye she’s remembered from the posters around his academy was replaced with a bright neon blue. Around it a darker blotch shaped into a crown appeared. She must’ve made her staring obvious, because his newly blue eye winked. 

“I’m still working on fixing the pattern. Time does about as much good for healing as the light of the moon. You need both to reach a full recovery.”

“Did something happen?”

“Not important right now.” He balanced on the railing of the foyer staircase, “What matters is what You are looking for; knowledge, entertainment, a top class chef, Moi? A saviour, perhaps?”

Saviour?

She thought about it, though not for long. Being put on the spot like this in front of the One and Only virtue of Knowledge was nerve wracking, as if saying the wrong thing could get her kicked out. And then she’d never get help.

“Can I talk to you about it,” She glanced at the purple stranger, “In private?”

“Oh?” 

“No offence of course, it’s just… I don’t want anybody else knowing.”

If she’d known back then how much trouble she’d saved herself from by banishing Black Sapphire cookie, she might have even been a bit less polite about it. 

“Of course! No secret ever needs to leave this building.” The purple cookie said.

“Sapphire, please. Let her have privacy.” The Fount’s voice turned gentler now, like how it was the last time he met her. “She needs this, I’m not going to squander it.”

“As you wish, Master.” Sapphire bowed and left the room. The doors shut automatically behind him.

“How about we take a walk, star pupil?” 

She had told him everything. Days must’ve passed in the spire, for she could recall fields within it and tables with tea cakes and rooms full of plush chairs. 

He never stopped listening. He asked questions along the way, gathering everything he could know about her. She caught him writing it in a book once, with a name that wasn’t hers. What was her name before it was Candy Apple cookie? She had probably asked to forget that too. 

“Why are you documenting that?” She asked when she felt the courage after a strangely peppermint drink. 

“No reason. I might burn it when you’re done. I can’t help it though; sometimes the interpersonal lives of your kind amuse me. You, for instance, have lived a tumultuous and lonely existence. Your memory is wonderful, being able to outline the specific details of each awful instance. It’s like reading a book about the world’s most miserable little girl.” He smiled in a way that looked more forced than normal, “Pardon me for how detached I may sound; I tend to find enjoyment in hearing these stories. I enjoy watching how cookies suffer. That sounds morbid, doesn’t it? Ah well, none can help it; Why bother to read or understand when you refuse to embrace suffering? There’s a sort of anticipation in it, wondering if the story will end happily or not. It’s that tug that really leads people on in their existence. Though by now I’m sure you’ve grown tired of the fear, the sting of regret in every movement around the grounds of your house, hmm?”

His expectant eyes fell on her. For all the attention he’d given her, this instance stuck out to her. It was always so thrilling to see him pay attention. But now it was like he was asking her to make a choice which could define her future forever. Such importance being placed on a few simple words made her head rush.

“Then, how about this; I can make you forget everything you once knew, and live a life that consists of far less anguish, and far more Fun!” He got up and spun around, “Games, tricks, lessons that finally mean something. If that’s what you want, I can give it to you!”

“Really?! But… What about my family?”

“What About your family? Do you still care for them?” He frowned, “Even after they hurt you?”

Yes. she wanted to say, Because they’re the only thing I have. But instead she joined him, standing in the tall grass under a sky pale with clouds, “I just wish I could live without wondering if the pain they gave me was my fault. My penitence.”

“OooOoo big word! Told ya, a smart cookie.” He was saying this to someone else now, the purple cookie who was being followed by… a gemstone with bat wings?

“Don’t worry, he didn’t hear anything.” He put his hands behind his back, “And he won’t be repeating anything he did.” The look he gave the new arrival spelled danger, and for the first time, she wondered if the Fount’s amusement in suffering was not mere curiosity, but perhaps something more sinister.

“I hear you giving your guest a little offer there. Care to explain?”

“Well it’s simple - she leaves her old life of terrible rules, rich idiots and constant pain and punishment behind, becomes my disciple and we three take on the greatest mysteries of cookie kind!”

“Wow, mysteries?” She said. Now it sounded pretty enticing. The wind brushed through their hair. 

“Anything you want, little star. For the price of your old life.” The sun came out again and burnt into her retinas as he smiled wide,  “I will warn you though, it’s not always wise to make a decision on such short notice. You’ve been here longer than just a night, I’m sure you know. I think you should go home and think about it.”

“No! I don’t wanna go home!” She clung to him and put on her best impression of pleading, the one she’d learned to do for her father, “Pleeeassseeee let me stay! I’ll do your laundry for you, clean your dishes by hand, soak the dogs too!”

“We don’t have dogs.”

“Then cats! OR… worms! I saw a really big one once, curled around the tower! I’ll feed it and everything!!”

The Fount looked at the purple suited man, and gave a shrug. “Originally I was going to peer pressure you into staying after saying that… but looks like you might actually be better off never leaving this place again. On your terms, not mine.”

“Yes, yes! Please master, I’ll be the best housekeeper or student or anything!! Anything at all!”

The purple cookie finally stepped forward, “I don’t think this is a good idea.” He said to the Fount, “She’s not in a state to be… in service to you.”

The Fount nodded his head, “I know. I’m aware of it too. But look at her, Sapphire. She’s already gone to the police before. I can’t in good conscience let her go back.”

“Ugh. I should’ve never let you spend more than ten minutes around a child again. Off you go, making her Our problem.” Sapphire clicked his tongue and the gemstone bat split into three, “C’mon, we’ve got news stories to report.”

“Don’t mind him.” The Fount flicked a wrist, “He’s always told me he wanted a sister.” Then he straightened up and tapped his chin, “Though, considering his origins, he’s probably got several half-siblings by now. Ah, cookie dough, what a strange and mysterious thing!”

Chapter Text

After all those morning meetings, Pure Vanilla felt it in order to go out into the square, reconnect with his people. 

So after saying goodbye to the diplomats, he had his next cup of tea, a nap and finally the fillet. 

By that point just one meal wasn’t enough to satisfy his cravings, but he could hold it off until a little while, at least long enough to find someplace in the streets to dine.

And with that thought he put on his cape and set off without another word to the servants. 

The sun was wonderful today, something he no longer had to fear missing out on. The cloudless sky spelled boundless opportunities today, and he knew with just a simple swish of his cape as he turned a corner onto a lane with an antique goods store that there would be plenty of blessings for him. He just needed to look.

Stopping off at one such antique store, he found a most wonderful pair of belled slippers, white and in good condition. How could he pass up on such an opportunity?

As expected, a crowd followed him wherever he went, and soon enough the store was much more crowded than it was when he had walked in. He was given many places to skip in the line, most of which he refused. 

About a person or two left before he was meant to pay, a little voice greeted him and he looked back to see a tiny cookie with long brown hair staring up at him. 

“Oh, hello. Do we know each other?” 

“Ehh, no. Well, I know you. But we’ve never met.” The young girl was accompanied by her mother, who smiled in return of his question. 

“It’s her birthday today.” She said. 

“Ah! Is that so? Well, happy birthday, little girl. What age are you turning?”

“14!” She waved her hands, “we’re gonna go soo broke!”

“Ah well, what better day to go broke than the day you can wish for anything at all?” He considered for a moment and then asked, “what would you wish for, if money wasn’t a factor?”

“Ah, you don’t have to!” Her mother said, “we wouldn’t want to burden you.”

“It’s no trouble.” He reassured her. “It’s her special day.”

The girl considered, and then pointed, “how about that big sheep?” 

Pure Vanilla followed her finger to a stuffed animal with big button eyes. He used his magic to levitate it over onto the counter when it was his turn to pay.

Once he was finished, he handed it to the girl. “I sincerely wish you the most wonderful day. Goodbye!” He waved at them as he stepped out the door, and continued on. His heart was alight - this was what having power should’ve been all about. The little moments, things never forgotten. She would take good care of the sheep.

His next stop, he wanted to see what the hat market looked like in his kingdom. Nothing huge, just a few wide brimmed straw hats being sold by vendors to block out the sun. His own hat did him the same job, no need for a new one. 

One vendor did not do hats, but instead rattan figurines, and since they had a line of ancients, he bought one each. Might be nice to give his friends miniatures of themselves when he arrived in Hollyberry this weekend.

He tossed a coin to a busker by the fountain on his way to the restaurant quarter. Clouds were finally settling on the horizon. Would they reach the kingdom before nightfall, he wondered? 

One positive of the vanilla kingdom was that its allies all had differing produce, and so it was somewhat of a mixing pot for cultures. So he had quite the array of options to choose from. He settled on noodles from the kingdom of dark cacao, as he would be making a stop off at his kingdom anyway before heading down to Hollyberry kingdom.

The place he picked was cozy, themed with the dark chocolate walls and purple seats typical of its kingdom. The menu also had items exclusively in the dark cacao script - offal meats, no doubt. 

After the momentary waves of burn from the spice earlier, he’d decided he was not really in the mood to have that feeling in his mouth, so he took what he knew the cookies of deceit would’ve called the wimp option and asked for something milder. A miso soup noodle dish and a pot of green tea.

It was really funny, in hindsight.

A rare occasion at the dinner table and Shadow Milk cookie had actually bothered to provide food. But what he hadn’t told any of them was that the blue colouring was not for the sake of his Theme; it was an unknown rare and equally hot spice. 

Candy Apple instantly started to complain and beg for something less spicy, and he provided, surprisingly. Then there was Black Sapphire who was eating it with completely normal reactions; aka, tearing up and fanning himself. He too was provided with a less spicy option.

Then Shadow Milk cookie looked over to the Truthless Recluse. “What about you? Gonna choose the Wimp option? Or are you going to suffer just to appear resilient?”

The Truthless Recluse spun the fork around in the pasta. “I don’t see the point of this. If you knew we all had low spice tolerances, why bother with the seasoning you picked tonight?”

“Oh, you know it’s not about the seasoning; think, Nilly. What could I possibly be making these dishes so hot for?”

He took the biggest spoonful of the original blue dish he could; and wretched a little. Not only was it spicy, but the sauce was straight up just Not Good. 

Still he swallowed it down with a gag. “Because you want to humiliate me, I see that clear as day. Oh, but you’ve got a double motive, don’t you?”

“Now you’re getting it!” He gave the not-spicy option anyhow. “Well, there ya go! You don’t have to suffer if you don’t want to!”

He looked at the other plate. Likely carbonara sauce. Whatever. 

He kept taking the burning blue pasta, forcing it down despite how his eyes watered. 

“Oho? Not going to take the easy path? You’re just making yourself sick you know, you should take the painless option; the one that requires less resistance.”

He swallowed and managed not to gag. “You’re a trickster. For all I know, there’s something wrong with the other one too. Too sour, is it?”

Candy apple’s squinted eyes told him yes.

“Predictable. You were just going to make each dish less interesting by flavour until we preferred going hungry.”

“Oooo, you’re starting to understand me. Oh! That tickles my heart, you know me so well!”

Pure Vanilla took his third and final bite and pushed the plate. “Done.”

“What- you finished the whole thing already?”

He nodded and held it back as all the pasta came back up. “Can I-?”

Shadow Milk groaned and a bucket appeared beside the Truthless Recluse, “Go on.”

He vomited it all out. Oh it hurt, it hurt a lot. He expected there to be crumbs in it, but he refused to look. The bucket was disintegrated to mere ashes and Shadow Milk clapped. “Well! You beat me at my own game. I suppose I should reward you with a little reprieve, right? What will it be? A glass of milk, a peaceful night, maybe you want me all to yourself until sunrise? How exciting, so many options!”

“How about… a question?”

His disappointment was immediately clear - and it was So amusing. “You can ask me a question anytime Vanilly. I’m offering you a night with absolutely no interruptions, a glass of milk - I’ll literally do your very bidding if you chose that last one for witches sake!”

“I wouldn’t want to spend more time around you than you make me - which is nearly every waking moment. A question, no avoidance, no half truths, no lies. One question and one truthful, fully informed answer.”

Shadow Milk threw his head back. “Fiiine! Go ahead then, curious little cookie; what’s your hearts greatest wonder, I shall provide you a full explanation of any truth of this world!”

The Truthless Recluse tried to smile. It’s what he would’ve done if he was still Pure Vanilla cookie. “Tell me, what reaction would you have to the spice, if you were to be completely honest about its effect on you?”

Shadow Milk waited a moment before his shoulders slumped and one of his eyes twitched.

“That’s the question, Shadow Milk cookie. I want to know what it would do to you, to eat the blue pasta.”

“Not gonna ask me to eat it and show you? Ya know I can’t exactly lie - or, can’t make it obvious that I’m lying!”

“No. That would be a request. If I wanted to command you to eat it, I’d simply have said so.” He closed his eyes, and the eyes of his staff multiplied, “just answer the question. It’s okay, you can force your servants out if it’s too embarrassing.”

Shadow Milk cookie appeared before him, squinting one eye, “and what if I make you deaf?”

“Sounds like you’re trying to cover for yourself.” 

“Ugh! You are so annoying when you imitate me!” He swirled his staff and the candles burned brighter, “need I remind that that I am a beast! My dough was made to withstand all forms of damage; water, wind, fire, gravity. Even in this weaker body, a simple chemical reaction would do Nothing to crumble my dough!”

“Alright. But what else would it do?” Truthless recluse drank from the cup provided - which somehow made the spice worse, despite his mouth having gone numb. “I’m not here to hear you go on about invincibility. Give me a symptom. A sensation. Something you’d feel.”

“You’re all about feelings, aren’t you? Fine, I’ll tell you. No, I’ll show you!”

“No, don’t. Tell me. That’s what I want you to do.”

“Never said I had to do what you wanted though!” The spice went away nearly immediately. But now, what replaced it was the sensation of having eaten too much - how tired it made him. Actually, seeing as he hardly ate as it was, it should’ve made him nauseous, but Shadow Milk cookie had either failed to consider this, or he Had considered it but intentionally left out that detail so as to not distract from the point; his mouth did not register spice.

“Feel nothing? It’s because I’m Shadow Milk cookie! Milk counters spiciness! My goodness, what a waste of an opportunity, Vanilly, you could’ve had me submitting to your whims for an entire week if you wanted!”

“Malicious compliance makes it less Fun. It was simple curiosity that drove my question, and I happened to seize the opportunity to get a real answer. Also, I’m noticing this consistent theme of you giving up your autonomy as a reward? I think…” The spice returned and he bit his tongue, “That isn’t going to stop me - I Think, Shadow Milk cookie, if that’s what you want to do, you should just do it. You’re the one who’s really in control, after all. I could place my soul jam on it; nobody will judge you for wanting to be my puppet - except you.”

His servants looked mortified, but most hilarious was Shadow Milk’s own expression, the light casting a shadow over eyes glowering with indignation.

“Go back to your room… Pure Vanilla cookie.”

Finally he could feel himself grinning, “Thank you, Master Shadow Milk cookie.”

Yeah. He could definitely never tell his friends about that one. But the look on their faces was too priceless, and he had a feeling such boldness reminded the beast of someone from his past - Eternal Sugar Cookie. 

From the tales, it seemed eternal sugar took many lovers - including the other beasts. And alike hollyberry cookie, feasts with sugarplum wine were held nearly every week.

It was also said, by Black Sapphire no less, that she had a couple favourites in particular - one had stuck with her until her fall into madness, where she’d cast him out.

And, having seen flashes of the past, there was no doubt in his mind that she had at some point taken the Fount of Knowledge himself into her kingdom. 

Maybe he resented Pure Vanilla’s existence partially due to that heartbreak. Yet another bruise to be pressed on without ever knowing it. 

Sigh. The journey ahead of him was long, perhaps so long that it should go on past the point where either of their bodies even existed. But even through the hopelessness that comes with having to live beyond the point at which you should have died, new beginnings always sprout. Keep fighting, for it is the only thing you can do. 

He was eating his ramen with such focus that he hadn’t even noticed the new cookie sitting across from him, until they greeted him. 

“Oh! Black Raisin cookie, what brings you here?”

She didn’t answer immediately, glancing around the restaurant before leaning in. “Someone’s been following you since you left the palace.”

“Oh? Who would that be?”

Black Raisin cookie pointed her eyes to a nearby table where someone was buried in their menu, averting their gaze from the other two whenever they looked over.

They seemed just like any other fan. His subjects did see him as somewhat of a messiah after all. 

“If there’s no danger, let them stare. They’re just nervous to approach.”

Black Raisin put a hand on her belt where a tiny dagger hid, “I don’t know, Pure Vanilla. It’s possible they might follow you home.”

“Well, I can handle myself.” He refilled his cup and realized she had no drink. “I can order more green tea for you if you’d like.”

“No thanks. Just thought I’d drop by.” She stood up and give a two fingered salute. “By the way, it’s raining out there. Be careful; bandits are pretty slick when the stones get slippery.”

“Oh, well in that case you should stay so you may accompany me home.” He looked to the waiters who were all watching to ensure the meals of the customers were satisfying. “Don’t worry about the price, I can pay for it all.”

Black Raisin looked like she was about to disagree, but reluctantly she took her seat again and a new waitress came over.

He complimented her hair after ordering the second pot. Her hidden smile as she turned back to the kitchens dazzled his heart. 

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Compliments.” Black Raisin folded a napkin like origami, “Even when it’s someone who you know nothing of, you always have something good to say about them.”

“Think of it as… boosting morale. It makes my subjects happy to be acknowledged, and I would do the same even if I were a mere peasant in these lands. It makes me happy to make others happy.”

Black Raisin considered this statement. “That’s very alike you, isn’t it…”

The tea arrived and their conversation seemed to turn to more simple things, like how the kingdom had done in the absence of its monarch. His democracy idea was definitely working, because many cookies came around to help each other when the palace was empty and therefore their complaints were made useless. Funny, maybe he should try leaving them on their own more often. But then again, he was never meant to be their monarch in the first place; he would remain living in the palace and working as a mediator if anybody wanted to use his kingdom as a safe place to do negotiations. But overall, his time as King was over, and all that remained of his power was his status as an ancient hero and his ownership of the palace. He was otherwise a figurehead politician, a symbol of hope to others. 

He imagined the days of work would get steeper for a while, but if he worked it out he could definitely live more peacefully once Dark Enchantress cookie was defeated. Such a busy schedule.

“Don’t put yourself under so much pressure,” Black Raisin said, “You need to rest too. One day, one goal, okay?”

“You don’t have to remind me.”

“Yeah I do. We village cookies worry about you sometimes, you seem so distracted whenever you’re walking in the streets.”

“Ah, I’ve only been home for a day, how could you know that?”

Black Raisin looked like she wanted to say something, but instead she just put down her cup and wiped her mouth with a napkin. He took her silence as a sign she’d yielded. 

They both finished their tea in silence and her gaze returned to the cookie who had allegedly been following him. They’d eaten a full meal, and all the while been sneaking glimpses at their tables.

“Shall we?” He asked her to break her gaze away. She shrugged and let him go up to a waitress who led him to a cash register. 

“Will that be coins?”

“Yes, ah- Can I also pay for that table over there?” He pointed to the alleged stalker’s table. “Separate receipt for them, of course.”

The waitress did not question it - he was quite well known to be benevolent, after all. She even gave him an overall discount, though he tried to say he wouldn’t need one. Everyone was just so honored to be in his presence that they’d nearly toss their wares at him if he didn’t insist on paying them full price. Shadow Milk cookie would’ve been telling him to take advantage of the financial freedom he had in Not having to pay for things. But everyone needs to make a living, and a celebrity visit was not a reason to miss a payment. 

He paid (with discount) and brought the second receipt over to the table of the lone cookie.

“I heard from my accompaniment that you had been following me all around town today. Is that true?”

“P-Pure Vanilla cookie?” They seemed at the edge between guilty and in awe at once. “My- I never thought I’d be noticed by you…”

“I will take that as a yes?” He gave a warm smile so they would know he was not angry, “This was your meal, was it not?”

“Yes sir. Exactly what I ordered.” Then they realized what was going on and a hesitant smile broke out on their face, “I… I’m sorry for following you.”

“Ah, I forgive you. You’re quite dedicated, to go into a restaurant and order an entire dish just for an excuse to look longer at me. Tell me, were you payed?”

Their face flushed, “No, but are you saying I could be?” 

“Absolutely! If you can set your mind to a task the same way you set it to pursuing me around, maybe you could make an excellent spy. If not for Black Raisin cookie, I wouldn’t have even known you were there.” He pat them on the head, “Perhaps you should try being one of my own spies, though I would need Black Raisin cookie herself to interview you - there are plenty of requirements to be under her jurisdiction, but she isn’t as scary as she looks.”

The cookie lit up at his words. “I’ll consider it, thank you, thank you, thank you!” They clasped their palms together and bowed their head. 

“Goodbye, ehh…”

“Strudel cookie.” 

“Yes, goodbye strudel cookie!”

Black Raisin beckoned him out the door and they walked together the entire way back to the palace. The streets had indeed been rained on, and puddles lingered by gutters and in less crowded street lines. 

“Nice trick, putting the responsibility onto me hmm?”

What she was talking about didn’t immediately register on his mind. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure how else one could become a spy if not under your training, you could turn them away if it’s too much pressure.”

Black Raisin grunted. “Naw, it’s fine. I’ll find a place in my schedule, not much going on as it is.”

He folded his hands and bowed. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

They made it up to the castle in comfortable silence, and said their goodbyes. Now the sun was on the horizon and he felt compelled to take another nap.

He tiptoed up the steps as quietly as he could before remembering that he owned the place, and could therefore make as much noise as he wanted. Still, the sound of his own footsteps unnerved him, and he expected some loud rumbling to pop out from anywhere with each step ascended. 

But he had not the mental energy to think of why this anxiety was here. He instead chalked it up to something else - his soul jam. 

But plainly ignoring the ringing, he made it up to his bedroom and threw his clothes aside before slipping into bed and falling right into a cozy state of slumber.

His dream was one of cool darkness - water, clear except for the reflection of the sky and the light passing through. He was sinking down, down into the darkness. At first, he expected he must be drowning. Every other dream about water had ended in him gasping for air when he awoke. 

But not this time.

What instead grew inside of him was a deep sense of calm, as if the water was his friend. Its cool and warm pockets brushed against different places of his dough, like fish swimming up current. 

Do dreams need to have a meaning?

The question was simple, spoken in a gentler tone than he was used to from the other Cookie lurking in the waters. 

“I’d like to say, No. Not always. Believe me, young scholar, I have traveled the realms of seen and unseen, and my conclusion stands; No, not all your dreams have meaning. But that does not mean that they don’t  hold symbolic value.”

The golden eye sparkled despite facing utter darkness. The Sage whose true name had been lost to eons of madness reached out to him, for his hand. “Think of dreams as a way of processing all that you have ever seen. Sometimes they are mismatched shapes and ideas, streets of unusual length filled with cookies whose faces didn’t match any other part of them. Other times it’s as if you have fallen into another universe entirely, one that reflects your Truth so openly that it stings when you awaken, if even for a moment.”

A faint flicker of the Sting appeared in his heart, and he realized that it was his soul jam, being pulled upwards by the Sage’s outstretched hand. “But you already knew, didn’t you? Pure Vanilla cookie…” His smile meant a thousand things, each ridge in his teeth another idea stuck in perfect harmony with the others. 

“You’ve braved it all already, that sting does not need to plague you, for you have already accepted your Truth. You only wish to bring happiness to cookiekind. And your protection of the weak is another part of that wish - though it will Always end in your demise, as it ended in mine.”

“You aren’t being truthful when you say that.” He retorted, “I will not falter.”

The sage’s smile stretched wider, resembling that of his more recent self, that cookie who detested him so. “Maybe. I’m always open to being proven wrong, my dear. It’s why I value the virtue of Knowledge so much - it’s so alike your Truth, shapeshifting, ever changing. The pursuit of Knowledge does not ever stop, and no perfect conclusion can ever be reached. So tell me, my beloved successor - Why do you persist?”

Finally his body was being pulled up, and the sage swam alongside him, closer and closer to the surface of the water. 

“That is my mission. At first, I wanted to find out the truth behind it all. Now, I simply wish to know what lies at the centre of the universe, if cookies truly have no purpose.” He said, “Before you go, tell me this; Why did you appear to me?”

“Why? Because he misses you.” His gentle gaze settled on the cookie of Truth, “There is a part of you that lies at the bottom of this lake, a part that I must go now to seek. I wish you a kind evening, my dear - the next few days will not be easy.”

“What does that mean?”

Raindrops fell on the surface of the water, he could see it clearly now. There was chaos up ahead. When he inevitably broke the surface, he would be scrambling to find purchase on a riverbank. 

“Love.” The Sage said, “Love and Fear. The two most popular answers given when asked what lies at the bottom of every motivation in the world. That is the question I lay out for the next part of the story; What drives You?” His question echoed through space and into the hearts and minds of all cookies and non-cookies alike.

He let go of the Sage’s hand and fought upwards. The Sage gave him one final nod before sinking deeper into the darkness. A willful drowning, perhaps. 

The answer to the Sage’s question was on his tongue as his hand broke into the air and his face began to emerge from the waters. 

He sucked in a breath and the warm air took a hold of him again. He was back in his bed, safe and sound.

As for the Soul Jam, the ringing had stopped, but only momentarily. His first thought was that he needed to make a fresh cup of tea; And to write an entry of today’s events into his diary.

Chapter Text

Throughout his life as an immortal, the Fount had discovered his immunity to nearly everything. His dough had been baked to withstand time, and with it all the natural elements of the world - storms and hurricanes, forest fires and floods alike, he’d even braved the lightning just to know what it felt like - and written it down in some storm guide now likely lost to time. As he’d found, so long as he possessed his soul jam, he was practically invincible.

So, when he’d received that burn mark on his face that caused him to have to replace his entire eye, he’d come to understand that his time as an immortal body might be cutting itself shorter and shorter with every lie.

Flames rose up on the horizon. From his spire he could tell that the village had not stopped burning - and his descendant was staring at the burning with just as much anxiety as he felt inside. But then again, he could never tell if Black Sapphire was truly worried about anything, or if it was just something he’d picked up from his mother — parents who were genius actors, and would both go on to use their talents to manipulate. How could he not be the perfect prodigy of his father’s legacy?

“What should I tell them?”

He turned to Black Sapphire with an upturned brow. “Tell who?”

“The cookies. Down below.” He stepped closer to the edge. “You said it was my job to report everything. You put me in charge of…relevant news. That man you battled is starting a war on all sides of earthbread. Everything,” He failed to hide the tremble in his voice, “Everything will be crumbled. This is too important for me not to report. What do I tell the common folk?”

“You want to tell the common folk At All?” The Fount turned his full attention to the poor thing, “We don’t Know if it’ll spread outside of Change’s domain. For all we know, he only plans to destroy—“

“He won’t.” Black Sapphire stood straight, “You said he wouldn’t stop at his own kingdom.”

“And maybe I was lying.” He turned away from his son. “I can do that sometimes…Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know what you should tell them. If everybody finds out about this, it’s going to be chaos.”

“It is, sir. It is chaos.”

He looked up to the moon, its glow stifled by the smoke in the distance. “Keep them safe, Sapphire. I don’t think they should know if they’re not at risk of being involved.”

“You want to… withhold information?”

“Look at me.” He turned and pulled up the eyepatch he’d made to hide the real extent of the damages, “if I don’t pop this thing it’s going to drive me crazy. I’m in no state to be a diplomat, or a warrior, or a politician. We have to keep the rest of the world as calm as possible. Only inform those who can prepare, because they should. But please, Sapphire, don’t tell the common folk about the disaster.” His pleading left a pitiful frown on his son’s face.

“Alright, I’ll follow your lead. Get some rest, you look on the verge of another fever.”

It was so incredibly odd to remember that Black Sapphire cookie was technically his child. The story behind his creation was a tale he loathed to recall, so the thought of their familial connection was normally drowned out by other, more important things.

But he’d been an adult far longer than a child, so most of the memories he had of Black Sapphire were after he’d embraced deceit. He worked perfectly fine as an obedient servant, especially one who had yet to remember their connection himself. Thank the yogurt river for that one.

Still, sometimes he would look at the confident sway of the cookie with his microphone, the edges of his smile a mixture of his two parents; the way his lashes framed his eyes — so alike Her — and not to mention his purple color, a perfect mixture of theirs.

He’d also picked up his mother’s habit of chewing on things absentmindedly when he was a baby, which later lead to him revealing he’d also taken her pout whenever Candy Apple accused him of mischief.

All of it ripped Shadow Milk cookie’s heart apart in a way that not even the story behind his burn scar had.

His head was pulled firmly out of the water and that familiar face assessed him, droopy white lashes twitching as he passed his thumb over the crown mark and blew out a sigh.

“Can you let go of my hair now?”

Black Sapphire blinked to attention and pulled back. “Apologies. I did not know you’d awoken from your slumber.”

He wiped the dripping substance from his face with his sleeve and flicked it so it all disappeared off the fabric. Black Sapphire remained close enough, perhaps awaiting for him to say something. And he might have, but with all the memories he’d just recalled, he felt in no state to speak to him at all, except to ask of Candy Apple’s whereabouts.

“In the kitchen.” The reply was oddly clipped, like Black Sapphire was avoiding speaking too, for the exact same reason. Well, not exact. “The Kulfi made dinner. She begged me to pull you out and ask if you wanted some - pointless since beasts don’t eat - and… I’m not on her good side right now, it was the least I could do.” His averted gaze finally settled on Shadow Milk cookie’s open mouth, and for some reason he pointed his index and tried to stick it in there.

Shadow Milk immediately bit down and the hand was retracted. “What the hell, Sapphire. Stop being weird.”

“Just making sure you’re not thinking of your little Silly Vanilly again.” He got to his feet as if he couldn’t hear the scoff he’d earned and summoned his microphone - and seemed much more at ease with it in his hand. “Well folks, it seems master Shadow Milk cookie is finally awake - but the question from before lingers; Will he eat something, or will I have to deal with that brat crying at me Again today? Only time will tell.”

“I can hear you, Saffy!” Candy Apple cookie shouted from a room over. “He’s gonna!! He owes it to me!!”

Hmph. Seems they talked it out again, by the sound of her normal tone, made annoyed by his comments. Last he saw of the pair, she’d been crying and he’d been…

No. He wasn’t going to ask this time. His stomach grumbled and he slid a hand over it as if that would conceal the sound. “Eh, I’ll be fine. Not sure I want More spice after that whole storm fiasco.”

“Oh do not worry, Fi! We have made it without spice for the newcomers.”

Without spice?

With hardly any vegetables in the desert, how could they possibly make anything of flavour when they chose not to add spice? On one hand, he knew the answer would be just what he expected, a bland stew of some kind - on the other hand, he was really in the mood to be proven wrong about flavour right now — he was starving.

“Fine, she’s right. She saved my life, I do owe her this tiny favour.”

He heard the tiny squeal emitting from the other room, and Black Sapphire’s brief expression of surprise and confusion before he schooled his features into the usual neutral confidence. “You heard it here, folks! Our beloved boss is taking up the offer! Let’s hope the kulfi can deliver just the right kind of heat!”

And then they left him alone to crawl onto the couch where a monkey with loads of wrinkles handed him a bowl of - Was this vegetable soup? How…?

He had nowhere near the energy to ask that out loud, accepting the absurdity and taking his first sip. Okay. It definitely had flavour, but as usual he felt there was something missing from it. A part of the dish he couldn’t taste that others could.

“This Is spicy…” He said to himself.  He’d lied when he said he Couldn’t taste spice. It was just drowned out by the flavour he was comprised of, which also happened to always be in his saliva. Milk calmed the effects of spice naturally. If there was spice in a dish, most likely it would not even register on his tongue.

The spice dune he’d screamed his frustration into was different. That was Pure spice, nothing else, and it clung to all corners of his mouth and sank in. Really, it wasn’t that bad - not in comparison to last time he was burnt through.

This dish was alright, actually. The kind that might make a more sentimental cookie recall their childhood.

“Saffy, I found it!” On cue, Candy Apple popped in, “This was the recipe from that mysterious woman!”

“Who now?”

“Oh,” she scoffed, “Nevermind. I’ll ask the recipe, I can make this Wayyy good with a few more beans.”

“Candy, ‘Way Good’ isn’t even correct grammatical phrasing.”

“And says who?” She slipped off her chair and he could see a sliver of her spice-syrup apple hair as she wandered in the hallway. How had she not yet cleaned it off?

No matter. He didn’t feel like talking anymore. In fact, his whole body felt as if it were made of hollow twigs. He hadn’t recovered from his dizzy spell caused by inhaling whatever the sand was made of.

And with that newfound haze in his body, he was finally able to release himself from the pressure holding down that little question: What was he doing this all for?

Could he even allow himself to examine his own motives? There had never been a time where he hadn’t allowed himself to think about his strategy. If all went south, he should have a backup plan. But just this once, there was nothing holding back from his single track. He had to end Pure Vanilla cookie; and if he couldn’t do that in one way, he’d try another. He’d burn the world to find that little cookie, and punish him for his awful betrayal. He would destroy everything Pure Vanilla loved; and if he had also to destroy the things Pure Vanilla held no care for, so be it.

Even his soul jam seemed to sigh as if it found this all ridiculous. He should be smarter than to face the one cookie known for crumbling all that was in his path. Yet his hands clung to the bowl with a new determination.

Okay, so his hate for Pure Vanilla cookie was no more than senseless loathing, ultimately self destructive. So what? It gave him purpose. A direction to go after the spire.

….

Sigh.

Maybe he needed to lie down again.

***

Ah, his other realm. A spacious void filled with whatever he wanted. Though it would take a lot of time and effort to rebuild the spire at this very moment, once he got his soul jam back, it would be no more than a flick of a wrist that he’d need.

For now, he could spread the darkness over the living room, and just that. His servants didn’t have to see anything, they’d likely stay in the other room until he called them to leave anyway.

For now, he could sleep on his own sofas, plush blankets and pillows in his signature blues and whites.

And there would be peace of mind.

…

At least, until that terrible light pierced his comfortable darkness. Oh, Witches.

At first, he pretended not to see it. A mere spark at the edge of his vision. But as it grew brighter, he had no choice but pay attention to it, or ignore it on purpose.

“This is a bad idea.”

Was all that echoed through his other realm. Was that stupid spark not going to start with his name? That’s what they always did. Every voice calling in the void called your name first.

“There is no point in pleasantries. I am giving you one final warning, because this is the last you will see of me for a very long time.”

He finally forced an eye open. Yep, still too bright for him. He burrowed into the pillows. “Leave me alone. I’m trying to rest.”

“I can see that. It does not change my warning.”

“Blah blah, death and destruction. I don’t care. If it fails, I’ll die, and that’s that. No point in worrying about something I can’t feel.”

The other realm shifted with sorrow as if the light was looking down on him with pity. Disgusting. “I just wish you valued yourself more.”

He straightened and turned his head towards it, his body snapping to follow a second later. “I value myself more than I’ll ever value you. More than your stupid friends, than your truth, or your knowledge. I am the most important thing in this world, because without me, everybody would be lost!”

“Is that so? Then, Shadow Milk cookie, what about you? Do you know what lies at the end of the path you’re following?”

To this, he buried himself in his pillows again. This stupid fragment of his power would not be receiving any answers from him. It was not his job to provide answers anymore. That was made clear enough.

And for what felt like a comfortable full nap, nothing bothered him. No dreams, no memories, no flashbacks or nightmares about the past.

When he woke in his other realm, his cheek rested against a new, softer fabric. Though the stuffing can’t have been the usual fluffy wool he liked so much, for it was too… scented.

Vanilla scented.

He felt as if he’d just been shot through the chest. The shock and dread ignited just slightly out of sync, leaving him that singular moment where he registered glee before dread overtook it.

And that’s when he registered the hand running through his hair, a sort of rhythm to it that was likely the reason for his comfortable nap. But for how long…?

“Please don’t get up.” That infuriatingly gentle voice said. “I’m not done.”

“Well, I am.” He hissed back. “Get out of my realm, Right. Now.” He tried to grab for the hand that was brushing his hair, but that hand pulled away and his nails poked into one of the eyes of his hair that opened in response to the loss of warmth. He flinched and that warm hand took a hold of his and guided it to rest by his face once more.

“Shhh. Please, I understand your frustrations; I have not felt too differently for the past twenty minutes, believe me.”

“I don’t.”

“Your other half was looking for you.” Pure Vanilla said as if He wasn’t the other half, “He said you missed me.”

Shadow Milk tried to scoff, but his position on Pure Vanilla’s leg didn’t let him do very much to show his annoyance. “I don’t miss you. And I won’t, when I crumble everything including you.”

Pure Vanilla hummed. It only served to infuriate him more. He didn’t believe what Shadow Milk was saying. Oh, he’d learn his lesson, soon enough.

Shadow Milk called his body to sit up. And yet, when he tried, he found his body not responding.

“What is this, some kind of spell you’ve cast to keep me in place?”

“No, I think it’s my hand; it is too warm for you to want to move away.” He said this with a knowing smile that made Shadow Milk’s jam boil. “I should make it clear that I do not intend to invade your personal space like this again unless necessary. I understand how this would be quite an overstepping of your boundaries. But the other realm belongs as much to me as it does to you; even though I prefer the real world, with all its love and cruelty.”

“Heh, still not in the mood for some sweet deceit? You’re delusional if you prefer reality to the sweet freedom of my spire.”

“Funny, I remember you saying I had to face reality. Is it because I do so with love in my heart that you are so upset by it?”

“Let go of my hand or so help me I will bring you nightmares until I crumble you.”

Pure Vanilla hummed again. Then he moved his hand to keep brushing. His eyes shut in pleasant silence. “You’re uncharacteristically under-theatric today.”

When that garnered no more than an annoyed grumble in response, he sighed and leaned back on the sofa. He mumbled something about craving tea while he continued to run his hands through the shadows of hair. A silence followed, but it was the kind of silence where there was still a conversation being had. Or more like, an understanding that Shadow Milk cookie would’ve been talking if he could will his mouth to move at all. But everything just took so much effort.

Why was this so difficult? He could already sense there wasn’t any magic at play here, and Pure Vanilla himself had confirmed such; and as little as he believed that, Pure Vanilla was too soft to lie about such a simple thing.

So instead he waited, grudgingly, his cheek still pressed against the soft fabric of Pure Vanillas robe. Maybe there was too much tension in his body, causing a shut down. Crumbs, if he could move his arm he might be able to summon a book on the side effects of stress on cookie dough. Stress? Intuitive. Yes, this was not merely sickness from spice. Some worse condition was at play here. Perhaps it was just the body Dark enchantress had made for him, not as sturdy as his original that could withstand hurricanes.

“Pure Vanilla…” His voice came out strained, and he hated it. “You’re a healer, Right?”

“Never been much else.”

“Sure… I’m kind of- stuck.” He took in a small amount of air. “I can’t move at all.”

Pure Vanilla leaned forward. “Is that so?”

“Yes. I need…” The effort he was making to ask at all left him no room to dance around it, even though he truly wished he could, “I need your help.”

The hand in his hair faltered before coming to a stop altogether. It flattened down his hair before landing on his arm. “My help?”

“Yes…” His hair hissed and shuddered as it came awake again, and now he was beginning to feel it search around for warmth. “God, you’re not gonna make me say it, are you? You cruel, despicable little cookie.”

“I’m not following… do I need to heal you?” From here he could see the soul jam glow as if searching for something. “You’re not suffering any wounds. Alas, it does seem you are… exhausted. I’m sorry, Shadow Milk cookie, I can’t undo tiredness. You need to rest.”

“Well I can’t.” He willed his arm to press on the closest physical surface. He couldn’t do much to push himself up though. “In case you’ve forgotten, I still despise you, and I’ll burn the whole world to pieces over it.” He coughed, “I only want you to do this one thing for me. Please, you can break my dough and put it back together if it makes your jam buzz.”

In response the most he got was a soft sighing before the mortifying tickle of Pure Vanilla’s hand grazed his soul jam. “There’s really not much I can do outside of exchanging my own strength for yours. But, I’ve made a bit of a promise to myself about not self sacrificing - and it’s you, Shadow Milk cookie. I fear I have yet to fully move past the hurts I endured in the spire. It wouldn’t be honorable to give you more than you’ve already taken of me.”

So his options were to lay here frozen in time until his body recovered, or to.. what, sacrifice something himself in exchange for this?

Pff. Pocket change. He could have anything he wanted, anything at all. What could a little bit of life exchange cost? “Just tell me what your price is.” He said with his wonderfully confident drawl. At least that had returned to him.

“Alright. I want you to give up on your revenge quest.”

Oh.

That.

Sick.

Son of a witch.

“No.”

“You don’t have another choice.”

“I-“ His eyes twitched as his movements made Pure Vanilla’s hand shift ever so slightly over his soul jam, “I am the one who decides what I do with my power. Once your strength becomes my strength, it’s mine until I use it all. You don’t get to tell me how to spend it.”

“Heh. Suit yourself.” He very deliberately made sure to graze his fingers over the soul jam before returning his hand to the shadowy darkness. “You can always betray me back, you know. Just that I’ll be expecting it, since I suggested it.”

A long silence stretched between them. This felt nearly like a mockery. How was he so powerless against this stupid little Shepard?

He tried with all his strength to move up, and merely managed to lay himself on his back. Guess he really had no other way out.

“Fine. Don’t prepare countermeasures.”

“Hm?”

“If you’re expecting me to betray the promise I’m about to make, why bother at all? I promise I’ll stop my little revenge quest, and I’ll go back to the spire, maybe start rebuilding it. But you have to trust me not to break the promise.”

Finally, Pure Vanilla smiled. A contented, sickening smile. “Deal.” He reached down and his palm engulfed the eye on the soul jam of deceit. The touch was electric, he could feel the warmth weave its way through his entire body. Everything went numb. Huh, maybe there Was something wrong with his dough. A headache that just disappeared, some kind of cramping in his back - and the exhaustion melted into the sweet sensation of resting.

“My my. I haven’t even started the exchange yet.” Pure Vanilla was laughing mischievously. “Are you alright, you look sort of dazed?”

“Shut up.” He mumbled. “I’m only doing this because you’re forcing me to.”

“Hm well. This won’t take long, I promise - you do have a direct place to deposit my magic, count yourself lucky.”

His hand warmed and so did everything with it. The magic tingled as it made its way through the soul jam, into his chest and right to his head first and foremost. Bright lights swirled around in his vision, and he could still see them getting brighter after closing his eyes.

His ego refused to admit how good it felt. Being light as a feather again, completely giving up his awareness. Like swimming in the river; but where the river was cooling and dark, a void where nothing had to exist in the mind, this was a warmth that enveloped him so strongly that it burnt.

Oh god.

It burnt.

Chapter Text

There were poems about poetry.

Lists of endless metaphors stacked and hidden away in “How to” guides and lesson plans scattered about the academy on the subject. How does one write poetry?

Simple, though a most Wholly unsimple craft it was.

Prose had the freedom of running on for miles. Every detail of the scene could be explained, with no regard for how many pages it spanned.

Poetry, on the other hand, liked to keep things concise. It was the pinnacle of the phrase, “a little goes a long way.”

It was a puzzle to decipher, which is why he enjoyed to read it even when all his Knowledge allowed him to understand most things off the bat. Holding all the world’s Knowledge was not the same thing as being able to apply the skills learned of learning. Poetry, really, could be anything. It was art. It was understanding. Anything.

Art, in itself, was a boundless thing.

Was the simple picture of golden swirls on white tiles enough? The blue shower curtain that had been wrinkled with the grip of the cookie who clung to it, trying with all remaining strength to cross the threshold and fall into the tub.

And what about the efforts made to scrub oneself clean? Oh, he could think thousands of poems up just from that alone. Red on red - jam replaced spice.

There were scratches and bruises and open wounds that spilled out onto the bathroom floor and left his vision on the edge of faltering forever.

But The Fount of Knowledge was stronger than that. His dough had been made to withstand such wounds - by a near fraction.

The unfortunate effort it took to drain the bath of the red water could’ve been the final straw. He kept the shower head spilling water over his face as the water drained, leaving the real extent of the damages clear - a servant might as well have found him as crumbs going down the drain.

He held onto the temperature adjuster and willed with all remaining hope and spite that the water be enchanted with his healing power. He could already feel the effect of light magic, cold and wonderful, falling down his face as his body gave in to the heavy fatigue.

When he awoke, there was still a severe burning on the right side of his face, but his arms no longer stung and what had replaced the gaping hole in his side was… scar tissue.

So, so much of it.

He lifted himself back to sitting under the water — still cold, washing down his back.

His legs had been mostly unharmed, though the one he feared was going to crumble was still cracking. Not even water could undo that. No matter, they had bandages in the tower somewhere. First aid was an important thing when your palace housed dangerous science experiments!

Despite the painful cramps in his joints, he climbed out of the bath and shut the water off.

Instantly he felt more at ease, perhaps because his magic was no longer being used.

He stumbled over to the mirror to investigate the burn on his face - and what he saw terrified him.

A spot of dough blacked to charcoal, the eye completely red as if it were jam held back by the thin film of icing, watering now that he was forcing it to use. Oh, this was worse than a simple burn.

He spun the tap to produce water as quickly as possible, filling the basin before shutting it off and putting his hands in. Soon enough it began to glow and he took a handful and brought it up to the scars.

It cooled the burn, but the ache that replaced it just kept feeling worse. It didn’t stop him.

He pushed more water up, blinking his eye to it could sink better into the icing.

Witches, what had he done?

Though his dough seemed to readjust to blue again, his eye was remaining that same sickening red.

It just wasn’t healing.

He let a sob escape as he countinued trying to water it and searched in his mind for any other healing spell to repair his eye. Nothing sprung to mind. Not even an eye replacement— wait!

His dough felt tender and raw, but if he could… No. That would hurt so much.

There was no way to replace his eye without using forbidden magic. He could buy a prosthetic, or wait and see if it would go back to normal. But to create an entirely new one would mean creating mass, and that went against the laws of physics.

No, he could use transmutation to make a new one.

But he’d never tested the idea of creating body parts before - not on himself, anyway.

So maybe he could rebake himself?

He swatted that idea away. His flavoring was too specific - a chocolate-anything cookie, sure. Plain old vanilla bean baked in, easy peasy. But Blueberry Milk? Where would one ever find a blueberry milk recipe?

Simple enough, he just needed milk and a few blueberries. But he doubted it was as simple as just squeezing one into the other. And then came the issue of dough - how could he bake his own dough? Would that not go against the witches - to make what could potentially become a Copy of himself, all for the sake of one eye?

He didn’t need a whole new cookie of course — that would be far too much effort. But he couldn’t risk burning himself more by going back in the oven just to rebake his new eye, hypothetically.

So, maybe he’d just have to steal someone’s eye. Ironic, how there now existed a phrase for that exactly. Maybe the Great Destroyer made a habit of burning people’s faces out.

His leg made a worrying crack noise and he realized the injury was spreading. Right, bandages. The eye would have to wait for another day.

He limped into his room and fell onto his bed before he shouted for help. The servant that came to him appraised him and scurried to help.

“What happened to you?” she said. The worry in her voice was like a high static, it gave him a headache.

“Meeting with the ex-Herald of change. Would you mind getting me some bandages?”

“Yes sir, right away!” She hurried away and when she returned, she had rolls and rolls. More than he thought was really necessary, but he supposed it was just in her nature to overdo it - he was so, So important to the continued success of the world, right?

Even after popping his eye, after the river, after having his body remade entirely, the tingling of that scar came back to haunt him if he ever stared too hard at something.

Sure, Pure Vanilla cookie was right. The scar was nothing more than a tattoo now. But before, he’d had to shape it that way, so as to not draw suspicion. Illusion magic, so to speak. A cheap party trick in comparison to what else he could do.

He’d once set a whole kingdom to flood because he’d made it look at if the gates were more securely locked than they really were. Another time consisted of the big evil serpent he’d let free - that was really just another grand illusion. But oh, how the cookies scrambled and ran and fought for safety.

All the trickery of the world. It was all his to shape and divine however he wanted.

Sure, he couldn’t shape mountains like his colleague, but the world of Knowledge, of the mind, of the senses - all his to do with whatever he pleased. And once he found out how to make his illusions physical - oh, that was a whole new realm of Fun!

“Let me tell you a story, Humble Plaything.” Back in the spire, the Truthless recluse followed his path through a series of winding corridors filled with self portraits. He turned them to landscapes, almost like windows looking out into other worlds. “I used to work a part time job as a strategist for this little kingdom you might see the ruins of from your own pathetic little sky-land.”

Truthless Recluse narrowed his eyes as his response.

“Yep! I’ve been where you were, seen the ruins of civilization; and caused it! For you see, this oh so sweet little kingdom that was once so mighty fell on hard times; you can probably guess how that happened, hmm?”

“War. It’s always some kind of war.”

“NOPE! Not this time. Aw, too caught up in other flashbacks, are we? Ahem, no no. This was wayyy after that other time.” They came out to a grand open space with several staircases leading in various twisting directions. “I admit, the past stretches out so so far, it’s almost dizzying to think of how long I’ve been alive! So much history I’ve yet to teach you.” Shadow Milk frolicked around the open space. “Yes, the cusp of Deceit; never knowing when or where or How! It’s all just confusion, my boy.” He spun around a lamp post and retuned with a bigger smile on his face. “For them, anyway. See, my dear minion had made the deliberate decision to let a certain rumor slip…” he smiled even harder just thinking of it. Ugh! So precious, that tiny step of the plan.

“Is it—“

“It’s not. That’s still a different story.”

“So are you going to tell me what went wrong, or..?”

“No! Of course not! But anyway, I’m the only beast involved in this tale, don’t you worry.” He gestured for them to ascend the steps that would eventually begin winding around another stair case. “While I was working as their guide to doing politics I noticed some real… bugs, let’s call them, lurking in the system. As the former Fount of Knowledge, still acting my part as the wisest, prettiest, most important cookie of all, I bided my time and reached a pretty fast conclusion that the corruption in this city ran far, Far deeper than what I should ever allow! I’m all about fairness, don’t you know?”

The Truthless Recluse blinked to hide his eyeroll. It didn’t work. “I’m sure you used to be.”

“Ohhh, Vanilly, don’t say that! Come on, I’ve let you win some of our games; and your friends are still alive without a single crack in their dough.”

“Finish the story.”

“Okay, okay. Impatient much? Ahem, so I saw the way these feeble minded individuals stumbled around their words in the meeting rooms, always talking about who owned what, where to build which thing and the costs- Ugh! The money, always so focused on the money! Who cares, it’s all just metal anyhow.” He procured a coin from nowhere and flipped it, “Heads or tails? Just kidding, it’s heads already. And that’s exactly what I took when I was done.”

This caused the Truthless Recluse to snap his head up towards Shadow Milk. “You beheaded them?”

“Hmmmmmaybe… or maybe that was a different time, before the invention of the term mind flaying. But! That’s not the point. See, with a little bit of charisma, philosophical debate and wide vocabulary, all of which I have in excess, I was able to swiftly lead them right into their very downfall! Who knows, maybe I didn’t cut their heads off; their people could’ve done the job for me! And you might be wondering what the point of me all this effort was? Ahem, well, I do say so myself that I despise wars. Or used to, as you might insist. Alas, it was always moi who was called upon to handle the technicalities. For a long time I hardly ever got to see the Fun part. So, I started bringing the fun part right into the board room. So many politicians scrambling to be the first to suggest the right solution, all the while I hang about with the key to ending the war right up here.” He pointed to his head, “I know all about the minds of cookies. So easy to decipher once you hit their weak points. If I wanted to, the territories would be all sorted.”

“But you’re wrong. You can’t always stop war.” The Truthless Recluse stood firm. “There’s something you’re refusing to acknowledge here.”

“Whhaaaat the other beasts? Pff! They’re not a part of the tale, my boy. If you wanted to hear about them, you coulda said so.”

“No.” He slammed his staff down. “But they’re part of a larger whole. Why do you always tell stories of your successes? Why do I never get to hear about the times you failed?”

Shadow Milk opened his mouth to speak but the Truthless Recluse held a hand up - and it seemed to silence his voice in an instant. “Even if you found it funny, you would never tell me the tales of your failures. And that is because you want me to believe in your Power. The strings you pull to bring cookies into the wildfire flames of another because You do not want to face that fire; you are afraid.”

“Excuse me?”

“Afraid of what you cannot control; That, Shadow Milk cookie, is why Change is your biggest fear.” He stepped forward with a sly smile, hardly any warmth left to his gaze, “You should reconsider your path before you need to replace the other eye.”

His eyes shot open and he scrambled to find his bearings; still in his other realm, on the blue and white couch, with a new low table laden with at least three empty tea cups.

“You were out for quite a while there.” And there comes Pure Vanilla, still petting his hair with a tired expression. “I’m sure you can move now, if you tried.”

“Curse you.” He managed to shifted his position on the couch and push himself back up. “What was that, some kind of memory alteration?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He took a languid sip of his Fourth cup, no less elegant. “But if you’re willing to tell me..?”

“Never. I’m leaving now.” He stepped off the couch and summoned his blueberry scepter.

“Ah, before you go-!” Pure Vanilla didn’t stand up, but he did hold onto Shadow Milk’s wrist. His lids had fallen noticeably lower, as if he were on the verge of sleep. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had… aversions to strong temperatures.”

This little gnat! He had to roll his eyes. “If you think it still bothers me, you don’t give time enough credit. Seriously, get back to ruling your peaceful little kingdom while I— I Don’t Seek Vengeance. Yeah. I’ll just go back to the forests where I’ll rebuild my spire. As promised.” He gave a cocky grin, and Pure Vanilla returned it with a pleasantly repulsive smile.

“Don’t injure what I can’t fix.” He let go and Shadow Milk opened the portal back to reality, forcing away the buzz in his dough as he did so.

As he predicted, hardly any time had passed, maybe twenty minutes at the most. His head spun a little as he tried to lower his feet to the ground and sit back down on the sofa.

He could still hear Black Sapphire talking with Candy Apple cookie; and for once he was mildly curious what the conversation could be about.

“Did you see though? He finished the whole bowl!”

“Yes, that surprised me too, Candy Apple. But it’s nothing to get excited about. As far as I’m concerned, we’ve never seen him eat - and considering how much sleeping he’s been doing as of late, I’m rather concerned for him.”

“Ugh, that’s what you’ve been saying the whole day! We get it, Saffy, you don’t believe in master Shadow Milk’s grand plan anymore.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Get over yourself.” She sounded oddly rough around the edges now. “Phew. Master Shadow Milk cookie is the strongest thing we’ve known to exist, Black Sapphire! If he cant convince the Great Destroyer to join our side, we’ll just portal out of there as usual. No hurt feelings! Besides, didn’t that Kulfi monkey mention something about him missing his soul jam?”

“Did it say that?”

“Of course, you big dodo. Back when we just got in? How could you forget that, it was less than a few hours ago!” Finally she calmed down and her eyes returned to sweetness, “How do you think she did it?”

“Ahem.” He had likely registered the eye in the corner watching the two of them go back and forth. “Our host said something about Golden Cheese cookie having defeated the beast through combat. I already know from my field work that Golden Cheese cookie is rumored to be the greediest cookie of all; She sees it, she likes it, she takes it and it’s hers forever. No doubt she would want to take the other soul jam and combine it with hers so she has maximum strength.”

“Ooo. That’s a good hypothesis! But… we saw the painting! That big buffalo had his soul jam stuck to his chest! Y’Don’t think she tore it clean off, right?”

“As I recall, the Soul Jam is not genetically engineered into him, just attached. It would be like pulling out my earrings.”

An odd pause came about the conversation. “You’re such a weirdo. Don’t say it back.”

Then he heard the sound of skipping and Candy Apple cookie poked her head through the doorway. “Ohh Master Shadow Milk! I knew you’d awoken the moment I felt your eyes on me!” She seemed oddly pleased now, as if the tears from earlier were just some water under the bridge. “Well well, I’ve changed my syrups, Saffy Taffy has his microphone back, and you look… just, Dashing!” Her eyes sparkled, “So! We should get going before the storm picks up.” She pointed to the air and kept walking. “Oh, wait! We have to thank the Kulfi!”

“Please don’t. It’s asleep, I checked.” Black Sapphire cookie finally made his appearance and cast an assessing eye over Shadow Milk cookie. “You look well rested.”

He put his arms behind his head and lounged in the air above the couches. “Oh yeah, full eight hours in my other realm. What was that about the soul jam?”

Black Sapphire nodded as if he’d been expecting the question. “You’ve heard. Burning Spice cookie is hiding out in the Nutmeg clan, due to Golden Cheese’s reawakening of her light of Abundance crashing his tomb to smithereens.”

Seems they all awakened their soul jams, hm?

“Heyyy! I was the one who was supposed to say the part about the Nutmeg clan.”

“Oh yeah, well I said it first!” Black Sapphire stuck his nose up. “Yet another W for your favorite radio host.”

“Stop, please, both of you.” Shadow Milk drawled, “Let’s get outta here. I don't know how long we’ve been here, but I’m pretty sure it’s taken up half the chapters by now.”

“…Chapters?”

“Forget it. Joke about the medium, let’s get going.” If he could allow himself to break the fourth wall a bit, roughly ten thousand words were spent building up to this point. Yes, most of that was backstory stuff. No, he did Not know what conclusion he was meant to draw out of the focus on his eye. And Maybe, Just Maybe, he would find out before the word count hit thirty thousand.

(Spoiler alert, he doesn’t.)

“Ahem, what, nothing! Scene change!”

Black Sapphire stepped into the Kulfi’s bedroom and left a small token of appreciation there; he would not say what the token was.

Probably a business card.

And then, just like that, Candy Apple was leading them in the direction of the Nutmeg clan. Her resolve had gotten oddly strong now that her tears were all shed. If she kept it up like this, he’d have to throw her an eighteenth birthday party, just to solidify her place as an independent cookie. But that could wait. For now, they traveled under the star riddled sky over sand that no longer hurt to walk on according to his servants. He still floated along. Just the thought of touching the sand made his nausea flare up.

And, Candy Apple cookie was thankfully a reliable guide, just this once; the torches in the distance proved her capability in that.

A guard high up on the tower put an arrow in their bow as the trio approached. “Who goes there!” She shouted, “Identify yourselves or be crumbled.”

“Relax, we’re here to see a friend!” Shadow Milk said, putting a casual hand on his hip, “You wouldn’t happen to have connections to a Burning Spice cookie, would ya?”

The Nutmeg clan warrior, dressed in a red tunic tightened the grip on her weapon.

“What my companion is trying to say is, we request an audience with His… Greatness, The Great Destroyer.”

His greatness, the great?

I raised you better than that.

“What makes you think you are worthy of such a high request?”

Shadow Milk cookie rolled his eyes. He twirled the blueberry scepter and floated right up to the guard. “Is the title of Beast great enough for you?” Further darkness engulfed the two of them, drowning out the warm light of the fire torches below and releasing his soul jam as the sole source of light. “Your Highness might know me as the Great Deceiver. I don’t take kindly to being underestimated.”

“Great… Deceiver?”

“Shadow Milk cookie.” He grinned, sharp teeth on full display. The guard trembled at the sight and bowed her head. “Let me and my companions through or I’ll stretch your dough and make the cookie equivalent to a brioche out of you.”

“My apologies.” She muttered. “Right ahead.”

He lowered himself and the darkness retracted. “Easy peasy. Don your disguises, we’re going to have to split up.”

He pulled Black Sapphire aside after he’d finished his transformation - perfectly on theme for spices, Surmac cookie staring up at him as he was being dragged aside.

“Are we about to speak about my past behavior?”

“Not yet.” Once he could guarantee they were out of hearing range, he turned and put his hands on Surmac cookie’s shoulders. “Do not come find me until I let you know I’m finished.”

“Ahem. What, sir?”

“If you need me, you can either fix it yourself or wait until my discussion with Burning Spice cookie is over; but if either of you interfere, it could end in the loss of all our lives.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow… sir?”

He got down with his feet to the floor and he kept his hands on Black Sapphire’s shoulders. He’d taken his mother’s exact height measurements too. Damn her long legs.

“Listen, I know you care more about her safety than you do about mine, That you made crystal clear. But if you wanna keep your heads, do not interfere with my plan: Because the moment Candy Apple stops being Your responsibility, she becomes mine - and I’m not going to stop him if he hurls an axe at her. Understood?”

“Master Shadow Milk cookie…” He seemed to understand what that meant, though it hurt him to accept. “I will do as you wish.”

By now, the unspoken words were already established between the three of them; Burning Spice cookie was not going to offer help without requesting a duel of some kind. Candy Apple cookie was so incredibly devoted to him, if she saw him hurt, she’d claw her way through a crowd to stand in his place as the executioner’s axe went down heavy.

And while he might avoid her for her longing stares and higher pitch when she spoke to him - littering in flattery as she did so - he wasn’t about to let her get caught in the flames like all the others.

Why?

Why bother to care?

If she died, that was that. No point in mourning her if she sacrificed herself for the one she ‘loved.’

But that wasn’t love. Obsession, admiration, a longing for his attention, yes. Pinpricks of guilt wove their way in when he wasn’t careful. If she died protecting him, he’d have to carry the knowledge that he never reciprocated her affections. Not for a single moment.

And he wasn’t one for playing fair, but that felt simply too cruel a fate for such a poor, vunerable little girl.

“With my life,” Black Sapphire’s stare was resolute. “I will protect hers. I live to serve your will, and-“

“Okay, okay. No.” Shadow Milk turned away, “You don’t have to say all that. We can talk this out when it’s over. Onward!”

They’d gone their seperate ways once they knew they were all in the clear for suspicion. Shadow Milk cookie hardly needed a disguise, but he donned one anyway, at least until he could slip past many tents and bonfires and wild spices telling stories or arguing over late night snacks.

It wasn’t too difficult to find the centre bonfire, where Burning Spice cookie was meditating in the middle of the flames.

And, despite all the warnings, all his time to think, upon seeing Burning Spice cookie again, his nerves flared up and he stepped forward as if he were about to present an improv of a lifetime. He could not afford to mess this up - and yet, all calculating systems went out the window as another cookie came to alert, raising her spear - some half tiger half cookie hybrid.

“Who goes there!” She said in nearly the same tone. “What business do you have in the mighty presence of the Glorious-“

“Sycophants.” He scoffed, “Seriously, Spice? After all this time, you still keep Sycophants. Your ego always prevails you.”

Burning Spice cookie roused from his slumber - and looked predictably unhappy to see Shadow Milk cookie standing below him, entirely unamused.

“Blueberry twit. What business do you have returning to these lands?”

He braced himself for this performance. “Well well well!” He put on his signature smile and raised his arms high, “if it isn’t my good old buddy pal, The greatest, hottest, strongest chili pepper around.”

“Your flattery won’t help you.”

“Awww, still sore about that Cheese thing? No no, it’s okay, I totally get it. Been there! So to speak.”

“Little scholar… what business?” He growled. Yikes, bad mood then.

“I happen to be in need of a teeny tiny favour!” He put his arms behind his back as he floated up to match their heights, “Some good old ruining of a kingdom. I know you like revenge, and I have a brilliant idea as to how you could get yours! It all starts with the ancient heroes…”

“Golden Cheese cookie is still on guard. If I strike her now, she will see it coming and defeat me a second time. Such humiliation is not worth the risk.”

“Oh, but what if you didn’t have to lose?” He jabbed a finger into the spot where the soul jam should’ve been. Hah! It really was stolen! “I propose to you a better idea; destroy My other half’s kingdom instead. That’s sure to hurt her! Especially since he’s just Sooo nice to everyone. Be a real shame if his whole world crumbled Around him.”

Burning Spice cookie raised a brow, “Your other half?”

“Pure Vanilla cookie!” He mustered up all his spite and enthusiasm as the name rolled off his tongue. It still tasted like soured cream. “That magnanimous traitor! Just when we think we have our soul jams back, they always come back to reclaim the half they stole from us, and just like that, Where Is Our Power? Ugh! It makes my jam boil!”

Burning Spice cookie bowed his head in consideration. “What is in it for me?”

Oh. Terms and conditions. How fun. He twisted around in the air with an unwavering smile. “You get the sweet satisfaction of reigning hellfire upon yet another weak, fledgling of a country.” He held a single finger up, “And it’ll feel really good to know how it hurts Golden Cheese cookie, don’t you think?”

Burning Spice cookie crossed his arms with a heavy sigh. “What’s the point of it, anyway?”

“Revenge.” His eyes narrowed, “I want to see that little cotton ball burnt to a crisp — By my own hand, of course.”

“So why did you come to me for help?” The question lingered in the air for a second, completely throwing him off balance. It was the odd stateliness of it, sounding so alike himself Before that it threw Shadow Milk cookie off guard.

“Uhh… because you are the Great Destroyer? You destroy things? And besides, it’s like you said! Your ancient hero will see your attempts against her coming from a mile off!”

If Burning Spice cookie had a bed to fall back onto, he might’ve done just that. “You’ve come in the middle of the night, blueberry twit. Let us consider this in the morning.”

“Well you see… we don’t have that amount of time.” A lie, meant to trap him into making a reckless decision, “My other half will know where I am, surely enough, by the time our conversation will be finished tomorrow. That defeats the entire point, in case that isn’t clear; I can’t have him expecting to be attacked.”

“And how would he know? Does he have a telephone line straight into your mind?” He forced his smile to stay steady, but in keeping up the act, Burning Spice cookie latched onto his silence as an answer and barked out a laugh. “Oh, you old Fool! How did I expect this to happen? You fused your soul jams and he still defeated you?”

“Well— we didn’t Fuse fuse, per se—“

“Oh, that’s too rich.” Burning Spice cookie crossed his arms again, “So then, I take it he has your power? Is that why you came to me, because you Too are rendered weakened without your precious Deceit?”

He lunged forward and was only stopped by the spear pointing at his throat. That tiger was getting on his nerves. “I’ll have you know I am just as strong as I was Before he came to my spire. I could wipe you out in an instant.”

“Oh really? Is that a challenge?”

He could hear the collective sigh of every single cookie who’d ever lived to meet him in his ears. “Oh yeah, big time.”

What had everyone said about not losing his other eye, keeping his subjects safe, keeping himself safe?

Whatever. If they didn’t trust him, it was a trivial matter. Beast of Deceit, making foolish decisions. Who else would?

Burning Spice cookie rose to his full, imposing height and brandished his parashu, forming the axe blades around it. “Then let us fight it out! Prove yourself a warrior, Scholar!”

That taunt cut into him hard, and he gritted his teeth and formed them into an ugly sneer. “God, I have waited centuries to take Your eyes out! Let’s see how you like it!”

Chapter Text

If you asked Black Sapphire cookie to tell you his opinion on speaking the truth, he would ask where the Fun was in it. Deceit, as his master had always told him, was always the easier option; it allowed for limitless possibilities. Black Sapphire cookie did not value the truth. At all.

So when asked by his own master to keep Candy Apple cookie safe, he had to swear on something more important than just his half-broken trust - even though he’d been shut down when he tried to put his life on it.

Did Master Shadow Milk cookie know? He must not have cared - Black Sapphire Cookie did not keep promises for anybody. And even if he did, it always had more to do with himself than the other person.

His traitorous nature had brought him this far. And it would only bring him further now, he supposed with a glare at the scared watch-tiger. 

Once he and Candy Apple cookie had separated from their master, he allowed some time from them both to look around before getting back on his usual behavior; the microphone was in his hand before he knew it. “Say, how do we like a few rumors to pass the time?”

“Oh, Black Sapphire cookie…”

“You know what they say; nothing better than bit of fun gossip to make the hours tick by!”

And while the commercials roll, this dear Cookie will take the audience Back to the kulfi hut, which he promises will be the very last time a scene is played there. Seriously.

After Candy Apple cookie had finished her sob fest on the couch, she came to sit across from him at the dinner table. Her frown was less shaky now, eyes filled with resolution instead of trembles. 

“We still have to follow him to the end.”

He was about to roll his eyes, though he didn’t plan on offering any more response than that until she continued, “You were right; He might destroy himself and us too. But if we don’t follow him out there, he’s going to do it alone; and if he crumbles in the arena, it might as well be us crumbling with him. We don’t have anywhere else to go but to follow him.”

Now this caught his attention. “You think they’ll fight?”

Her eyes widened and she scoffed as if he’d just insulted her mother. “Don’t play dumb, Of Course they’re going to fight! That what we’ve been Building Up To! It’s Burning Spice cookie we’re talking about, I’d be more surprised if they came to an agreement diplomatically. But you Know they’re not gonna do that! That’s why we need to be there; you’ve said before he’s in a bad state, and I finally agree. So if this goes badly, we need to be there so we can drag him out with all our lives in tact.”

Black Sapphire considered her words, nodding along the whole time. “I hate to say it, but you make a good point. An excellent point. You really ought to use that brain of yours for all it can do.”

“Are you calling me stupid?”

“I’m calling you undervalued in your work.” Though, he saw how it could be misconstrued as an insult. He had a habit of calling her stupid. “You act childish, you look childish; but when the right moment comes, you can be quite a smart cookie. I know you have it in you to be more than a creepy little girl serving the greatest trickster in the world, so why do you hold yourself back?”

She held back a breath and slumped her shoulders, “You don’t actually believe I’m smart. Nobody thinks that. If they did, master would give me more jobs like you do.”

“Where the audience can see me? You know there’s a reason he places me in the spotlight, right-“

“Right. It’s your talent. And mine is working in the shadows.” She put her elbows on the table and leaned on them, “But all the stuff you do seems so important. Meanwhile I’m stuck doing the things nobody appreciates.”

“I… We do.” He wasn’t sure why he was playing along with her pity party; if this was all a ploy for him to apologize, he could sense it in her pout; which still wasn’t as good as his, by the way. “Trust me, it’s only because you look for Shadow Milk cookie’s attention that you feel so forgotten; not that he forgets you, just that he doesn’t…”

He paused to consider whether he wanted to open that can of worms. It wasn’t invisible to him, the dynamic between Candy Apple and their master. He too had taken his master’s side in it before. She was quite clingy. But now was not the time to point that out.

“Hm?”

“Forget it. Point is, sometimes you need to stop expecting people to tell you they like your work before it can really flourish; that’s how I became a radio show host; I just wouldn’t stop talking, and eventually I got really good at it, even though it probably really annoyed everyone around me. Think on it; what’s something you enjoy and are good at; I for one think you are an excellent guide. Maybe that’s where your talent lies.”

“Leading people….?”

He squinted and glanced at the doorway. “You’ll figure it out. Has anybody checked on Shadow Milk cookie?”

“I’ll-“

“No, I’ll do it.” He got up from his seat and the conversation ended there.

—-

They scrambled hand in hand to the scene of the fight; indeed, Candy Apple had dragged him with surprising force back to the middle of the camp, all while he refused and reassured her that their boss would be alright. She didn’t believe that for a second, and at least needed a front row seat to the fight in case it wasn’t going his way; if he crumbled they would be at the mercy of all the spices in this place, including the Great Destroyer. For her, that was a risk they could not take. 

So, feeling he owed her this favor above his loyalty to Shadow Milk cookie, he allowed her to push through the crowds and into the bubble to where the battle was happening.

The usually red sandstone was replaced by a grand stage of his signature theme. The curtains were blackened and melted. Singed and broken marionettes and cardboard puppets littered the area. Burning Spice cookie was strung up by what could only be thousands of threads. Everytime he snapped one, several more would appear to replace it. Shadow Milk cookie on the other hand, raised his arms wide as his booming a voice raised yet another question. “Imagine you had all the power in the world right at your fingertips, only for it to be taken away again a split second later - How would you feel?”

“Vengeful,” answered the Great Destroyer. “I would want to destroy that which wronged me.”

Shadow Milk twirled in the air, bending backwards. “Then why does it seem So out of the ordinary for me to ask you for help in exacting such revenge?”

“Because you are not somebody who wants help.” He glared at Shadow Milk cookie. “You want to get back at me for what I did in the past.”

The words didn’t hit Shadow Milk cookie visibly, but his smile twitched ever so slightly, imperceptibly; a tick only his servants could recognize. Burning Spice cookie had hit a nerve. Hard.

“Oh, look at you, recalling things. Here was thinking you wanted no past and no future!” He brought up more marionettes, based on the other beasts, “Well go on then? What’s so special about my request that it leads you to believe it has anything to do with the others?”

Burning Spice cookie snapped more strings, though his efforts proved futile. “This is not about sense! If you were sensible, you would not be asking for my help!” 

“And Why?!” His tone shifted to anger in an instant. “I didn’t come here to torment you, Spice! I don’t care about what you did to Mystic Flour Cookie, I just need your help for this one thing! Then we can go back to not being friends again!”

Burning Spice cookie motioned with his head, and some crowd member lifted their arm to prepare a throw - of what, neither Candy Apple nor Black Sapphire could be sure, but it fired and hit Shadow Milk’s chest, a red whirlwind engulfing him. 

They heard his frustrated scream as he attempted to dispel the cloud that blinded and likely seared his vision.

“Crumbs.” Black Sapphire muttered. “More spice.”

“Yeah, duh! We need to get in there and help!”

“No!” He held her shoulders, “Not yet.”

She looked like she was going to offer up a response before the cloud exploded into ink and splattered across the space within the bubble, some of the audience crying out at the strange slime now covering their faces. 

“Funny trick, I sure do love audience participation! But this is where your little game ends.”

He twirled his staff and pointed it, magic surging through it. But he was too late. Burning Spice cookie had broken through the thousands of strings binding his arms. There were tiny scratches where the strings had cut into him, but he seemed to ignore them entirely, summoning back his axe. “My turn to have fun, blueberry twit!” And in the next moment he teleported behind Shadow Milk cookie, kicking him off balance and sending him hurtling to the ground. “I hope your servants enjoy this show!” He plummeted down, sticking the bladeless Parashu into Shadow Milk cookie’s side like a fork through jelly-ham. The familiarity of the sensation made his body freeze and he was tossed against a wall, an ugly crack sound bouncing off the dark walls. He slumped against the darkness, and when his eyes had refocused, he slid into the shadows to dodge the next attack, reforming a few meters away. He was clutching his side, his breath coming in labored gasps.

“Is it bad enough for us to intervene yet?” Candy Apple yelled over the noises of the crowd; cheering for their own master, The Great Destroyer.

“Uh. I don’t know. What can we even do?” Black Sapphire looked back to her and saw her face filled with a mix of rage, shock and uncertainty. “You have any Aces up your sleeves?”

“I don’t have sleeves - but yeah, I had an idea while you two were talking.”

Did she hear?

Ugh, what a big doozy this whole situation was.

“See, I knew someone was going to start a fight so — I made a plan! But you have to trust me.” She yanked Black Sapphire down and whispered the plan in his ears. Trust was putting it lightly. 

“That’s absurd, you’re putting so much risk on yourself!” He shouted once she was finished explaining. “What if he gets to you before-“

“Then I’ll crumble. Or, maybe he’ll keep me as a pet. But you’ll be safe, and so will he!”

Black Sapphire had to pull a hand down his face. “Master made me promise you Wouldn’t sacrifice your life to save his; I can’t disobey him again after today!”

“And you really care that much?? You’re already a big! Fat! Traitor! Who cares, Sapphire, just go!!!!”

She pushed him away as the crowd raged on, “If everything works as planned, we can both make it out; TRUST ME!” 

She started running before he had another moment to lose trying to convince her otherwise.

So be it. He was going to be in so much pain later when Shadow Milk was recovered from this fight. If he recovered from this fight.

Burning Spice cookie was aiming his axe for a stage light overhead; he was going to crush Shadow Milk cookie beneath it!

Trust me.

Okay, he could do this.

Candy Apple cookie rounded the arena and climbed over the railing to be inside the fight-zone. She hopped onto a pile of crates yet to be smashed to bits and tore an apple off her head; she aimed and threw it at the Great Destroyer's head, and was already dashing off to the other side of the arena before she could guarantee it to hit.

The axe was already flying out of his hand by the time the apple reached him, crashing into the back of his skull and causing him to stumble forward. He growled and looked around for the source. 

It was while he was distracted by Candy Apple cookie’s trick that Black Sapphire took his opportunity. He used his bat wings to soar across the arena onto the stage, reaching out with his mic to blast the stage light apart before it could-

A blinding flash of light erupted from Shadow Milk’s scepter, or that’s what it looked like, and the stage light crumbled to smoke and ashes. 

With no time to question How, Black Sapphire landed on the stage and yanked Shadow Milk cookie to his feet by his collar; there was a serious gash in his side, his leg was twisted the wrong way and there was jam leaking out of his eyes; the ones in his hair, thank the stars. Though his real ones appeared again to be dripping from spice. A memory pounded in the back of his mind, but the noise above it was too much for it to register as more than a silky whisper; they needed to get out of here first.

“Saffy… what are you doing?” He said, and then repeated with more frustration once he registered that he wasn’t dreaming. 

“Came to save you, sorry. She’s too persuasive, couldn’t let us be stranded at that big red dickhead’s mercy.”

“Is Candy Apple here too?!” Now he sounded downright pissed. “You little-“

“No time, make a portal out of here.” He grabbed for the sceptre and Shadow Milk did not put up a fight this time. “Please, bring us far from this place.” 

Burning Spice cookie laughed from where he stood. “Now this is interesting! Your servants come to your rescue.” He summoned his axe back into his hand, “I’ll have fun crumbling two birds with one stone.”

“Not if I can help it- Kyah!” Candy Apple appeared just in time, throwing the other apple stick and hitting him over the head with it: though this time it crashed into smithereens and she had no escape.

The portal opened in the next moment. “In, In, In!” Black Sapphire pushed Shadow Milk cookie through to the other side - he wasn’t even sure what was on it yet, because he was busy looking back to reach for Candy Apple cookie in the crowd. 

A scream erupted from the left - one of the wings on her dress was torn clean off, no doubt by a wild spice in the audience. “Sapphire, help!” She reached out for him, though they were too far to take each others’ hands. 

He reached out with the scepter, but Shadow Milk cookie’s blue claws wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him back. 

“Close the portal!”

Burning Spice cookie laughed as he glanced between the two sights - Candy Apple cookie, cowering on the sidelines and Black Sapphire being dragged back through the portal by his injured master. He had a split second choice to make. 

He saw the desperation in all their eyes and lunged for the portal.

“Close it, close it!”

“I promised-“

“Fuck your promises, Close the damn portal!”

Shadow Milk tore the staff from his hands and closed the portal by himself, leaving nothing of the world of heat and strong scents.

Then the both of them fell to their knees, gasping in the cold air. The rush of his jam kept him sweating while he tried to force back the guilt and nausea building in his throat. She’d called out to him. And he’d failed her. Failed master Shadow Milk cookie, again.

Before he knew it, he was shaking. Shivering. Shivering?

He cast a glance to his new surroundings, eye-stinging white engulfing every single surface, and tall trees sprouting up and zig-zagging in and out. The light of the moon had never been clearer. 

This was the Dark Cacao Kingdom. 

And it was deathly silent. 

And finally, the angry sobs of his master came back into mind. Shadow Milk cookie was doubled over, wincing and shaking just like he’d been before the sights stunned him.

“Master Shadow Milk?”

Nothing.

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could muster before another wave of guilt erupted. He reached out a hand to… what? Comfort the beast of deceit? That’s what he was - a beast. 

One who had lost to another, despite having more power. And in those trembling, thankfully still-whole eyes, there were tears. Burning tears that streaked down his cheeks and left visible lines through the thin veil of spice on his face. “You failed again.”

He opened his mouth to speak and was silenced by the clenching of his master’s fist around his staff, pinned to the floor by his hand.

“Don’t.” He gritted out, “Don’t talk. Find wood for a fire. Don’t come back until you’ve achieved that, Black Sapphire Cookie.”

Chapter Text

The Fount of Knowledge didn’t need fancy opening lines today, just a lot of trust within himself. 

It had taken a mere three days before the itch, the sting, the odd tightness of his eye had driven him to begin lashing out at servants, including black sapphire.

And if he was falling so far as to mistreat his own son after swearing on his life that he would raise the boy better than Eternal Sugar would’ve, he had to do something about the source of the frustration, and Fast.

Turns out, he didn’t need more dough, just a whole lot of Jam, Eye-cing, and some kind of metal object. He decided on a fork, since it was the least suspicious thing to bring up to his bedroom. 

The icing was simple enough; he knew the truth behind how cookies were Made, perhaps not yet their purpose, but a simple fusion of water and powdered sugar obtained through bribery with a sugar cherub, and he was set. He’d brought along blueberries just in case. 

As for the jam… that step required him to trade in his ethics, just a tiny bit. 

But one constant of the world was that cookies would do anything if they were desperate enough to get what they wanted; and he wanted this ugly bubble pearl stuck in his eye socket Gone. 

So since he was already reeling from his own Jam loss, he would have to find a cookie with matching jam.

And he could’ve gone to a donor for this, really it wouldn’t have made a difference; but he failed to consider this in his desperation, his focus on the final goal.

He could’ve also asked one of his students, since everyone on his side of the world worshipped him, and would give their entire supply of jam for a star sticker of approval. And he nearly went with that option, barring the safety concerns. There was always a risk that his donor had a disease that would destroy him further, that their immune system was never aware of.

He needed someone that would be sterilized completely.

Fire sterilized things pretty fast.

So he went back to the scene of the massacre. A big rock now stood in the middle of the town where there was once a statue; and inscribed on it were the names of the fallen. The list went all the way around the pillar, ending somewhere near the middle on each side. Seems they had multiple people doing this.

He turned his attention to the wreckage of debris and crumbs scattered on the once beautiful mosaic floors that the town had - which in some places now had huge cracks and potholes. The cliff overlooking the main centre of the town was still much the same, but the vines trailing down had been burnt away and a sector of the rock had fallen and beneath it were… crumbs. 

A new wave of nausea swept over him and he held it back - what had Black Sapphire said about fevers? Witches be damned, he had to find a suitable match.

And maybe it was because the remains of the population in this village were already mostly dying - or maybe it was because the heat would’ve sterilized any wounds - but he found he couldn’t bear Not to take it from here. A souvenir of a town that would be hit again, should its old ruler feel up to it.

When he made it to the outskirts of the destruction, the houses mostly intact if not for the cracks or holes, he began knocking. 

Logically, nobody in this place would have his jam type, he knew that. But even if he couldn’t find anybody, at least the hopes of the people would be restored.

They all greeted him in, or bowed in their doorways, or begged and pleaded for help or mercy. None of them mentioned the bandages over his eye. 

And none of them had blueberry jam in their cookie bodies. 

…

Until he found a family that did.

A young cookie, age of eight, leg broken clean off and coughing up spice like he had tubercu-dough-sis. He wasn’t long for this world.

But, as the fount of Knowledge, he had a duty to fulfill. He leaned down to the boy and said a prayer. And then, he asked if he could take the boy back with him, for he might be able to save the poor boy. The family wept and allowed him to carry him out onto the streets. He made sure to return to the pillar.

He asked the boy’s name and wrote it down in gold - right next to the rest of his fallen family.

The ink sank in and it was indented into the stone.

Forgive me, Witches.

Turns out the young ones had more jam in them than he first thought. 

A good bucket’s worth, as sickening at it was to see and smell it in his bathroom. 

He stood in front of the sink scrubbing the fork desperately. 

A new moon was rising over earthbread, when his light magic would be at its weakest - but forbidden dark magic always seemed to be at its strongest.

While he was pouring over every book he’d ever written or read about the moon and its magical properties, he had realized that light magic didn’t heal his eye.

And it mightn’t have been a full moon that night, but if he couldn’t do it on a regular day, it was improbable that a full moon would make a difference. 

So, he opted for the dark side of the moon tonight.

As the inventor of magical teachings, he knew every word and had practiced every spell a thousand times. This time he would have to get creative and combine his light magic tricks with the dark moon magic he’d discovered. Use the runes as his template and see what happens when they’re infused with a bit of darkness. 

And he would have to be quick about it.

Once he could half assuredly say he’d washed the fork beyond cleanliness, he raised it to his eye. In his reflection, both eyes blinked curiously at himself, as if this wasn’t about to be pain beyond cookie comprehension. 

And he had tried using numbing spells on himself. As it turned out, the numbing spell worked wonders on everybody else; Including that boy. But whatever kind of burn this was, the numbing affects only did so much before he could feel it again, in a new and much more disturbing way. He could feel it in disgusting detail every time his eye moved against his eyelid. Or the bandages against it. The jam swishing around- ugh! He needed to be rid of this thing!

So, with a deep breath, he braced himself and pulled his arm back before pushing the fork through his eyelid and screaming as he felt it pierce the thin veil of icing keeping all the jam from spilling out.

What happened after that was all a blur - literally. But his hands continued to move and his mouth continued to say the words of the spell - he had invented it, so he was certain it would work. 

There most certainly was jam everywhere over the sink and the floor. But his mind was trained on finishing the spell with all the ingredients by his side.

Eventually, a bright light was in his vision, swirling around and coming to gather in his now empty eye socket. Well, maybe the bright light was from the ceiling, the magic itself was pitch black after all. It stung and burnt and itched but he could feel a new weight come in and a creepy tightness as the final details reformed; lid, lashes and finally the tear ducts.

He was crying when the spell’s magic faded. Bent over the sink with the tap running. 

But he could see again; blurry, but he could see.

He washed out the excess of whatever was stuck to his new eye; jam and tears, probably. 

When he looked into the mirror he was staring at a new colour; neon blue, a tiny ring of white around his black pupil, matching his other eye where a black ring surrounded his white pupil. Well, the black ring was new, no doubt a result of the dark magic. But everything else remained the same. The scars on his face had faded even more. All it took was a bit of child sacrifice. Hm!

Black sapphire rushed to knock on the door and enter, catching him staring into his new eye with befuddled curiosity.

“Master… Is everything alright?”

“You know you’re still my son, right? You don’t have to call me that.”

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

“No, don’t worry about it.” He raised a hand to his face and ran a finger over his lash line. Wow. He was a genius. Nearly like he’d never lost the eye in the first place. 

An impressed smile spread on his face, growing wide as he tilted his head to see his pupils following his movements again. “Do you think people will tell?”

“Hmm?”

He turned to black sapphire, “I think I’ve just crossed a line in my research; And I cannot wait to find out how far the new world expands before me.”

Chapter Text

The Vanilla kingdom’s skies were usually clear by proxy of it being above cloud level. Today however, it rained. A calming pitter patter greeted Pure Vanilla cookie when he woke from his slumber. The cold weather outside contrasted the warm softness of his duvet, and he was thankful for once that nothing was expected of him today; nor was there any distractions to his mind. He allowed himself to lay in for so long the rain was gone by the time he decided he was ready to crawl out of his room and tiptoe to the kitchen.

He really didn’t need to sneak around his own castle. It was simply a habit he’d picked up from the spire; if the stairs heard you going up or down they would begin to move in the wrong direction, leaving you to have to make a lot of noises for several forty five degrees rotations, and then the other inhabitants of the tower would come complaining about losing beauty sleep.

He’d taken an odd kind of pride in being able to wake all three of them from what seemed like deathly sleep; he recalled finding himself in Black Sapphire cookie’s “bedroom,” where he was sleeping like a bat hanging from the ceiling, wrapped in his dark purple blanket; on theme, even when he was resting.

Candy Apple cookie owned a little coffin but logically it couldn’t fit her massive lollipops so he suspected she never used it.

Shadow milk cookie, his biggest noise complaint enthusiast, never ever slept. This wasn’t theory, it was not conjecture, he had actually checked every room for a bed or a coffin or even a pool of water. In his searches he’d even found a little room with no floor where shadow milk cookie was falling infinitely; passing the doorway multiple times before spotting that he was being watched and teasing Pure Vanilla cookie for how shocked he looked.

Upon being questioned, shadow milk cookie crossed his arms and pouted. “Was it not fun for you last time you fell from the the top of my spire? It’s riveting, in my opinion, so I decided to recreate the experience. Wanna try?”

“Not particularly.”

“Too late! BOOP!” He hit Pure Vanilla cookie’s leg and it gave out, falling down into the infinite abyss. It wasn’t any less terrifying this time around, but shadow milk cookie seemed to find it hilarious. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been falling for until he hit the ground - soft and grassy, and a night sky hung over him.

“I’m bored of watching you go round and round, so how about we play a game?”

Another game… “Do I get a choice in this?”

“Glad you asked! Eheh, No.”

⁃

There were days where he would miss the rumble of the staircase, waking him and everybody up in the middle of the night. Nobody ever complained when Candy Apple cookie did it, but perhaps that’s because she was doing it to annoy black sapphire cookie; the only one who ever got a proper amount of sleep, due to the fact that he took naps when there was nothing needed of him.

Pure Vanilla cookie did a similar thing now he was back in his kingdom; taking back the hours of rest that were stolen from him. His friends had all agreed to meet next Friday, in the hollyberry palace, and so he decided he would need to catch up on as much rest as possible while he still had the chance.

Unfortunately in doing so he also frequently forgot to eat one of the daily meals. It was usually breakfast; mornings were so busy most days. 

Then there was the issue of his beast; going to the burning spice desert, landing in the dark cacao kingdom; Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t have many places to run now, and he feared he would have to write a notice to dark cacao cookie about the beast entering into his citadel, just in case.

Though his body looked to be too injured for him to cause much damage; and he had already used by the last of his borrowed strength to heal the worst of it. It simply made no sense, as Shadow milk cookie’s actions often hadn’t. Reaching across the tether to watch him was often Pure Vanilla Cookie’s only hobby when all his work for the day had been delegated to servants, and when he felt too weak to do any physically demanding hobbies. He still tended to the garden as usual, took an afternoon tea in his favourite cafe and wrote love letters to his friends that he would never send, but when the silence of his room became too much, he would hop into the mind of his other half just to see what kind of chaos he was causing that day.

He couldn’t tell that to any of his friends, so he even drafted a few statements on a loose sheet of paper that he would say if he ever let that little factoid slip. 

Suddenly he understood why the light of deceit put him under such constantly surveillance before.

In a similar fashion to his love for people watching as he sipped away at a steaming cup of the newest flavour of tea, seeing the journey of the deceitful cookies was actually rather engrossing. So much high stakes drama, it was like watching a scene from a novel play out in real time. 

It was raining again. As he searched around the castle for an umbrella he wondered if shadow milk cookie had ever tried to reach across the tether himself within the last few days; he certainly couldn’t recall any changes within the air around him. He used to feel it when the eyes of the deceiver were watching him; not having them on him right now left a strange feeling - the opposite of wariness, but no less unsettling.

But he would grow used to this return of his autonomy, what a pleasure it would be, not having to step on eggshells to avoid… It All.

He ran by a mirror to check the state of his hair before leaving - since it had gotten longer, he’d needed to start taking closer care of it. A new part of his routine he happily accepted, as difficult as it may have been to keep up with. 

Finally, he headed out to the streets of the city to see if his favourite cafe was open on a day such as this.

The rain didn’t stop some of the cookies; he was not the only one carrying an umbrella. Groups of students still hunched together under awnings chatting away. The cafe was no different. Though most of the inhabitants were sitting inside, he decided to stay outside under the cover of the cafe umbrellas. The seats were wet, but a member of staff came out with towels to dry off a seat for him and lit a little candle. 

“What awful weather this is, right? It never rains in the Vanilla kingdom.”

“I’m sure it is simply a result of the changing seasons. Once these clouds clear up, there will be plenty of flowers down below with blooming cheerful colours. We simply need to wait.”

The staff member seemed to grow lighter on their feet. “Huh, I guess you’re right.”

There used to be a saying; it never rains in the Vanilla kingdom because Pure Vanilla Cookie took sunlight with him everywhere he went. 

While he certainly liked to feed into it, it was nothing more than a silly rumour, one he liked nonetheless. He might’ve been able to produce miracles every day, but he had little control over the weather. 

He was sure if he wanted to, he could guide the clouds to part on a particular spot of land, for some dramatic flare. But nothing more than that simple trick was in his range of magic. 

Although, nothing was impossible; just highly improbable and perhaps sometimes ill advised. That was another phrase he’d taken from his time at the spire. 

He was still the same cookie as always, yet he couldn’t deny his experiences had certainly influenced him just a little. 

After all, he carried memories of all his adventures; why chose to forget this one, just because it hurt so much?

The painful memories held no less value than the one that inspired hope.

The rain began clearing as soon as he finished his tea, leaving an opening for him to walk back to the castle in the shining light of day.

Perhaps he did bring sunlight everywhere he went. Then, the Hollyberry celebration would be quite fine indeed.

Returning home, he found himself rather hungry. Thankfully the servants were still in the castle, and he requested vegetable soup for himself before taking a walk around the castle. Despite wearing no shoes, he had no trouble hearing his footsteps on the tiles. 

He’d made it a signature of his never to wear shoes  in the Vanilla kingdom, as they were far too restricting, so he only wore them if the environment demanded it; Snow in dark cacao tundra, sand in the cheese desert, various types of bush or flower in the hollyberry kingdom. He had a few books in his personal library on plants in the hollyberry kingdom to help with that. 

He’d left it a mystery on purpose back in the spire.

“Do you think he wears shoes under that big gown of his?”

“I think it would be unmannerly to speculate.”

“Oh come oooon! He’s always walking around when he’s not with master shadow milk cookie. I feel like I’ve seen him walk around the whole thing by now.”

“That’s impossible, the spire is infinite.”

“Not impossible,” he said, “just highly improbable - and ill advised.”

“Uh oh, folks, it seems our mysterious contester has shown himself.” Black sapphire shoved the microphone in his face, “Well, any clarifying statements to make?”

He glared at the pair, “who knows, maybe I also float a few inches off the ground and you can’t see it because my gown is covering it?”

Candy apple cookie gasped. “Quick, disrobe him!”

“Well, you heard it here- ah, what did you just say?”

His memories of the spire were heavy and unpleasant, but he chose to remember as many positives as he could. Every now and again he would have a nightmare about falling and in the dream his understanding would be that nobody was ever going to grab his hand to catch him regardless of whether he hit the ground or not. 

When relaying his doubts to his friends once, Dark cacao cookie had told him that no matter what, he had to keep fighting. It was the best thing he could do, and it was also the Only thing he could do. 

It was no surprise Dark Cacao managed defeating the beast of apathy; his resilience was unmatched by any. 

The same went for all his friends; Their passion, courage and determination lead them all to defeat their greatest foes yet; Now they were bound to reunite in the course of only a few days. 

He needed to assign someone to water his flowers while he was gone.

In the meantime, there were deceitful cookies to be watching over. 

Chapter Text

Thousands of things could have happened in the span of the next few hours.

Out of all them, Shadow Milk found himself wishing the sun would rise faster. Ironic, for a being whose inner world was permanently clouded in darkness, to wish for the sun’s light to stream through and a new day to start. But it just wouldn’t.

So instead, he perused over the recall of what had happened in the space of that early morning.

Black Sapphire had left to go find wood for a fire like he was told. In that hour, he took in the cold air, used the last of the borrowed strength to temporarily close his wounds, screamed a fair bit and thrashed around. He could also remember strangling something or someone, but it wasn’t entirely clear who that somebody had been, because in the next moment after that, Black Sapphire was back with an armful of sticks and branches, and Shadow Milk was staring into the dark nothingness of the tree line, mouth agape like he’d just seen the witches pop a Cookie in their mouths for the first time again. All of this was accompanied by a painful ringing in his ear.

Black Sapphire had gathered a few stones to outline a fire pit and used the sparks off a branch Shadow Milk Cookie couldn’t even remember firing at to start the first twig alight, throwing it into the fire.

And then they sat, and from the moon’s position in the sky he could conjure that it was around three in the morning.

All the words he wished to say had bubbled around in his jam, which still leaked out of his side like sap from a tree. Dark Enchantress Cookie was at least smart enough to equip this body with unfathomable amounts of jam; maybe even make the body replenish jam by itself.

Oh, how did Cookie logic work anymore! It’s all blood anyway!

“You disobeyed me.” He started. He deliberately kept his gaze on the purple fire burning before them. Must have been a chemical in the branches that did that. Better than seeing red again, anyway. He’d had enough of warm colours.

He wasn’t expecting Black Sapphire Cookie to apologize again. He’d already done so thirty seven times tonight, all while getting the fire started.

“I told you not to interfere.” He continued. “And you still did it. Tell me boy, are you deliberately trying to sabotage me?”

Black Sapphire sat there guilt written all over his stupid face. All the while, he let Shadow Milk Cookie go on.

“And of all the times you could’ve chosen to come to my rescue, you chose the time where I was making myself look weak on purpose to catch him off guard!”

“No you weren’t.” Black Sapphire mumbled quietly.

“Ahem, What was that?”

“You were injured. I had a choice to make; Save you and lose your trust forever; or let myself and Candy Apple Cookie remain stranded in the desert, likely at the mercy of our foe until we crumbled or worse. I had my priorities set on what you told me to do; keep her safe.”

“I told you to keep her out of the Arena! It’s the spice desert, you weren’t safe regardless of where you stood; but I could’ve handled this whole thing by myself if you had-“

“Could you?” Black Sapphire interrupted, “Oh, I’m sorry. It looked to me like you were about to get crushed to death; and what was your plan? Leave us to the whims of the wild spices?”

“Maybe I should’ve!” He put a hand on his soul jam, trying to steady himself and return to the trickster facade, “You know me, I’m an entertainer! That’s what I do, I wait for the right moment to make the most grandiose of plot twists occur! But what’s your reasoning, hm? Forget your purpose as my sidekick, did you now?”

Black Sapphire paused and bowed his head.

That’s right, you don’t have an excuse.

A silence settled on the two of them, probably heavy for Black Sapphire. Shadow Milk Cookie was cozy enough to stay in it forever. When he raised his head again, his voice was soft as the snowfall. “You never told me what happened to you back in the spire.” He said, “And you still haven’t. Would that solve any of our conundrums?”

Honestly, no. It wouldn’t. 

Why was he even entertaining this conversation? He should have turned Black Sapphire to crumbs by now. But his arms stayed hugging his chest, too cold, too injured, Too Weak.

“Some conundrums don’t want to be solved.” He said instead. “If I told you what happened, it probably wouldn’t fix anything.”

“Master….” Why was he still calling him by that name! “I won’t turn my back on you.”

Ironic. “You’re a little ahead on that account.”

Black Sapphire nodded. “You really have nothing to lose in telling me.”

He groaned; and even that hurt to do. A wave of exhaustion washed over him. “Whatever. Go to sleep, Black Sapphire. It’ll all be clearer when the sun rises.”

He really hadn’t meant to dismiss his servant like that. He just couldn’t keep himself awake anymore.

So he escaped into the inky comfort of the other realm once more. Here the temperature was his to control, and he chose to make the air cold, but not the sort of cold that seeped into his dough like the forest. Here it was the kind of ice that one could only dream of falling into after a hot day. And oh, how he relished in it.

If he could produce a pool of it, he might’ve; but even his magic in the other realm was weakened. Oh sparks. Now his eyes were judging him for his failure, disappointment bubbling up in the belly of the monster he should’ve been.

Oh great, this again.

The beast stood before him.

If he looked down at his sleeves, he would see gold and white, and he knew this because he’d often find himself in dreams, facing one or the other. The shadow or the sage. And it was usually the sage. What a surprise, to be on the other end for once.

“He has been faltering.”

“Oh great beast, do not say that! He’s simply awaiting another opportunity.” The sage didn’t believe this for a second, surprisingly. Or maybe that was his own doubts clouding the sage’s real feelings.

Hah! Real feelings? He wasn’t even real, just some persona borne of the remnants of truth within deceit. His only purpose was to be a teacher persona and provide the occasional truth.

“Do you hear that? Now he wants to believe we are not real. He really has lost it.”

“And I question you, great beast; why do you speak truths, if your heart doubts? Shadow Milk Cookie is simply low on his power.” But he felt the sage relent a little bit, “Admittedly, there is not much hope for any normal Cookie to find in this situation; but Shadow Milk Cookie is much more powerful than a normal Cookie. Have faith, despite your nature O great wolf of masterful trickery. He will prevail, even if he must be changed.”

Changed?

The beast spoke his question for him, “What kind of change do you envision for him, speaking as the last remnants of his truthful nature?” He seemed to ask this ironically, as if no matter the answer, it was all the same; “There is no answer to that question that can satisfy your pointless needs to see him walk towards the light; there is only darkness in this void, and there only will be darkness when you are gone.”

The sage put his hands behind his back and bowed forward, “Well, I can’t spoil the end of the story, that would ruin the message embedded into it! Believe me, I’ve tried to rush, and it never lands right if you do that, you must let the pieces of the puzzle fall when they want to.”

The beast blew a breath through his nostrils. The ever-doubting, disbelieving. Only assured within himself. There was no trust to be given to anybody, only to be taken from him. Only to steal from other Cookies.

That was his real self, it had to be. So why did he see himself inside the sage tonight? Was this Pure Vanilla’s doing?

“He will return to this nature of deceit. Even when you beg and pray for his well-being, his safety, his Redemption, he will return. Even when you think he has no reason to, when all the Cookies have placed their trust in him again, he will betray it.”

The sage of truth did not falter. “Why do you think that?”

“It is the only path, spark of Truth. Even if he tries to return to his old self, the balance will force him back; or the other forward, into darkness.”

Finally the sage raised himself back to full height. He looked no less scrawny and breakable, but the lights of his eyes disappeared when his eyes lidded. “If that is how it shall be, then let it be. The Natural order of the world is nothing more than a guideline, but if he wishes to follow it like you say, I won’t stop him from continuing to suppress me; but you know you are nothing without me.”

-

Cold. It was freezing.

This wasn’t the regular temperature of his other realm, but it also wasn’t the piercing cold of Dark Cacao. This was the icy water of despair, of hopelessness. It was the heart drop before unwilling acceptance, the dread before the spark reignited and anger took over.

What was this? His real feelings, buried beneath thousand of layers of paper mache and masks he wore to conceal his real self?

Cold. It was freezing.

-

He wanted the warmth back.

And back it came.

Streaming in like tendrils to caress his face, take his hand.

He was floating in the void. The voice did not call his name. The voice greeted him like a friend who missed him.

“You broke your promise to me.”

He let it speak. He had no other choice but to hear it. “I forgive you, my dear. But I cannot pretend you did not hurt me. Shadow Milk Cookie; why do you fear me so?”

Fear? The beast of Deceit, feeling fear? Impossible! This voice was speaking in lies just like every other one. It no longer held value to him.

“Do I? Oh, my darling.” The warmth pulled him up and engulfed him, “I will be expecting you in two days. Very early in the morning, we will reunite. I want an apology for your betrayal to me. But I will not force it upon you. It is your life, your dough, your magic. I will not take control of those just to prove something. Goodnight, Shadow Milk Cookie.”

The warmth stayed as long as he willed it, cloaking him like a blanket. By the time he had registered it was not there, sunlight was streaming through the clouds; and his minion was screaming bloody murder.

Black Sapphire’s microphone was being used to keep the jaws of a beast from mauling off his face. “Sir, some help please?”

Shadow Milk raised himself to his knees and let out a frustrated groan, “Goddammit Sapphire, don’t you have a familiar to help you with that?”

“Slight issue…” He gestured with his eyes to the gemstone bat who had his teeth clamped around the tail of another wolf who was thrashing around to throw it off.

And I’m still injured over here!

Whatever. The rest should’ve restored some of his strength.

“You’re getting your pay docked for this.”

“You don’t pay me!”

He pointed his blueberry staff at the wolf pinning Black Sapphire down  and a blast of deceitful energy threw it to the side. More wolves appeared from the darkness in the woods. Nothing he couldn’t handle. “Send my regards to the witches, Fools!”

But it was at that moment that his staff decided to give out, and no more than a few sparks of magic sizzled to the surface. He hit it off his palm and nothing happened. “Crumbs.”

The wolves were on him in only a moment, claws digging and teeth gnashing. He could feel the wound at his side getting torn further open and he screamed for Black Sapphire to do something.

“No wolves were harmed in the making of this film, hraaah!” Black Sapphire hit the wolves with his microphone and they scrambled back with a wince.

“Get them!” He told his familiar who split into multiple smaller bats and scrambled around like a flock of hungry birds. “And You- We need to run.”

“They’re only wol-Woah!” Black Sapphire’s grip was stronger than yesterday, yanking him away from their fireplace and in a direction he couldn’t make heads or tails of. His leg wound sent flashes of pain through him, though he hardly had the ability to protest the speed at which they ran.

His head swirled with pain and the path around him blurred to flashes of colours.

If they kept going on like this, his body would probably burst into thousands of little crumbs.

“Stop it right there!” Said a voice overhead. Black Sapphire finally braked and slowed to a halt, sending Shadow Milk forward into the snow, falling forward into darkness.

The next time he gained consciousness, he was being carried on the rough back of one of the wolves, while Black Sapphire talked to some new Cookie up ahead. Needless to say, he looked just like the flock of wolves, white fur lining the hood of his coat, crunchy stubble covering his chin. Despite his gravel rasp, he appeared to have the energy and enthusiasm of someone younger than he looked and sounded.

“Oh don’t worry, we were planning to stay only a day or two.” Black Sapphire told him, “Plenty to see in this kingdom, after all.”

“Really? It’s mostly a lot of snow out here though. Guess the milk clan is pretty interesting…” this new Cookie had not caught the sarcasm. “Oh! There’s a new tourist spot in the citadel. It serves sweet coffee. Well… sweeter coffee. We like ours pitch black and really bitter, it tends to throw new Cookies off.”

“Uh-huh… coffee. Delightful.” Black Sapphire caught his eye and put a finger to his lip and gestured for him to stay lying low. Not that he had a choice; his entire body felt paralyzed. That run must’ve pulled every bit of him apart, it would be a miracle if he still had a body.

“Well, your friend here might not get to see it… say, if you’re leaving in two days, where’s he gonna go? Not exactly in any state to walk, anyway.”

“I’m sure he can make his way back home when he’s ready.” Black Sapphire said, “we were just traveling together for convenience. Me? I’ll be going over to Beast Yeast when I’m finished here. There’s a lot of juicy stories I’ve yet to uncover.”

“Oh! Beast Yeast?… I don’t know if that’s a good idea, sir. Haven’t you heard?”

“Oh, of the beasts return?” A slight static floated through the air, a minuscule tell that Black Sapphire was using his persuasion; “Why, do you doubt my adventuring skills?” The static grew, “I can handle myself perfectly fine, kind stranger. But thank you for the warning nonetheless.” The static faded as he said that last bit, and the thin sound of wind returned to the air.

“Oh… Okay then. Guess I’ll ask if we can get you a boat in advance.”

“Mhm, you are too kind!” Not much else was said until they reached the gates, where the stranger called up to what could only be an ally of his, some kind of archer. The entrance to the city was opened and the stranger carried Shadow Milk Cookie’s useless - and disguised - Cookie body the rest of the way to medical bay, where there was a reassuring lack of customers.

The way the stranger walked was not much different from a prowling wolf - how that was possible on two legs was beyond him. But when he set Shadow Milk down, he spoke a few words of reassurance and left him to stare with what he hoped was contempt at the nurses now attending to him, asking all sorts of questions and wrapping him in layers of robes and bandages. The bandage around his side was so tight he felt as if he were in a corset laced too tight - something he only put up with when the situation Really called for it. Normally, his female disguise would keep it at more snug tightness, but not suffocating like these bandages. At least he was wearing some layer of clothing underneath when he had to do that.

Oh well. Whatever stopped the jam from flowing.

Hours rushed by with doctors coming and going, putting him through question after question, test after test. He answered them honestly since he didn’t see much point in lying if it meant he would get this sorted as soon as possible. He Did make sure to exaggerate some parts to make them seem more dire, as being too honest meant they wouldn’t take him seriously. Such was the experience of being under the hands of medical practitioners.

And finally, evening fell.

Black Sapphire had not come to visit him the entire day. He must’ve been off having dinner with the king and shaking hands with the first knight next to him. That’s the kind of thing he would weave his way into doing just to distract himself.

He should’ve expected it by this point. It was in both their natures to run like this. Where he would usually escape to another part of his other realm, Black Sapphire had a habit of getting cozy with all the higher ups of a country, just prove his influence. And while he usually ended up using it for the grand design Shadow Milk had set in place, there always that tiny shard of him that doubted his son had done it merely as a gift to prove his worth.

No, if he ever needed to flee and quickly gain the trust of a kingdom to protect him from the Great Deceiver’s wrath, he could do it. Not that it would help his case. Every kingdom Shadow Milk Cookie had dug his claws into had fallen to his deceit.

But still, if Black Sapphire put his mind to it, he could’ve usurped a country to become its first in line to command. He had all the resources on politics in the spire, even if the documents on everything from before the tree were hidden away cleverly.

Could he be stronger than his creators? No, not a chance. But if he rallied other kingdoms against the beasts, together they might stand a fighting chance. Especially the kingdoms of the other ancients. Maybe if he got Pure Vanilla on the case-

“Shadow Milk Cookie.”

Being brought back to reality by the one Cookie he didn’t need to see right now. Great.

“Black Sapphire. Come to announce your resignation?”

He heard the familiars hiss in response. “I see you still have your head - impressive, I was worried it would fall right off when they stripped you down.” From here he could just glimpse the purple of Black Sapphire’s suit.

“I have been trying to convince the Cookie’s in this kingdom to allow me passage back to Beast Yeast.” He bowed, “I had to go through to the king to prove my trustworthiness. These Cookies are not easily fooled, I must say.”

“So you actually did have dinner with the king?” He has no strength left to laugh, funny as it was. “Typical. But it worked?”

“That it did.” Black Sapphire shifted on his feet, an obvious tell for his nerves, “If I may be allowed… I think we should talk about it.”

There was a lot of ground to cover in the department of things they needed to talk about. Shadow Milk Cookie was not the kind to solve things through healthy conversational skills, even if he knew all of them. Knowing and applying were two very different practices.

“Go on then.”

“Master, I-“

“Cut the apologies though. I don’t need to hear you say it; I frankly don’t even care if you feel remorse for what you’ve been doing. Guilt is not an action.”

A pause lingered in the air before sapphire continued. “Then, I wanted to say that I have been operating only out of the interest of keeping all of us safe while you recover your strength.”

“And look.” He raised an arm for a moment, wincing with the effort it took, “You failed on both accounts. Are you proud of yourself, boy?”

Black Sapphire stepped further into the room, still keeping his distance. “No. I am deeply ashamed.”

“So why are you still here?”

Black Sapphire was in range of his vision, and he looked just like a child preparing to be scolded by their parents for breaking a vase.

Oh, stop that. You’re not my son anymore.

Figuratively.

His eyes turned up again and he gave a more convincing imitation of his mother’s pout. “I don't want to leave you behind again."

A lie, easy as ever to spot. "You're going to go regardless of what you tell me. Go on, say you'll never leave my side again, hmm? Can't do it? It's because you know where your priorities lie."

His head dipped and he pouted again, "I can't tell you you're wrong. In two days. A ship set sail for Beast Yeast, across the Licorice sea. From there, I'm going to travel back to the spice desert; on foot, by portal, doesn't matter. I have to go back."

“You can’t save her.” It cut deep, he could tell from the shift in the air of the room. "Whatever kind of delusions you hold of being a hero, you're only going to get yourself crumbled. Just let go of her and start anew."

"Master Shadow Milk Cookie-?"

"And stop calling me that." He clicked his tongue, "You can't lie to the embodiment of lies itself, you as it's prodigy should know that."

"How can you say that after tasking me with what you did?" Black Sapphire hooked a finger under his chin, “you aren’t making any sense, ma- Shadow Milk Cookie. Did you want me to protect her or not?”

He couldn’t find the answer immediately. It took half a second longer for the right words to come to him, a sure sign he was faltering. “God, I don’t know. I just wanted to keep you away from the arena. Is that so hard to believe? That I wanted you both safe?”

“That you wanted us both alive, maybe. But you seem to think she’s not alive, right? So then, what’s the point in trying to stop me from confirming that?”

Other than that it’s pointless? He felt another dizzy spell coming around. Oh witches let this conversation end already!

“You’re also acting like I’m not in your service any longer.” Black Sapphire continued, “Which leads to the strange paradox in that despite how I have betrayed you, you want to keep me here. So which is it; keep me alive because you need me, or because you still want to control me?”

His head swirled and swiveled. He could not be thinking this out right now. “I don’t know.”

“You do know.”

“I don’t wanna think about it right now.”

“Because you’re scared?”

“Because I’m injured!”

“That’s never stopped you in the past.”

“We were always in my other realm, obviously the injuries didn’t matter back then!”

“No. Not that time. Long, long before that.” An eternal silence stretched between them. Shadow Milk Cookie had to wonder if he had heard that right; if he was thinking of the same memory.

The yogurt river of rebirth.

Long standing, really one of his first successful experiments after discovering how dark moon magic could be used to do more than its healing counterpart. 

Though its purpose had changed many times over the years, the premise was always the same: unless a certain condition was met, it was impossible to reach the other side. Strength and endurance were nothing to the currents of white yogurt slicing the meadow in half.

With or without its deceitful purpose, it always worked. He had tested the very thing himself - floating easily to the top, as the virtue of knowledge contained all things - truth And deceit.

But what of an ordinary Cookie?

Who came to his side to test his river when his servants had all fled or crumbled?

Yes, Black Sapphire Cookie.

He could’ve drowned in that river. Could’ve. But, against all expectations, he’d fought his way to the other side, and Shadow Milk Cookie welcomed him into his service with an approving nod.

But it became clear all too fast what the price was for his survival. Black Sapphire Cookie had lost nearly all of his memories outside of serving Shadow Milk Cookie. As far as he was aware, he’d been serving his master’s wishes since he was old enough to float with his little bat wings.

And if Shadow Milk Cookie was still his past self, he might have spared a second thought to the ethics, the implications, the cruelty of what he’d done to the poor thing. But time had molded him into a terrible, terrible creature. He reveled in his new power over Cookie kind. He lost count of how many crumbs he’d seen come up since then. All he knew was that his most resilient servants had always been the two that made it through the river fastest. And that Black Sapphire should not have been able to remember anything from before the river.

“Are you saying you remember?” The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of it. If it wasn’t true, he would get a questioning look and maybe also a questioning response. Onwards did Black Sapphire’s silence stretch, hoping he could hide the truth. But the beast of deceit knew the methods of deception like it was sheet music. Black Sapphire’s memories had returned to him.

After a momentary pause of his breath, Black Sapphire turned to leave the room.

“Hey! I asked you a question, get back here and-“

“We both know the answer. What’s the point?”

His heart sank. “You cannot be serious.” And finally, that familiar fire returned to him. “You cannot be Serious!” He slammed his hand down on the bed, which cushioned the noise pathetically. “You just… remember it all now? How does that even…?”

“After we left the spire. It was while we were crossing the river, something chewed at my nerves. I couldn’t figure it out, until we were walking through the spice desert.”

“I knew I should’ve been suspicious at how quiet you were.” He was trying to lay it out on a mental cork-board for himself. But something still felt to be missing. “An entire lifetime worth of memories all in one afternoon… I should be livid that you didn’t tell me it was possible.”

“Not all of my memories.” Black Sapphire corrected. “Just the ones that were important.”

So, the fiasco I’ve been recalling this whole time. He was right. The same memory. “And that’s why you stopped me - You did all of that because you couldn’t just Say you remembered?”

“Would it have made a difference?”

He wanted to refute, but he held his anger back like a wild dog, straining his muscles with the resistance to the wildfire. All that came out of his throat was a frustrated sob. “You should’ve told me.”

He couldn’t tell whose anger was making the ground rumble the way it did, but Black Sapphire seemed to notice the change in the air, and straightened his back to seize a hold on it, “Tell you…what? That I remember seeing the awful singes coming off of you, smelling the charred dough mixed with burnt sugar? That I had to be the one to mop off the jam from the shower curtain? And that you never told me what happened until it was too late and I couldn’t trust you to tell the truth?” The magic hazed around him as he held on tight to his staff, “Listen to me, dad, you might pride yourself on having raised me in your image, but that does not mean I forgive you for your senseless outright lying to everyone.” His voice raised in pitch, “You put so many of your people in danger, because you were afraid! Afraid of what might happen, if anybody else knew just how badly you lost-!”

“Shut it!” Shadow Milk’s voice broke, how embarrassing, “You have no idea what it was like, and who are you to comment on the actions of my past self?”

“His son.” Black Sapphire's stare was heart-tearing in how resolute it stayed. “But I have come to understand that to be untrue now, seeing as that man is no more. In which case, I should be known as your most long standing servant. To think you had to watch me grow up twice and still hold so little fondness in your heart for me.” He shut his eyes, “Was it ever about wanting to raise a child, or was your goal always just to have control?”

Shadow Milk Cookie was at a loss for words. I did raise you, and I did a decent job of it! How much did he remember of his early years? He could not possibly predict it. This was uncontrollable. Rage and fear swept him astray from all the things he’d learnt to say when faced with such highly emotional situations. Under normal circumstances, he’d play on other Cookie’s emotions, manipulating them back to being in his benefit. But this was his son.

Was being the keyword.

“I can’t….” Almost immediately, the rage sizzled out and created mists in his eyes, “I can’t recall why. I just remember seeing how your mother was raising you - content, yes, but utterly incapable of being independent from her. I remember seeing it then - Hating what I saw in the future if I didn’t take you away.”

“So it was about controlling me?”

“Can you give me the benefit of the doubt, please?” He pulled at his ruffle collar, which felt as if it had grown tighter around him. There was still visible red spice on it. “I regret that you lost your memories! I still wanted you to be my kid, but you weren’t a kid anymore! What was I supposed to do with you sapphire? I wasn’t going to treat you like a baby even if you lacked the knowledge like one. Hey, I taught you all the important stuff you forgot, remember? You said I was the best teacher in the world.”

“You tricked me into believing everything you said.”

“So believe me one last time!” He reached out an arm to keep Black Sapphire from leaving his side, “I’m sorry, too.”

Black Sapphire’s eyes narrowed, “You have a lot to be sorry for. Are you going to be more specific?”

I’ll be as broad as I have to be if it gets you to stay. “Just for how I treated you.”

Black Sapphire's expression finally relented, but instead of looking fond, his eyes filled with soured pity. “It’s just like you to wait until the last moment before you want to fix something. It’s because your plan failed, Shadow Milk Cookie. And now it’s up to you to live with the consequences.”

He slipped his arm out of Shadow Milk Cookie’s hands and headed for the door.

Oh, now you’ve done it. The voice from his soul jam said, Now you’ve pushed everybody who wanted to help you away.

Chapter Text

All except for one.

Tell me what is more valuable.

Your dignity or your very life?

It was like watching a horror movie. Pure Vanilla put down his soul jam slowly and carefully, struggling to let go of its warmth like a bug in a Venus Ryetrap.

The heartache lasted even after his soul jam stopped glowing with the connection between them, vibrating like a quick, empty pulse.  

Shadow Milk Cookie, losing the last of his entourage. The morbid satisfaction never came to knock at the doors of Pure Vanilla’s soul. It was just too cruel a fate, and yet no less befitting of the mischievous jester. The dim tap of rainwater from the rooftops onto the leaves of the plants he’d left outside his window was all he had to puncuate the silence. He stared at the objects on his dresser for longer than he could measure.

Most of all, he burned with the desire to make another appearance to the beast in spirit, maybe just to see what would play out. The voices of his friends helped  to stave it off as he went to go make another cup of tea.

Do not be fooled, Dark Cacao would’ve said, We have all seen the tricks of those awful beasts, and we must vow never to fall for them again.

Golden Cheese would cross her arms and remind him of what he had to lose. Those monsters nearly ripped us apart!

She’s right, the offer of sweetness is merely a guise; it’s all a trick, Pure Vanilla  cookie!

What would White Lily Cookie think?

Oh gosh, this was all so stupid. Why did he still believe Shadow Milk Cookie would come around to his friendship! With all the stakes involved in the beast’s current situation, it would be more likely one of them would be torn apart - and it wasn’t the one pacing the kitchen with fidgeting hands and an empty stomach.

Right. He needed to eat something.

Checking all the cupboards, he tried to find something that his squirming stomach could hold down. Despite the nausea, he knew Hollyberry would not be pleased with him if he skipped a meal this late into the night.  It was just so difficult to pick a food and not feel weak while forcing his throat to obey in swallowing it. Just the thought of it made him gag.

No. He had to fix this.

He didn’t have to.

But he knew damn well that he was the only one would put in the legwork to fix it.

Not his responsibility, but his calling.

He made tea and grabbed a bowl of something he knew he couldn’t eat but still craved for ever so slightly – those wheat flakes – and returned to his room.

He put a bit of water in the pots by the window and sat back down, putting his hand back to his soul jam.

It’s okay. He reassured himself. Everything is so okay.

If there was anywhere that he expected to find himself, a curling hallway where the pristine white marble pillars reflected his gloomy outfit once more was not it. His jam ran cold and terror seized him again as he recognised the checkered pattern lining the floor and ceiling. This can’t have been Shadow Milk Cookie’s other realm, he was in no state to-

“Well well well!” Shadow Milk’s booming confidence filled the space of the hall, and the floor opened up underneath him. When he landed, it was on a blue cushioned seat with plenty of cozy white and blue quilts around him. “Looks like someone is late to my game show.”

The star of the show sat cross legged on a similar pillow chair opposite him. Although, the whole room looked to be made of pillows, beds and plushies, so maybe it wasn’t meant to be a chair at all.

“Shadow Milk Cookie.” When he heard his own voice, it sounded odd, lacking all the warmth and gentleness he tried to exude externally. “I wasn’t late, you just started early.”

“Oh well! You know me, can’t resist. I’m sure you know all about it, having to wait for hours just to have some fun?” Shadow Milk Cookie tilted his head to the side, looking as though gravity was going to tip him all the way over. “After all, you waited this whole day and we never even saw each other! Ugh, and I was so sure you wanted to play this time. What’s the hold up, boy? Are you scared of losing again..?”

To that he offered no response. Sure, scared was enough of a description; especially now. Could he plausibly ask what in the world was going on?

“What’s the game tonight?” He asked instead, because there was yet to be a board laid out in front of him.

Shadow Milk Cookie’s smile only grew. “Oh, you silly Cookie! Don’t you remember, you won the last one, so you get to pick this time.”

Won?

What last time?

He racked his brain for a second to recall if he’d bested Shadow Milk Cookie at all in the past day or two. They hadn’t even been playing games. There was the memory of the spice ordeal - but Shadow Milk Cookie was dozing off, he couldn’t have known about that! It could’ve been the exchange of power, but that was less a game and more a benevolent attempt to gain his trust. There was that broken promise, not that it mattered.

Wait.

Was this real?

“Well, stop thinking and start suggesting. I’m on a time limit, you know!” His arrogance was even less charming after tonight, but he digressed.

“How about…” He said the first option that came to his mind. “Truth or dare?”

Shadow Milk tilted his head. “What dares are you going to- Wait. You’re not seriously giving me That much power off the bat, right? Say you’re joking, Please.”

“I’m joking.” He sounded unintentionally sincere when he said it, though the thought had caught up to him that if he hadn’t, it would’ve been chaos and ruin for him. Exactly as Shadow Milk would want at this time. He was looking for someone to torment. “Because, I have a better idea!”

“Oho?”

He tentatively reached into his sleeve and willed a deck of cards to appear. Dream logic, he recognised it from the spire. This was the dark side of the moon, alright.

He placed the deck down and took a card out to demonstrate the rules.

“The joker’s fortune. Tarot cards. The aim of the game is to get rid of all your cards, of course. Each card is blank until placed down; the player of the card asks a question, which will lead to an image implanted onto the card. Then the other player must answer with a full truth. The more truthful the answer, the more golden the card’s design; and the less truthful, the more blue. If a card is more blue than gold, the other player must pick up a card. If the card is more gold than blue, no cards are drawn from either side and the next player takes their turn to place a card down. Half truths and omitted information working as deceit shows up too, to ensure it is not all black and white.”

“Seems too fair. Where’s the cheating?”

“Oh, the cheating? We’ll get to that.” He turned his eyes up and forced a mischievous grin on his face. For some reason, Shadow Milk’s curious expression mismatched the eyes in his hair, which seemed to shiver alive at the sight of his sneer. His own mouth curved nicely into a mischievous smile, the plots already forming behind his eyes. “I missed you acting all sinister like that. Shall I shuffle, since you’re So bad at it?”

“No need.” He slipped the cards out and began shuffling like there was no tomorrow. In the many timelines that had spanned beyond his embrace of deceit, he actually Had learned to shuffle these cards. Not every moment was kept in his memory, but some would just come to him, like any other memory, reminding him of Shadow Milk Cookie’s words to him at the beginning, “You’ve always been here, and you always will be.” Yes, some part of his soul would stay forever in the spire, and that part might send him messages of how his life could’ve gone had he not chosen to pierce his soul jam of deceit and reawaken the truth within himself.

Actually, life wouldn’t have been so bad, as his acceptance of hopelessness and despair would give way to a cat-dog dynamic. He’d reluctantly accept to play along with the games still, if only to fill up time. The world would’ve been engulfed by deceit, so there’d be endless playthings for Shadow Milk to choose from. But he’d still be the favorite, much to Candy Apple’s jealousy. Shadow Milk liked to treat him like a puppet, but he’d find his ways - scandalously, sometimes - to remind the wild fool that he was still alive somewhere within the body that he’d given up for the grand design. He could see it in his mind's eye, and it filled him with an odd thrill to think it was possible to outwit the former fount of all knowledge, and that he’d done so already.

That’s probably how he’d won the last game, by being discrete.

Was any of it real, he didn’t know. Maybe what he mistook for an alternate timeline was just a recurring daydream in which all the troubles he had in the spire melted away like syrup, liquid gold and inky blackness mixing to form a new kind of magic altogether.

“Are you done shuffling yet? It’s been like a week already.”

“Has it?” He smiled - oops, that’s not something he did in the spire - and stopped shuffling, “How time flies. You should put more flying clocks around this place, I think it would be funny.”

“You…” the confusion was palpable through the look on his face and the buzzing ambience of the room. “Didn’t know you still had a sense of humor, Nilly.”

He cocked a brow and started handing out the cards. About seven each, leaving the drawn pile face down to the side.

“I’ll start.” He placed down a card and asked it, “Is this a dream?”

Shadow Milk’s smile twisted. “Oh, starting with that, are we? So predictable, my dear friend.” The image appeared and it was a moon cloaked in blue sky. “Very well then, I offer you this; in a dream, you would not control yourself like you do.” The golden spread around the rim of the moon and out like beams of light, “This is no dream; but it also isn’t real, seeing as real life logic doesn’t apply.” He took one of his own cards and placed it down, “So I asked you, Where Are We?”

Not a dream, not the real world. “Easy. This is the dark side of the moon, so to speak; and what I saw of the spire was just that; set pieces. Right now, only the things we can both see exist in the other realm. Everything outside is cold darkness.”

“Heh, great, established the setting. Now the real questions start, hm?”

“Real is subjective in this world.” He reveled in the way Shadow Milk’s eyes lit up at the statement, “Alright, Master of Deceit. Why did you call me forth?”

“Oooh, you think I did this?” He smiled and watched the card’s lines paint themself, “You came here of your own volition, remember?” Gold swept the card up, revealing a two of cups, “You wanted to be here, whether for my sake or your own.”

He put down his card and a less appetizing grin split his face, “Tell me, Pure Vanilla Cookie, why are you so happy right now?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t act clueless. I see those tiny flashes of excitement enter your face before you school your expression back to being thoughtless; so what is causing that?”

He looked down at the card, assessing the boundaries of what could and could not be said to answer truthfully. He glanced up at Shadow Milk, who was awaiting his answer with eager anticipation. “Nothing. I simply missed being with you.”

The card started coming up gold and a knight of swords appeared. “Is that all?”

“No, but it’s my turn to-“ The card began turning blue as he reached into his deck for a new card.

“Uh oh, looks like you’re avoiding telling the truth. Draw a card.”

No. Not this time. “I was worried about you. I’m happy because you’re okay.” The blue lines were quickly written over by a few new golden ones, but since he refused to say much more, the card stood at half-half of both colours.

“What happens now?” Shadow Milk taunted, “Do we introduce a third player?”

It would be more fair if his turn were skipped, for trying to avoid the question. But knowing his opponent, he had to ensure he would not be taken advantage of; so in this way, he had put himself at an advantage to level their playing field. Pure Vanilla took the card from the draw pile. “Now it’s my turn.”

“I don’t know, I liked the skipping idea-“

“Quiet.” He placed down another card, “Let’s return to something similar, right? How about you tell me why you’re so afraid right now?”

Instantly he could sense the air getting colder. Shadow Milk Cookie’s smile tightened, and his teeth seemed to press harder against each other.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” The card turned blue before the shining ink faded into a darker black. “Your question is invalid.”

“You cannot hide the truth from me.” Pure Vanilla leaned over the card, tilted his head to see it from all different angles. “I suggest you put the pigment back into the ink, Shadow Milk Cookie.”

“You can’t make me answer this question.”

The lines drew up further, revealing a major arcana, The Hermit, in what should be blue ink. Small flecks of gold lined the light around its lantern.

“I can’t, you’re right about that.” He pulled back and folded his hands in his lap. “Only you can answer this question how you see fit. I will not punish you for avoiding the question, other than asking you to take a card.”

Shadow Milk stared down at the dark colour and allowed the blue to shine once again. “I’m not afraid.” The golden light was swallowed up by darkness. “Damn you, Pure Vanilla Cookie,” he took a card from the draw pile and slammed it down, “what could I possibly have to be afraid of?”

Pure Vanilla checked his own cards - blank, of course, it was just a habit. “Maybe you’re afraid of losing.” Golden lines wove themselves around a picture of a Cookie trapped beneath the weight of nine swords all pointing in over its head, the middle one larger than the rest, their hilts shining in blue. He took it to mean this was only a fraction of the truth, tainted by the omission of just What Shadow Milk was so scared of losing. He put down his next card.  “I suppose that last question was too difficult for you, so instead of focusing on what you feel, shall I focus on how you feel it?”

“Those are the same things.” He hoped Shadow Milk Cookie wouldn’t see the way the card filled out its colours. He kept his hand on it anyway, absentmindedly.

“What you feel and how you respond to it are different, I think.” Pure Vanilla could feel the gentleness creeping back into his voice, “Does it hurt when you cry?”

All the eyes in his hair, his coat tails and on his face had time to blink before he noticed the colour in the last card, answered by placing his own card and repeating the question back to him.

Pure Vanilla shrugged. “No, It doesn’t always hurt for me, and it might not always hurt for you. You have nothing to worry about; My cards are compassionate.”

“Bleugh. Get that word out of the air,” He fanned the air around him as if warding off bugs, “Listen, I don’t care what you think does or does not count as a question, but I, the great deceiver Shadow Milk Cookie, am not keen on playing along with your therapy sessions. If your next question is not something Actually fun, I’ll throw you into the snake pit again.”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes narrowed to slits. He was lucky he could still see Shadow Milk despite his blindness. Being the Truthless Recluse had made him see things clearer, literally. “You would not have the Gall to throw me away in your current state.” He peered down at his next card, which was still awaiting to be drawn over, though he could see the faint outline of a knight on his horse, calling out to his comrades and moving his head side to side as if looking for someone. He put it down. “Let me rephrase, How Badly does it hurt when-“

“It doesn’t hurt at all!” Finally the ink filled the page, drawing gold and blue through the world, and Shadow Milk seemed to recall the rule of picking up new cards. He was already up one, losing this round would mean some terrible odds for him. “Well, fine. I’m not usually paying attention. There, does that satisfy your curiosity? I don’t care if it hurts, because my tears don’t mean anything.”

Pure Vanilla raised a brow. “Don’t they?”

“No, yeah, no. It means Jackchip! No more to be said on this subject!”

Pure Vanilla reached below the table, hoping he’d find some kind of refreshment. Just a teacup and a spoon - it would do. He traced the rim and the cup began to fill. “You’re awfully touchy about some of these things, maybe I should’ve known before I went and hurt your feelings.”

Shadow Milk dug his nails into his scalp and groaned through his teeth. The wisps of white hair were coming undone, little strays separating and becoming more stringy. Restrained gasps came through his parted lips, stuttering every time he reached a certain amount of oxygen on the inhale. “You don’t know anything!”

Pure Vanilla stirred the now nearly full cup. “If that’s what you believe, there’s no point in arguing. You are the master of this world, Shadow Milk Cookie. None should be allowed to defy your reason.”

“So stop defying me!” He took one of his cards, not bothering to glance on which and placed it down atop the previous - Death, it was revealed to be. “And you-! You’re only going to feel more empty when you return to the real world! Hah, get it? I bet you’re just starving for your sweet White Lily to come back to you, hmm? And you’re using me as your entertainment whilst you wait. Go on, say it! Say It!”

He could not be less bothered by the attempts to hit his insecurities. Pure Vanilla took his first sip. Surprisingly, it was quite sweet for having no sugar. His mind digressed again. “No. I haven’t asked her what she’s been up to. Oh, is that the wheel of fortune?” And it was, the golden lines to indicate the wheels and the blue to be a star in the middle. He allowed the blue to fill the space. “Your insistence on this cruel game being a distraction from my yearning… understandable. Though, you always seem so scorned when you bring her up.” He placed his card down, “Are you jealous of her?”

“No.” He said quickly. He didn’t wait to see what colour the card was, placing his own down, “Are you finding some sick enjoyment in seeing me so distressed? It feels like all you’ve been doing is…”

“…laying out all your secrets and forcing you to look them in the eyes while you tell me what you’re really thinking.” He raised his cup like a champagne glass, “The taste of your own medicine is bittersweet, isn’t it?”

And then he placed his second last card down. “Tell me what holds more value to you. Is it your Dignity, or your very life?”

“Huh?”

“It’s an A or B question. Just like you did for me.” Now he shifted the scenery to include his signature gold with the whites, lining some of the patterns and replacing the blues. “This is what lies at the bottom of the game, the question I heard myself ask as your soul jam brought you into darkness tonight.”

Shadow Milk narrowed his eyes to seem more resolute, even forcing a sly smile onto his face. “What if I don’t value either?” The card painted itself gold, a beautiful spire with a radiant sunbeam that surrounded the whole thing. It was the most perverse imitation of what the Towers Shadow Milk Cookie had claimed to be his own would look like under Pure Vanilla’s rule. Flecks of blue began to blossom as doubt seeped into his heart, seeing the spire so tainted with light. The eyes in the sky looked like Pure Vanillas magic, until Shadow Milk Cookie fought to make them darken. To no avail, no matter how much he tried to lie or change his answer, The Tower remained bright against his other realm’s backdrop, or the darkness of The Tower contrasting the bright skies behind it.

He didn’t even have the audacity within him to be angry. He leaned over the table with his head in his hands and his shoulders shook with sobs. “Why? Why isn’t it letting me lie? I do value my life, and I also value my dignity.”

“Because it is a trick question.” Pure Vanilla said simply “I’ve given you only trick questions so far.” The Tower on the card solidified itself into a small three dimensional figure sprouting out from the card. “For a long time, I’d wanted to get back at you for that chess game.” He flicked the tower over and it crumbled, “what I’ve done is ask a series of targeted questions that I knew you would have a right answer to. At any point, you could have said my questions were too biased, and I would have allowed you not to answer them.”

“That’s not fair! You didn’t say that at the start!” His voice went shrill. “You withheld important rules! That’s-“

“Cheating. There we go, there’s the cheating.” He had the funniest feeling in his chest, like pride only more sinister. He couldn’t help the smile that spread on his face. It was probably the ugliest kind of joy he’d felt since seeing how heartbroken Shadow Milk Cookie was at being betrayed again. He chose to allow this darkness despite his disgust, and laid a hand over Shadow Milk’s. “Are you proud of me?”

“You little trickster.” He sobbed. “My stupid lying puppet.”

“I’m not a puppet.”

After a few more sobs, Shadow Milk looked up. “I hate you so much.”

“Then you don’t have to answer whether you’re proud of me… I already know that you are, somewhere deep down. Does it disgust you?”

“No.” He pressed his next card down, “No, You answer my questions! Are you sorry, Pure Vanilla? My, My- MY stupid other half-“

“Your words are always about having ownership over me.” He observed this neutrally, though he had an odd feeling this had some relation to his insecurities. “Why is that?”

“I made you! You’re mine!” He leaned forward to pull Pure Vanilla in by his shoulders, “You keep disobeying me! Keep… being yourself! And I hate it! I hate that you keep being yourself.”

Pure Vanilla wasn’t sure what to say to prompt the right response, “Do you?”

“Yes, I- I’m….” He winced and pushed Pure Vanilla back and sprawled over the table. “I don’t knoooooow!” He continued to sob. And then he sneezed, somehow. Either way, his emotions seemed to be colouring the pillows in a heartbreak-blue. Such deep anguish left the eyes on the ceiling to drip unknown blackness onto the pillows too, sinking in like ink stains. 

He let Shadow Milk weep there until his sobs quieted down.

“Yes. I’m sorry.” He said at last. Shadow Milk peeked a hair tentacle up and its eyes landed on the table, where the queen of cups turned blue and gold in unequal measure.

“You’re lying.”

“It’s what you like. Do you want me to be honest with you?” He touched a hand to his soul jam. “I can bear my soul too, if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

His arms stifled the sound of his mumbling, but the words “do whatever you want.” And “you’re about to win anyhow.” Made it through. He put a hand to the card and closed his eyes.

“You have encountered loss many times throughout your eternal life, Shadow Milk Cookie. It is an aching only we immortals can understand; even those you thought would never turn their backs on you are gone tonight, slipping back to the recesses of the mortal world.” The queen of cups heard him out completely, noble on her throne with golden goblets all around her, “For my cruelty, I am sorry, Shadow Milk Cookie. I believe no such thing should ever fall upon one of our kind, even if they have done wrong by my judgment. However, what I am not remorseful about is that it has brought upon this result; I worry for you, and I have worried for you. When your own servant could not twist your real feelings out of you, I began to foresee a great danger in your path… that’s why I made myself come here. I still want to save you, Shadow Milk Cookie.”

“Why though?” Shadow Milk interrupted. His hair was deflated, melted black shadows dripping off the edge. “I’m not worth your love, Pure Vanilla.”

“Am I worth your hate?”

That prompted Shadow Milk Cookie to look up, and then down at the cards which he’d covered in his dark hair.  “Card?”

“No. I don’t need to know if it’s true. I’m saving my question for something more important.”

“But I could lie.”

“But am I?” A couple seconds silence was enough.

Shadow Milk Cookie stared at him with glassy eyes mere seconds away from squeezing shut from tears. “Yes. Every single second.” He was about to lean his head back down, but Pure Vanilla rubbed his hair and it caused him to flinch back.

“Then, for my final question,” Pure Vanilla reached down under the table and pulled out another cup. He traced the rim and put the spoon in, but before he stirred he placed the final card. “How sweet do you like your tea?”

His heart thudded in his chest. The tentative expression on Shadow Milk’s face shifted from expectation to curiosity to confusion to rage. “That’s what you’re choosing to make your final question? Not some big philosophical thing like, “What is truth in your eyes?” Or, “How did you end up like this?” You could ask me anything in the world, and you chose to ask me how I like my tea?!”

“It’s important.” Pure Vanilla responded, “The master of deceit need not think on what is truth, and your past doesn’t need to be divined. I’ve already said I forgive you. And I will keep on forgiving you as long as you make it clear that you want me to.”

“Despite all my hate?”

“The cruelty, the hate, all the terror that seizes me. I’ll make it my dying goal to reunite our soul jams in a way that is peaceful.”

Those words settled in his stomach and he took a shaken inhale. “So. You’re giving me the tea, or is this another trick question?”

“Why don’t you answer and find out?” He waved the spoon around in the cup, “it’s already getting sweeter. You better answer if you want to stop it.”

“No. Not like this.” He pressed his nails against his eyebrows to conceal the tears that fell. “I can’t be defeated to this.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter. Oh, what’s that called? A lack of control?” The spoon clinked against the glass. “You’d better hurry or-“

“SHUT UP!” He yanked the spoon out and put it in his mouth. “There, no more stirring.” The metal clinked against his teeth. “I like my tea sweeter than sweet. More sugar than tea. And if it’s above room temperature, I don’t want it, which is why I wait until it’s exactly room temperature to add the milk.”

The entire card flashed up gold, revealing The Sun. New beginnings. “But I don’t like drinking tea that was brewed by the hands of backstabbing gnats. I’ll pass on it.”

“Never said I was offering it to you.”

“Ugh! Damn you, stupid cone hat, milk pool eyes, bright faced bitch! You and your ugly sneers can get the hell out of my other realm right now!”

“Aww, I thought you liked my ugly sneer.”

“Graghh!” He pushed the messy white strands away from his face and the spoon fell onto the table, “I really wish I’d never met you, Pure Vanilla Cookie. Here’s a promise I don’t intend to break; I’m going to kill you when we next meet in person.”

The sky behind the sun turned to a dark sea, and he took the card and tore it in half. “Like that! See, you won’t stand a chance.”

Pure Vanilla took the halves and pressed them back together and then swept up the cards to shuffle again absentmindedly, “I might believe you… Will you still come to my castle tomorrow?”

“Huh?”

“I want to talk about the way you broke your last promise. Now that I know how you like your tea, I promise I’ll make it just right for you.” He turned his eyes up to Shadow Milk, “My sweet… fool. Haha, I never considered that. I’m a king and you’re a fool. You’ve really been planning this out since you fell from grace.”

“That had nothing to do with you.” He crossed his arms. “But sure. At least you acknowledge that you’re mine.”

“Forever.” He angled the cards so they’d all spit into the air, “I wasn’t lying then. I still want to be your friend.”

A funny flush appeared on Shadow Milk’s cheeks. “Fuck you.”

“Please stop breaking the language barrier, friend.” But it didn’t really matter after the first time. As long as he kept his language clean most of the time. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he clicked his tongue. “Little blueberry.”

One card fell in front of his vision and darkness gave way to the morning light. It was morning? He really had spent the whole night with the beast.

The thought of Shadow Milk’s flustered refusal to look at him as he left made his heart tickle.

You’re Mine.

That reminded him of another thing running through his jam; The thrill of victory. He put a heart to his soul jam, “I get to pick the game next time, too.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11 - Dark Cacao Cookie

The kingdom had seen a turn for the better ever since those heroic cookies stopped by and taught him a lesson in opening his heart back up.

Since then, he’d seen his friends again a few times and it really did clear the clouds in his mind. He especially liked to discover that just like old times, there was always a hollyberry celebration to be had.

When the pale ailment had finally disappeared from his kingdom, it gave him some time to recollect the journey he’d taken to reach this point.

Many fond memories came back to him, looking over the citadel where cookies were just waking up to begin their laborious days.

Later, a letter would arrive for him, signed by Hollyberry cookie herself,

It read,

“To my dear friend, Dark Cacao Cookie.

How are you holding up? Still resolute as ever, I hope.

I heard about the disease that plagued your kingdom for the duration of two weeks and I send my condolences to the fallen sick.

But I also heard that it had disappeared right after you defeated the beast of apathy. My congratulations on your victory, and since I have recently won my own battle against the beast of sloth, I am formally inviting you to celebrate our victories together.

Pure Vanilla cookie and golden cheese cookie have already been sent their letters, we all hope you can attend.

With hopes and spirit,

Hollyberry cookie.”

Ah of course, a celebratory feast. The hollyberry kingdom was only a few hours travel. He could be there by the evening of the feast. The date attached said it was at the end of next week, so he had plenty of time to prepare. That must be why she sent it last; he would be the quickest to arrive in the kingdom, perhaps even earlier for the sake of punctuality.

He found Caramel Arrow cookie and informed her of the invitation, and instructed a few more of his servants on what to do in his absence; and gave special instructions in case his son ever appeared at the gates. They mightn’t be ready for a chat just yet, but the spring would come soon, and new beginnings were upon them.

And finally, the precautions in case a beast is found within the kingdom. His old age had given way to caution when leaving his kingdom unattended, so be it. If the pale ailment were to return without his knowing, it could sweep his kingdom dry. He could not let that happen, and so he wrote a special instruction for each beast - pure guesswork, seeing as the master strategist in his kingdom was… unavailable. No matter, he knew the tricks of the beasts now. Or, most of them. He and golden cheese had been convening on their battles, seeing as thier beasts were so opposite, and to combine their knowledge would benefit all.

He just hoped here would be no need to discuss this at the banquet table.

That boy who’d turned up and persuaded him to lend a ship back to beast yeast was still walking around the place, a friendly smile gracing his lips every time he greeted a new cookie. What his deal was, it was difficult to decipher. He reminded Dark Cacao of someone he’d rather not think about - a former colleague who’d betrayed and taken over his kingdom.

If this was another cookie of darkness in disguise, he would have to keep a close eye on everywhere he went. Spies were sent to survey him throughout his strolls and during his visits to the hospital. He seemed to check in to ask how the cookie he’d arrived with was fairing, even if he claimed they were strangers to one another and he never went in to see the cookie himself.

Dark Cacao had no business knowing what their relationship was, but it was certainly notable how the first time he’d checked in, he’d left with a tear stained face and a complimentary pack of tissues in his hand.

He advertised himself as a journalist, who collected all the freshest scoops of news from all around the world. It became clear quite fast that he was more interested in gossip and rumours than any news with substances, and he warned the cookies of his kingdom to pay less attention to his words, for they could be falsehoods.

But still, his curiosity got the best of him, so that evening, he called up the boy, right back to his meeting and strategy room. Various maps lined the walls with a big round table in the centre with a scaled model of his kingdom. Very easily, he had lead a spy right into the heart of the city. And now it would be his turn to seek out secrets.

“Good evening, sir- I mean, Your Majesty. Dark Cacao cookie...” The boy gave a low bow and a cocky grin. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He watched the ocean waves rise and fall. There would be no point in drawing the conversation out. “What is your real purpose in our kingdom?”

The boy’s eyes widened, though his smile hardly faltered, “Direct, I like it! As I have said, your majesty, I am no more than a traveling journalist. I’m sure I made clear how eager I am to set sail, I promise won’t cause any trouble for your kingdom.”

“Hm.” He met the eyes of this strange cookie. The white lashes that framed his slitted pupils recalled to him some other villain he had read about, and yet he couldn’t conjure it to his mind. “You, strange journalist. What is your name?”

“I work for the Daily Rumor.” He said it with such smooth certainty, there simply was no way he’d been fibbing. “I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it, Dark Cacao cookie. I was so sure that your kingdom would have been overrun by some strange articles coming out?”

He thought about it. There was certainly a couple of outsiders recently talking about how caramel apple cookie had been colluding with affogato cookie, secret meetings in the forest for whatever reason. She had denied these claims with extreme offense to the very prospect. It was soon revealed that it was all a silly misunderstanding, and that she’d really been seen fighting the traitor over rice cakes. She won, obviously.

“Was that your idea?”

“No more than a silly story getting out of hand, I hope you can forgive me.” He gave another low bow, “I truly mean it when I say I mean the kingdom no trouble this time around.”

Alright. Well now that his profession was established, Dark Cacao supposed he’d ask again. “You say you have no relation to the stranger you arrived with. I have personally gone to see him while you were away, and he gave rather non-committal answers on this subject; who are you to him?”

The cookie before him finally let his smile falter as he fell into contemplation. “It’s more complicated than saying whether I know him or not.” He stepped forward and started tracing the map of earth bread and looking at the names on it. “This is an authentic from before the Dark Flour war?”

“I was alive before the Dark Flour war, boy. I fought in it. Of course it’s an authentic. I commissioned it myself.”

The young man nodded quickly. “Does it hurt to see the way the world has changed?”

“You are changing the subject to avoid my question.”

The young man cursed under his breath. He swallowed thickly and finally turned his slitted pupils up. “If you insist. I will warn you that the truth is rather bitter. Can you promise not to bring harm to me nor my companion even if it is as bitter as the cacao that fortifies these walls?”

“You should not expect me to be forgiving, should the truth put anybody in danger.” Dark cacao answered, “I will protect my kingdom from all evils, and if your truth is that you intend to bring harm in any way to this world, I have a duty to stop you.”

“Alright.” The young man prepared himself and his microphone. “My name is… Black Sapphire cookie.” Even as he said it, his voice sounded unsure, as if he wasn’t used to saying his own name so honestly. “And I promise on my life that I mean no harm.”

“And that cookie in the hospital?”

“My father.” He took in a breath. “You must forgive me. I’ve been concealing my worries about his health for quite some time now.”

Dark Cacao raised a brow. The young man went on, “I intend to sail to Beast Yeast to save somebody who is very dear to me, alike a sibling.” He held his staff tighter, “I have no other motive. He, my father… I think in my absence from him that you should keep your spies close. He’s had a bit of a wild streak as of late… wilder, anyway.”

The earnest tone with which he said it surprised Dark Cacao cookie. His once cocky smile was now nervous, and the hair that fell over one of his eyes no longer gave him a mysterious air, but instead served to hide his face for other reasons. “I don’t want anybody else to hurt him… I’m just afraid he will try to hurt them first. Not the nurses,” he specified, “He’s far too injured to do anything with his body. It’s his magic that I am afraid of.”

“His magic?”

Black Sapphire flicked a small button his microphone. “I’m sorry,” he said, “Nobody was supposed to know this much about me. Especially not of my… father.” He held the microphone as if he were speaking to an audience, “I think you all deserve some kind of compensation for what I’ve put you through. I know it’s not my fault, but it’s gets incredibly hard to believe when I’m the only one who isn’t…” radio static filled Dark Cacao’s ears and the torches within in the room dulled, as if being suppressed by darkness. “I need to make a request of you, Your majesty Dark Cacao cookie.”

“What is this?” He put a hand on his sword, “This…Darkness?”

“This is the magic of deception; don’t question it, and it won’t hurt you. I need you to promise something to me; it’s about Pure Vanilla cookie. You two are on good terms, yes?”

“What is your intention, Black Sapphire cookie?”  He could feel the static energy deep through his dough and the tension on his shoulder unwillingly going out, “Are you another of the five Beasts?”

“No.” He answered easily. “But I know Pure Vanilla cookie. I want you to write a letter requesting his presence; I want him to heal my father. I don’t care how much I have to pay anybody; I’ll sacrifice the world for my family, and Sh…My Father. He is the only thing I can guarantee I have in this world.”

Dark Cacao let the words slide over his brain like some kind of poison. He felt obliged to obey the request, despite having no sensible reason to. What was sense anyway? The static was all that mattered.

“You are rumored to be the most resilient cookie, which is why I am not concerned for the safety of your kingdom if you do this, despite its risks,” Black Sapphire cookie approached him and poked his chin and his cocky grin came back, “Are you listening, Your majesty? Tell you’ll do me this favor if you’re listening.”

He felt his mouth move and the words come out before he could make sense of himself.

“Good. Good. Tell Pure Vanilla cookie there’s a patient in the hospital who would appreciate his help; someone only he alone can face. Tell him I asked, and mention that he’s the only one right for this situation.”

“Do you really believe that?” Dark Cacao strained out, feeling his will slip back, “Our medicine is more developed than you think.”

“Oh I’ve heard. I have trust in your capabilities - again, it’s his mental state I worry for. I hope you understand.” The static went out and his dough felt heavier again. “Thank you, your majesty. I will repay you with whatever you want.”

“May I ask you something?” He didn’t wait for a Yes before saying, “What is so dangerous about your father than you must ask for the assistance of an Ancient Hero?”

Black Sapphire took his time to formulate an answer for that. “It’s… complicated. I can’t say without disclosing too much. Your kingdom will be safe though, granted that you fulfill my one request; I know better than any, the anguish of my own father. You have a son, correct? You can understand how grief can cause a man to go mad.”

The mention of Dark Choco cookie pinched a nerve in his chest, and instantly his body broke free of the fading static haze. “You dare speak of my son?”

Black Sapphire bowed low again. “I speak of the great anguish that your separation would have caused for the both of you.” His slitted pupils strayed to the banner with the signature Dark Cacao colours and an old war recruitment slogan on it. “I wish not to cause more violence. I’ve seen firsthand the dangers that a desire for revenge might have on someone.” He straightened his back, “I don’t want to set the world on fire.”

Dark Cacao saw a glimpse of his real age under the bags that weighed down his eyes, of the slow readjusting of his posture, and the delicate spindly hands he ran through his hair. “You have seen much, boy. Such a young looking man you are, and yet something tells me you outlive even the snow in my kingdom… so why are you telling me this?”

“Why?” Black Sapphire blinked and his eyes squinted as he searched for an answer, “I’m sorry your majesty. I’ve likely burdened you with too much already.”

“It is the last thing I need to know. Then I will cast my final judgement.”

Black Sapphire’s attitude shifted as he scanned the floor for an answer. The snow outside filled his silence in the meantime. When he finally came back to earth-bread, his eyes were unguarded. “I don’t hold many things in high regard; Truth, most of all means nothing to me. Why I chose to give away so much of it today… Impulse. Call it a sort of rebellion, like a child acting out. I’m very sorry, your majesty, I promise I will leave as soon as I am able.”

“Is that All?”

“No. But it is the most I can give away. Sometimes being kept in the dark is for your protection. But if Pure Vanilla can help my father, he will also be able to tell you what’s going on better than I; and I owe you both a life debt for your service. If nothing else is needed of me, I will make myself scarce to get ready for boarding.”

Dark Cacao cast an appraising eye. "Yes. Go now. Send your father my regards."

Black Sapphire cookie left and Dark Cacao sat down heavy in a chair and put his head in his hands. Caramel arrow joined him a few moments after his other guest had left. "Notice anything suspicious?"

"I... think we should let him leave as soon as we can. Get him on the next boat you can. I need to draft a letter Pure Vanilla cookie. And, Caramel arrow cookie?"

"Yes sir."

"Keep an eye on the hospital while I'm gone." He tapped the table his his finger, “Thank you. Dismissed.”

Chapter Text

23/05/25

Okay HELLOO I am probably not sober because I went to a karaoke bar for someone birthday (conveniently placed on the same day that would be my last day at school) and because I am Thoueoughlt inexperienced, I’ll likely be sooooo tired tomorrow. No it’s fine I drank a lot of water.

oh but anyway, we reached 63 kudos on this fic, and there’s like 1200 hits on it now??? Crazy. I’m so thankful for all the comments too, you guys are so nice and supportive. You probably have thousands of fics that you could choose to keep up with, and the fact that at least two of you keep up with this one enough to comment every single chapter - AH! My heart! 😭

I don’t know if I had a second piount, I just really wanted to thank all of you - though this maybe a more underrated fic in comparison to others on the homepage, I am still so honored that each and every one of you decided to follow along with the story - and trust me, I have so many ideas for where to take it, and I will be writing them over the summer - who knows, maybe the following will only get bigger and bigger as time goes on. 

uhhhh I’m going to be like this again tomorrow (can you believe that???? Two birthday parties ina row and then a graduation ceremony.) Guys, what’s the ambulance number in Ireland again!!! It’s okay it’s fine it’s cool. Our main stereotype is alcoholism (something that i defy most of the time…. This weekend being the exception apparently.) 

oh God, I’m being too personal now, uhhh goodnight I think? I really hope you guys aren’t suffering and you’ll 

 what

if you ARE suffering, I hope you find some amount of comfort in the fact that it isn’t forever, and even when it feels like you’ll never get out, I managed to make it of the hardest part of my life, I’m basically living proof that it will get better. Actually this entire fic is just “it has to get worse before it gets better” and thankfully the next one ends with Shadow Milk in Pure Vanilla’s bed  (no cookie smut!! This is a wholesome interaction!!) 

anyways I hope you guys all have wonderful weekends and summers and maybe just the rest of the future forever. Although I’m pretty sure yeh conclusion of Eternal Sugar’s beast quest is that you can’t avoid hardships and that the presence of challenges is what makes the victories meaningful 🤷‍♀️

Chapter Text

As far as Shadow Milk cookie was concerned, the lack of warmth in the hospitals was only serving to weaken his dough further. And once again, he’d been left alone with the nurses to deal with the injuries. And they were getting better, slowly, but not nearly enough. He needed to be back in action as soon as possible.

If any of the beasts got wind of what he’d just failed to do, his agenda would be torn apart. And what of his servants? Were they still his servants?

Maybe Black Sapphire cookie was right. This whole revenge plot was tearing him apart at the seams of his very dough.

He remembered being visited by the king, being asked a lot of questions which he gave vague answers for. He didn’t need Pure Vanilla’s friends getting involved in their disputes, not while he was still struggling for control of the stage. The king left with the same old grunt he’d always had. And finally, Shadow Milk cookie was alone again.

He’d tried to sleep that night. Really tried. He could feel the soul jam pulsing underneath his hand, calling from the other side of their tether. Pure Vanilla was waiting for him.

Well, if that silly fool thought he was getting his way just because he was benevolent, he would be dead wrong.

But something in the disappointment that leaked through caught him in a state of remorse. He could recall feeling this way a long time ago, as if his friends cared not for his concerns and warnings.

“Good evening.” Oh wonderful, Black Sapphire cookie again! “I’m leaving in twenty minutes.”

“Oh yeah?” He exerted his strength to push himself to sit, “And what are you doing Here? Expecting a tearful goodbye, I’m guessing.”

Black Sapphire shook his head. “I don’t need to hear you say you’re sorry; I already know that you feel no remorse for how you treated me and Candy Apple cookie.” He wasn’t going to deny it, if that’s what Black Sapphire wanted to believe. “I’m giving you one last chance to see me before one of us crumbles, like you said.”

“Oh please, like I’d die here.”

Black Sapphire held onto his microphone, “I also told Dark Cacao cookie to leave soldiers around to stop you from doing anything stupid while I’m gone. You don’t like sitting still, but if you act out before those wounds are closed, you’re only serving to make it worse.”

“Like I care! Dark enchantress cookie can always build a new body for me.” He flicked his wrist and a little plushie in his image appeared, “And if this is about me being alone, I’ve got so much to keep me company; I don’t Need you or your pity, now go get on your ship, Sapphire.”

Finally, something seemed to snap behind Black Sapphire’s eyes. “You needed me and Candy Apple cookie more than you can ever imagine.” He held up a hand to silence Shadow Milk cookie, “I hope you survive just long enough to come to that conclusion yourself.”

Sigh. So much about coming to realize things. He was the former cookie of knowledge! If there was anybody in the world who had already come to the same conclusions that Black Sapphire wanted so badly, it would’ve been him already. Truly, he did not need the help or company of those mortal cookies who were only going to betray him in the end.

And where did that leave him now?

…

In a hospital bed, the room growing even colder as the last of his trusted allies left him behind, too.

Well, crumbs.

He laid there for a long time, long enough for the sun to have set completely and night to have taken hold. He knew there was only two options; Stay here until the silence and the darkness drove him mad, or go back into his other realm. But in his other realm, there was a chance it could be controlled again. So instead, the real world was preferable. Somewhere real, just far, far away from here.

Ugh. Alright then. At last he relented. He went to go find Pure Vanilla cookie.

And finding Pure Vanilla cookie was all too easy. Despite his fragile body, his magic was still flowing, allowing him to slip away into the other realm and across the world to Pure Vanilla’s bedroom. It certainly took some amount of a toll on his dough; Pain surged through him like a hot iron. But at least he felt strong enough to stand and try to seal the wounds a bit more with his magic. The world outside the windows of his bedroom was blurred like a painting of distant horizons.

And Pure Vanilla cookie himself was buried in his blankets and duvets, golden hair exploding over the pillow. He was snoring away, hilariously enough. Seems he really wasn’t waiting for Shadow Milk after all. Maybe he thought his other half would be too stubborn to show up; and he was nearly right. The pot of tea was sitting by the window sill, not giving off steam, which meant he must’ve allowed it to cool. But when he put his hand to it, it was still too warm for his liking.

Should he wake up Pure Vanilla right now, or go looking around his castle?

He decided on the later without much thought and drifted off down the halls of the vanilla kingdom. There wasn’t much variety in this place, just staggeringly similar white chocolate walls and paintings that got blurrier the further he got from Pure Vanilla’s soul jam. It must’ve been their powers that kept his strength going, and being too far would weaken him. Geez, real inconvenient range of motion here. He was hardly a few corners down and his head was spinning.

He stared at the blots of colour on a painting of an old General, his badge shining through the haze. Same blonde hair and white suit; but the wrinkles on his forehead told him that this was not Pure Vanilla cookie, whose dough was mostly touched by age around his eyes. It was harder to spot when he was smiling, which he seemed to do a lot. Not when Shadow Milk cookie was around. He might’ve been the only one to see how the years had curled up inside him, how heavy his eyes were when he was trudging up to his bedroom in the spire to get some rest.

A disgusting familiarity settled over him. His soul jam pined to be back where it could see clearly. And his body ached too, as if it were begging him to settle down somewhere cozy. Obviously, there had to be somewhere to sit that wasn’t the bed itself.

He decided to return to Pure Vanilla’s bedroom after a long moment of staring down the hall and the doors never growing clearer. The pulse meant his other half had stirred awake. And he was waiting patiently.

When he peered around through the gap he’d left in the door, nothing was changed. Pure Vanilla wasn’t snoring anymore, but he’d hardly moved at all.

If he thought pretending to be asleep would work in his favour, he was playing a fool again.

“Hey, Nilly.” He pushed the door a bit further open. “Vanilly? Pure Vanilla cookie?”

Nothing. As he walked, not floated, over to his bedside he glanced at the teapot and had the mischievous idea of pouring tea on his face to wake him up. What he did instead was reach over and pinch his cheek, and reveled in the pained squint and swift hand that came up to shove him away.

“There you are, sleepyhead. How rude of you to fall asleep during a scheduled meeting.”

“Ugh, it was you that was late.” He pulled the sheet over his head. “You can find the cups in my dresser. Give me a minute.”

“Aww, having sweet dreams? You should’ve told me! I would have haunted them.”

After a moment and a grunt beneath the covers, Pure Vanilla cookie peaked his head out; and looked quite adorable, all tousled and disoriented. His fringe was scattered all over his face and his eyes were still shut with sleepiness. It reminded Shadow Milk cookie of all the times he’d awoken Pure Vanilla from sweet dreams in the spire and he’d had the same look before rubbing his eyes and looking rather annoyed about having to be awake again.

Uncomfortable warmth ignited in his chest.

“So,” he yawned, “You still want tea?”

“This can wait until morning.” Shadow Milk said, mostly because the uncomfortable feeling was persistent and steadily growing with every second his eyes were on the messy cookie before him. He kept his tone nonchalant. “I’d even like that, getting to avoid you for longer.”

“Mhm, and what would you fill your time with?” He rubbed his eyes. “You came here out of boredom, didn’t you?”

Why was his heart thudding so much? Cookies don’t even have hearts! What was possibly providing that pulsing feeling!

“Sure. Boredom and being freezing cold. You should tell your friend I expected better hospitality from his hospitals. Geez, what are you doing, getting a good night’s rest?”

“What else should I be doing?” Finally Pure Vanilla pushed the hair from his face and did a big stretch before slipping out of the covers - how cute, his nightgown was white and gold too! All fluffy and… and warm. A spark of jealousy fluttered through him. “Well alright, I was planning on waiting all night for you. But I figured that you might not appreciate the pressure, so I decided to go to bed after setting down the tea pot, since inevitably you would come and wake me. If not, I’d simply throw the tea into the gardens and go about my day having gotten a proper sleep.”

Leave it up to his other half to come up with plots that had at least required some amount of thought. Most cookies didn’t get that far. He still didn’t rival the greatness of-

Ugh. Whatever. “Welp, I’m here now. Might as well get this over with.” He plopped himself down on the seat in front of his dressing table. “I’m not sorry for breaking the promise I made to recruit burning spice cookie and destroy your kingdom.”

Pure Vanilla blinked.

“And yes, it did lead to grave consequences, just like you warned me. I remain firm in my lack of remorse for betraying you.”

And long silence followed those two statements. When Pure Vanilla was brave enough to break it, he was already searching the bedside cabinet. Of course he kept mugs in his beside cabinet. So silly. So like him. Adorable. Gross.

“You know, if you hadn’t brought that up, I feel like we could’ve gone a pretty significant portion of tonight without me having remembered. In my sleepy daze I was more concerned about the tea.”

Shadow Milk scoffed. “Of course you were, pathetic old man.”

“You’ve probably been alive for longer than I haven’t. It is only because dark enchantress cookie wanted to please your ego that she didn’t put all the wrinkles back on your dough.”

“Not true!”

“Can’t trust a liar to say what is and isn’t truth. Do you want to pour your own cup or should I?”

He crossed his arms and flicked his wrist dismissively. Pure Vanilla put a hand to the tea and nodded as if he had reached the same conclusion; it was yet to be room temperature. He poured his own cup anyway, and beckoned Shadow Milk cookie to follow him out into the hallway. Shadow Milk pinned him with a refusing glare but he seemed to pretend he didn’t see it and took his staff off of its perch from the wall. He also reached under his pillow to pull the soul jam out and attach it to his nightgown.

And then he just left. Shadow Milk cookie watched the edges of the door grow less clear cut and let out a long sigh.

He followed Pure Vanilla in the shadows of the castle which the open windows provided lengthy stretches of behind the pots and pillars. It felt like his wound was sizzling, but he ignored it in favour of staying hidden.

Pure Vanilla had gone down to put milk and sugar in his tea.

“Shadow Milk cookie, could you please come out?” He didn’t even need to look in the direction of the shadows on the ceiling. “It’s not fair if you’re just going to hide the whole time. Besides, it’s hurting you.”

He stayed hidden despite this complaint, and Pure Vanilla sighed and stirred more sugar into his tea. And then he left again. It was like He was avoiding the conversation they should’ve been having now. He stopped on the threshold of the kitchen and took his first sip. “If you’re not going to face me, I suppose I’ll just ramble to myself. Shadow Milk cookie, your betrayal deeply hurt me, and I have been struggling to reconcile with you about it.” He stepped over the threshold and started marching down the halls, “As you asked, I did not prepare countermeasures. Call it intuition, I just felt they wouldn’t be necessary in the first place.”

Now he had to step out of the shadows just to make sure he was seeing and hearing this right. Still, he let Pure Vanilla continue his pointless yap, seeing as he was so talkative tonight - a good contrast to the overbearing silence of the hospital.

“I thought you would fail to persuade your allies and I was right, and yet it still pains me to think that you hold such little value in the conditions I laid out for my strength.”

“The conditions were pretty stupid to begin with, to be honest.” He said finally. Pure Vanilla turned with his eyes wide open and full of surprise, as if he wasn’t following the poor bastard around his house for the last five minutes. “What? If you want a heartfelt emotional apology from me, you’re not gonna get one.”

Silence stretched. He put the cup down on a sideboard and reached a tentative hand to his own soul jam. “I suppose I just…” Silence kept stretching, “Wanted to hear it, even if it was a lie.”

“Embracing deceit again, are we?”

“I can’t hide how I feel around you.” He folded his hands over each other, “I don’t want to pretend to be alright with having this unresolved.”

“Tch, you make it sound like I cheated on you.”

To his surprise, Pure Vanilla lightened up at the ridiculous suggestion. “Oh, with Monsieur Burning Spice? He’s very spontaneous, that would be exactly your type of-“

“Alright, Shut up.” He drifted past Pure Vanilla and heard the annoying sound of his amusement following him down the hall. He wasn't even certain of where he was going.

Eventually he saw a big glass door and a lot of plants. The polar opposite of an ideal place to hide in shadow. But Pure Vanilla caught up to him before he could continue and grabbed his hand - oh wow, he was comparatively sizzling.

“Wait. Come into the gardens with me. You’ll like it.” He didn’t wait for an answer, dragging the beast alongside him through the doors. What he saw was a variety of plants all flourishing under the moonlight which poured in from all angles. The walls and ceiling were high and made of glass. He imagined it got quite humid during the days where the sun shone relentlessly.

Of course Pure Vanilla took up gardening. It was so alike him to care for plants to fulfill that dreadful need of his to be the ever-benevolent savior when his people weren’t in danger. What a pointless duty.

“What do you think?”

Was that meant to signal he could hear? No, their connection didn’t go That far, right?

“What answer are you expecting me to give?”

Pure Vanilla shrugged. Any answer at all?

“I think this is a massive waste of time.”

“So you aren’t paying attention. Bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“Listen, I don’t need a fancy setting, in fact I don’t need to be here at all; I already said I wasn’t sorry, didn’t I? If you feel genuine pain at my betrayal, keep it between yourself and your ego. Any cookie who knows of me would know that I am the last person who would keep their end of a deal.”

Pure Vanilla stopped them before the white lilies - all too intentional - and dropped his hand. “Do you think she feels any real remorse for what she’s done?” He didn’t need to say his answer, since Pure Vanilla carried on as if it didn’t matter, “She still apologised to everyone around her. So odd for someone so violent to want forgiveness.”

“What’s your point?”

“I believe you when you say you feel no remorse for betraying me. But that does not mean you can leave me with this sorrow.”

“Stilllll not saying it.”

“In that case, Shadow Milk cookie, I don’t want you to express remorse. In fact, I don’t even think it matters. What I want is another promise: say that you won’t hurt me like that again.”

Another silence. He could hear crickets chirping. He cannot be serious. He was joking, right? This was another trick and soon enough that awful smile would come upon his face and he’d again declare himself a winner. So why did his eyes still have that expectation in them?

“I can see that you are confused, let me reiterate; I’m being fully serious.”

“No way!” And finally the laughter spilled out - a bit forced, admittedly, but he couldn’t help the real amusement that conjured up inside of him. “Are you playing stupid? I am only ever going to break that promise to you! How can you of all cookies possibly ask that of me?!”

Pure Vanilla didn’t shiver, he stayed exactly where he wanted to be. “Because I know you’ve been capable of softening your behaviour for me previously.”

He put a hand on his hip - and fought to suppress the wince. That was his bad side. “Oh, you mean like letting you disobey my rules from time to time? Obviously! They’re all stupid constructs anyway, a way to add stakes. You were more interesting being left to your own devices.”

“Then, what would I have to do to make myself that interesting again?” He traced a thumb over the brooch at his neck, a knowing smile creeping onto his face. “You were so desperate a few days ago to have it back, wouldn’t you say you would give anything to have it?”

“Well…. That’s not-“

“Change your behaviour and it’s all yours.”

Huh? All of it?

“You think you can trick me of all people Again? Witches, you are such a terrible liar.” Shadow Milk swept a hand and the place darkened. “If I want your soul jam, I can just take it, can’t I? But I think I’ve already said it before that I don’t want your soul jam,” He came closer to grab at the fluffy lining of Pure Vanilla’s dressing gown, “I want revenge.”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes locked right onto his - for someone who was partially blind, his focus sure was clearer than it used to be. “Fine. Have your revenge, however you want it.” The quiet relenting tone put an itch in his dough, like he needed to tear something apart. Or maybe just choke this stupid gnat until his dough turned pale. He put his hands around his neck and squeezed. Pure Vanilla didn’t seem too bothered by this, or at least he didn’t put up much resistance to it, but he still tried gasping for air as he was being lifted just a few centimetres off the ground.

Or, maybe, he needed to burn this whole room to ashes - and with that came the awful flash of memories associated with flames and ashes.

But instead of any vision of the Great Destroyer, he saw a mansion lit aflame, his body aching and his hands scraping against rubble trying frantically to dig something out, being pulled back.

You can’t save her!

I have to! He gasped, I have to try! I promised- Guilt hit him in the throat, making it impossible to take in any air.

He choked on a breath and let go of his grip of Pure Vanillas neck. The staff clattered to the ground with him and Pure Vanilla scrambled to pick it up before Shadow Milk’s next idea hit him.

But his head was reeling from pain and lack of air - along with the rest of his body. It was like he was on the street again, with the rain pouring and his stomach twisting in disgust.

“God-damnit Pure Vanilla cookie!” He crashed sideways into one of the flower beds. Nothing scratched but his eyes were burning up.

Pure Vanilla clutched his throat as he caught his breath, and leaned on his orchid staff. “My apologies, I shouldn’t have provoked you like that. Shadow Milk cookie?” Upon getting no response he looked over to where Shadow Milk had fallen and his eyes went wide. “Shadow Milk!”

He didn’t pass out. But he’d been paralysed from the moment he fell, with only sound and feeling as his companions. His body felt like it was just narrowly edging into sickness. There was definitely fever, he could feel sweat building under the shadows of his hair. None of his eyes worked, not even the ones on his face. He wasn’t sure if they were shut or he had blacked out. But he could hear the careful steps and Pure Vanilla’s gentle voice telling him to cry it out, to breathe, to stay down. He heard some winced protests emerge from his mouth, though it was mostly gags and pained cries. He also felt warm liquid being fed to him, lukewarm and not milky, though quite sweet. It calmed his senses better than Pure Vanilla’s shushes; Though those also seemed to be the only thing keeping him tethered to the world, so he couldn’t complain.

Between these moments of lucidity he also slipped into faint memories, split second glimpses of his past.

Looking around a rain slick street and landing on a white haired girl clinging to him; sitting in front of a mirror with his hair being brushed through by a purple cookie, a guilty look on both their faces; standing in front of hundreds of cookies, a politician’s lies slipping off his tongue with ease, all to reassure his subjects and throw the blame off himself.

And a repeating sentiment throughout the whole thing; You can’t keep doing this.

He was resting against the soft cotton pillows in a vanilla scented bed. He didn’t need to guess where he was, based on the cookie next to him. He was drinking yet another cup of tea, sat against the headboard. Shadow Milk’s cheek rested against his leg, which was comfortably warmer than everything else, and it smelled like vanilla too. He blinked the drowsiness away and his eyes watered with the adjustment to wakefulness. The droplets sank into Pure Vanilla’s robe as he thought out his first words. He wasn’t sure if the other cookie on this bed even knew he was awake yet, he was probably busy reading a book Shadow Milk couldn’t see from here.

“The tea is cooled to your liking.” Pure Vanilla said before he had a chance to speak. “You can add your own milk - I thought it would be nice if you had a choice in that at least.”

“You treat me with too little caution.” He said, “I could’ve choked you to death.”

“You wouldn’t have been satisfied with killing me. I knew you also wouldn’t have it in you to damage my plants.”

“Tch, liar. You were aware of the possibility, you just weren’t afraid.”

Pure Vanilla hummed. “You’re right; I was expecting it, but it still made me afraid.” He sipped his tea, “You had made me afraid.”

“So why am I in your bed?” He couldn’t sit up. His whole body was So heavy with fatigue. What was this, some kind of sleep spell? “This is a pretty big sign of trust, take that from me.”

“I…” Trust You? “I know that.” Close one.

“Well, clearly then you’re being obtuse on purpose. I can still crumble you right here and now.”

“But you won’t.” Pure Vanilla raised the cup again, “I know because I’ve been here for ages. This book is quite good, would you like me to read-?”

“Oh please. I’m beyond the age of bedtime stories, Pure Vanilla cookie.”

“Maybe of hearing them.” The thunk of porcelain on wood sounded next to him. “You like them though, don’t you?”

Certainly he’d incorporated a few into the design of the spire, that didn’t mean he was childish enough to want to fall asleep to the sound of them.

“Fine.” He said anyway, because he already understood he had no choice, “Because you wanna make me happy, and you think this’ll work.”

“Alright. I’ll start from the beginning, since I’ve already read those parts. Oh, the book is in braille, that’s what I mean by Read.” He specified upon seeing the questioning look on Shadow Milk’s face. Fine then, answering questions before they were even asked. He was clever at least.

And he began the story from the beginning, going over it with his hands and reading the words aloud. He struggled with pronunciation, but his voice was so smooth in the language that it took Shadow Milk cookie a moment to realize it wasn’t transcribed in the native dialect. The names and places sounded more… eastern? He’d heard the language before, not so long ago.

The story opened with a detective and his partner at dinner, discussing a new case file she’d collected information about. Something about a woman and doing things for more than money, though Shadow Milk was largely not paying attention to the plot line.

His mind drifted and he tried to push his body away from Pure Vanilla’s, eventually catching his attention, and causing him to put his other hand onto Shadow Milk’s soul jam. Again with the burning sensation right though his whole body. But at least it was over quicker and he sat up. And Pure Vanilla was quick enough to hand him a tea cup already filled and then handed him the milk pitcher. “I already sweetened it to your liking.”

“You don’t know that.”

Pure Vanilla winked at him - he looked stupid doing it, but not nearly stupid enough to be funny. Annoyance heated his face.

Upon pouring the milk in and taking his first sip - well I’ll be crumbled, he actually did sweeten it beyond sweet - he recognised the taste. That liquid being poured down his throat when he was blacked out. Some sharp aroma to it, even with the milk.

“What is this?”

“Vanilla bean tea.” Pure Vanilla said, “anaesthetic properties. Thought it might help you with… you know.”

“You made an anaesthetic for me but you didn’t want to heal me? You know you can close these wounds with a snap of your fingers, right?”

Pure Vanilla nodded and refilled his cup. “You’d be in my debt, Shadow Milk cookie - and you know exactly what I’d ask of you. I didn’t want to force a change upon you, despite how I’ve been blackmailing you so far.”

“Nothing in the world is so important that you could ever bribe me into becoming less of who I am.”

“Oh of course!” Pure Vanilla insisted, “it’s not your whole personality that I want erased; I just wish you would be kinder to me.”

“I’m being plenty nice and kind by not setting this whole room ablaze or crumbling you or leaving to overtake your kingdom.”

“You’re in no state to get out of bed.” He pushed Shadow Milk’s cup closer to his face. “Drink up. It’ll ease the nerves; I know it works for me. anyway.”

Pff, what nerves, he thought as he took his compliant sips. The sharp taste of the vanilla bean was matched well by the milkiness. If it weren’t for the near immediate calming effects he would’ve done a full sensory analysis on it - a hobby gained upon gaining physical form again, before he was done rebuilding the spire. His head lolled to the side and his eyes drifted shut. The teabag must’ve been left in for quite some time - maybe someone forgot to take it out before slipping into his bed earlier. They should change his name to Lazy Vanilla cookie. Eternal sugar would have him in a trap in seconds. Who’s they? Was he tripping? What on earthbread-

“May I continue?” Pure Vanilla asked. “It’s all practice for my travels across sea, I’m practicing for discussion on-“

“Literature. Sure, whatever.” Shadow Milk was in no state to argue against Pure Vanilla picking the book back up from his lap and continuing to read in that slow dreamy way. He felt his head drop onto Pure Vanilla’s shoulder. In this state he could simply slip away into dreaming, though he knew his dreams wouldn’t hold anything nice for him, so he tried with all his might to stay awake - but the gentle narration of the next chapter only served to lull him further into warm drowsiness. He payed such close attention to the words that he could picture the scene as it was being read - the detective and his suspect, the beautiful woman, in a tea shop in a fictional country mentioned in the first chapter. The walls swirled with colour and the speakers played gentle jazz music. They were sat across from each other with their own pots, her flavour described as a warm cinnamon fruit tea, various flavours rising and falling on the tongue.  The detective had chosen something eerily similar to the flavour of the vanilla bean tea - milky like theirs, the slightest hint of sweetness on the ends after the sharp bitterness of the main flavour had passed.

 Strange, he could swear his dreams were usually not this nice. Not this simple.

Nothing haunted him for the rest of night. Pure Vanilla’s gentle hands petted his hair and the bed creaked as he shifted to join Shadow Milk on his pillows. He had to huddle closer because the duvet was falling off the bed. And what else?

Right. A vision of Candy Apple cookie.

She was sitting in a dining room, clearly not in the spire nor her old home. She was young and she was drawing a picture. A great wizard with bright light coming out of his hands, and banishing spirals of darkness.

At the top, clearly printed as a school assignment, the words “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Were written.

Chapter Text

“You can’t have tea without milk and sugar!”

Black Sapphire had conjured up that tag line last night when he realised the correlation between the modern slang for gossip and his own birth coupled with his job as a gossipy news anchor. It really was meant to be. His first urge as he sat up with the idea was to go find candy apple cookie. But seeing the purple flames from the single lamp hanging from the ceiling in his quarters and remembering where he was, he slowly lowered himself back down and whispered an apology for waking all the other crew that slept in the same room.

Reconciling himself with his true past left a hole in his gut that no amount of pacing, eating or drinking cacao coffee could fix. In fact, those bitter mochas only served to make his pacing more desperate, like he was late for a train and only had five minutes to make it through an entire hallway of turns and twists.

He’d tried climbing up the purple netting to put the fear somewhere else. From the nest he could see the shores, so close and yet never in his reach. His wings helped him float when he fell, slowing the descent to the shiny black floorboards. The wings on his tailcoats were flapping about through the entire journey. Sometimes the boat would rock and he’d be sent tripping backwards.

 He talked as much as he could while the sun was up. Noise complaints wracked up against him as he narrated his every thought from various places on the ship, wether he sat next to the captain at night or climbed up to the crow’s nest at the top of the main mast. He cared not for the complaints. His audience was holding on for him, and he had to repay them by holding on, too.

He asked the date at the start of every day to make sure he hadn’t skipped a day of meals. It didn’t matter, he forgot every single time anyway. The date And his meals.

He threw up his breakfast every day before the sun had reached its peak in the sky. Was this what it was like to live as pure vanilla cookie, who also threw up multiple times a day in the spire? And for someone who skipped all his meals, it was impressive he had anything to throw up at all.

Everyday a new memory appeared to him while he was staring into the black ocean, the putrid smell of liquorice drifting up his nostrils and making him dizzy enough to lose his grip on reality.

The memories came out of order with no specific trigger. It was like knowing the connection between alimony and marriage, but not having a grasp on the concept of divorce yet. A missing step in the process, which you had to assume happened at random with no warning. But there had to be a connection between these visions, the moments of bright rainbow bridges and grass that never wilted and bushes with lush fruits and then the ivory walls painted with dark blue stars, infinite towers of bookshelves and the jewel encrusted arches and students that he knew - and hurt to remember.

Did he have friends before his father drowned him?

The very question had him bent over the side of the boat - one of the crew members had to hold him down to make sure he didn’t tip overboard.

As far as his memories had told him, he’d entered the river of his own accord. There was a level of trust he held in the fount of knowledge, that despite all his suffering he would ensure the safety of his own son as best he could.

It brought him back to when he was staring into those mismatched blue eyes that had lost nearly all their kindness, except for the singular spark which burned with the colours of regret.

“Little sapphire,” he said then, “Do you know who your parents are?”

He’d turned away from his master and started rambling about how it didn’t matter, for he’d been awakened to the true reality, and then he pledged his eternal servitude. He never made sense of the horror that crossed his father’s face; he only saw his Master, the plots and ideas forming with a jam-chilling smirk. If his eyes had ever held love for him after that night, he was too absorbed in his own joy to care; Deceit made him so happy! The sweetest flavour of misconception, yes it was!

The captain called for all hands on deck. He’d joined the crew in ship maintenance, it distracted him from his anguish to be doing something else.

Being all over the ship, processing his past and having so little food inside of him, not to mention the lack of sleep; he was surprised he could still stand. Eventually the crew had to force him down onto a bed to sleep, or at least rest his limbs. They were a stern bunch, completely humourless, not very talkative to him, and frequently wore annoyed expressions when they were looking at him; but two of them were kind enough to raise the concerns of his overworking to the captain who gave everyone special instructions to Not let him help anymore.

It was amusing in its own way.

But it forced him to be there when the new memories hit him. Completely engulfed in it. He could hear the noises of the river and the cookie’s diving in. He could feel the refreshing crash of waves. And then nausea hit him as his mind flashed scenes of his struggle to make it to the other side of the river - was it a struggle? Or was he just trying to make it to the other side as fast as possible?

“Bet you can’t cross the river as fast as me!” Said a girl around his age, in the sugar paradise. She had a determined expression. She wasn’t confident, but she had a fiery spirit. The skies behind her were bright enough to cast a shadow against her face. Her pink hair was tied back in a tight braid that went all the way down to her back.

He stood up from where he’d been kneeling in the shallow part of the river. “Okay, where’s the finish line?”

She pointed across the neon pink river, to a calla lily. “There’s the finish line. Here,” she walked backwards until she was beside a fallen log, “This is the start line. Come here and my brother can count us down.”

“Can I?” Her brother, green haired with lime eyes looked up. He was making a castle out of clay he’d found on the river bank. “Okay, Three, Two-“

“No, when he gets here!”

He lost that time, and maybe that’s where his competitive streak had started. He had gathered it was like that quite often, but somehow it didn’t bleed into his teenage years. At least, not like he expected, but he had yet to recall any times from his adolescence where it showed up majorly. It was mostly just being scorned about the attention that others got for their artwork. His father had to reassure him that popularity didn’t denote quality, and if it did, there’d be a much steeper curve when it came to professional publishing.

And then he went on about a conspiracy theorist whose ramblings were complete nonsense, but he garnered enough attention to send his thesis to the fount of knowledge himself, expecting to be supported.

Somehow, he felt that this had more to do with his unexplained dislike of the Romance Genre.

 Now That had stayed post-fall. He could even recall candy apple cookie hiding her books in the pillows and under the duvet of her coffin bed. Yup, shadow milk cookie would most certainly never check what was hidden There. The massive poster wall, single notebook filled with stickers, drawings and fan fiction, decorative keychain and various vinyl figures of his likeness were enough to solidify that. Where’d she find those, anyhow? Did she pull them out of some other dimension?

Whatever.

Thinking of Candy Apple never did anything to help his mood. Though as he turned on his side, he found himself comforted by the memory of her strange obsession. It was annoying and creepy but he was going to miss her high pitched voice screaming bloody murder every time she’d gotten another short burst of validation from Shadow Milk Cookie.

What day was it?

He’d documented the calendar from the last time he was on land; the trip had taken the entire weekend.

His stomach hurt from lack of nutrition. But at least he was resting. He needed to be resting. Candy apple cookie was waiting for him. She was going to be safe when he found her.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the floor above, the sound of descending stairs and then one of the kinder sailors greeted him with a plate of simple foods.

“We dock soon.” The sailor said. Their hair was tied back in a low pony tail, streaks of cream amongst the brown. Scruffy. Unshaven.

Black Sapphire shut his eyes and hung his arm off the side of his berth, “Thanks, be there in a second.”

He fell asleep as soon as the footsteps retreated. Surprising. He hadn’t managed to do that in a while. Maybe it was knowing he was one step closer to finding her that had settled his nerves. He awoke to the same cookie shaking his shoulder and telling him they had arrived on the coast of the fairy kingdom. Ah, perfect. Right where this whole story began.

And where a new story was about to unfold. But first, he needed allies, resources and a comfier bed. Wether he’d ever find that in the fairy kingdom, that was up to his luck. But one thing he most definitely needed? Some more information on the terrains of beast yeast, since without Shadow Milk’s portals, he would have to traverse the whole continent on foot.

Step one: Find White Lily cookie.

Chapter Text

The presence of the thousands of eyes in Shadow Milk’s spire of deceit made it impossible for him to ever truly be sleeping.

He was always watching, somewhere, like flipping between security cameras.

So long had it been since he’d last been in the realm between conscious and unconscious, sleeping on fuzzy pink clouds despite being in absolute darkness.

Yet, as the soft fuzziness of pre-wakefulness dissipated into awareness, he was hit with the sensation of a pulse in his head - in his whole body. The pulsing was numb at first, just another stimuli to ignore, but as he moved his feet to make sense of reality, the pulsing ignited into something worse - pain.

His temple ached and his arms and legs were cramping. Odd, his wounds from two days ago were the least painful of all.

And then he registered the weight crushing his shoulder; and all the dots connected in a crashing moment of dread.

He was still asleep in Pure Vanilla’s bed.

But just how had that useless little gnat ended up on top of him?

If he was the one on top of Pure Vanilla in this position, he might’ve been able to slip out from under the duvet without disturbing him at all, escaping to where-ever he wanted, but now he was stuck. What if the servants found him like this? He wasn’t in any state to shapeshift with Pure Vanilla’s head still resting on his shoulder. Maybe they wouldn’t recognize him, assuming Pure Vanilla had not attached some kind of doodle of his likeness to the letters he sent out. Did his kingdom even know where he’d been, who he’d fought?

Okay. It would be okay. It’s not like Shadow Milk cookie had plastered banners of himself all over the kingdom. Though it might be a funny idea to do so After he reclaimed the other half of his soul jam, and took over the Vanilla Kingdom.

If he ignored the urgency running in his jam, it was at least comfortable to lay here making up plans of kingdom domination. Certainly leagues better than all the other places he’d been laid to rest for the past few days. The couch in that monkey’s home was alright.

And that’s probably because you were in your other realm. You just need to fall backwards in there without bringing Him with you.

He pushed gently, until Pure Vanilla was lying on his side, arm resting more on the pillow than his shoulder, and his arm resting over Shadow Milk’s stomach.

Oh god, this was unfairly comforting.

He pushed that thought away and slipped into the silky darkness of his other realm. Much better?

No, just different.

He landed in the hospital bed and immediately regretted leaving the warmth behind. There was noise all around him, cookies running and nurses conversing. A crowd of them came in the room and all went pale - pale as you could get, having such dark dough.

One of them said something in chocolish (is that the native language idk) that translated to “I swear he was just gone!” And the other nurses nodded and said similar.

One came over and checked all his vitals, being far more forceful in holding him down.

“Did you run away, little cookie?” An old nurse said, “You were gone the whole morning.”

“N-no!” He insisted, “I was right here the whole time!” And he knew this lie would probably create some really juicy rumours if black sapphire was around to catch the idea. Pity he wasn’t.

After that, the nurses had decided they needed to document this phenomenon, even considering calling on the king.

“Why, that’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?” He tried to say, “His majesty taking time out of his day to check up on a humble passerby in his kingdom?”

The nurses exchanged glances. A few whispered to each other before two left and the remaining nurses fussed over him again.

It stayed going like that, and he was bored out of his mind about it for ages. He felt like he’d aged twice his lifespan by the time something caught his attention behind the clueless nurses. A spot of yellow amongst all the purple and white and grey. Pure Vanilla cookie? His vision was hazy due to the medicine they put in it. How they knew the spice had affected his vision enough to need care, he had no idea. Perhaps his eyes were still bloodshot - but then why wouldn’t Pure Vanilla have pointed it out last night?

No, enough about that stupid cookie. The one behind the nurses was probably another hallucination. He’d done it before, in the dessert. Who said he wasn’t going to use that power again just to spy on his other half.

When the nurses finally left, Pure Vanilla turned his head as if to watch them go. Then he folded his hands together and smiled. “They’re quite persistent, aren’t they? No surprise, considering their patient is already halfway crumbled.”

“Hey now, you could’ve healed me anytime you know.” He made sure to be quiet, since those nurses perked up at just about anything. “What are you doing here, came to spy on my daily activities of doing just about nothing?”

“Oh, I was pretty sure there was something I’d left unfinished last night, I just don’t remember what it is now.” He massaged his temples, “Lack of sleep, you’ll have to forgive me. I woke up early and went to bed extremely late; and my dreams were so odd, I think You were trying to drown me so I’d be forcibly rehydrated.”

A beat of silence passed them.

“A lot more happened after that, if you’re curious-“

“Not curious.” Shadow Milk said to switch the topic, “Let me guess, you still want that apology, huh?”

Pure Vanilla pulled up a chair and nodded. “Yes, that’s it.”

“Still not getting it though.” Shadow Milk shut his eyes and turned his face away. “There, see? Time saved, go back to the vanilla kingdom and let me have my rest.”

“Oh, Shadow Milk…” But predictably, the saint stayed by his side, and even smoothed a cool hand over his forehead. “Alright, it’s not the Only reason why I came here.”

“Oh yeah? Miss me too much, Nilly?”

A pause in his breath said his answer before his words did. “Maybe I did.” That had Shadow Milk’s hair shivering awake just to check he’d heard that right. “Don’t deny it; you miss me too sometimes.”

He snorted. “You’ll be hard pressed to find Me missing anybody. Lives are temporary, even ours.”

But Pure Vanilla only smiled, that annoying one that tended to light up whole rooms. “Hard pressed? Then call me a diamond.”

“Get out, Pure Vanilla.”

And the two fell silent again. In that gap between words, Shadow Milk thought of nothing. It was a soft, easy peace that he had never gotten with Pure Vanilla yet, even in his bed. He still bristled at the thought that Pure Vanilla had allowed him to sleep for the whole night there - didn’t he have any sense of self preservation?

Eventually, the pair made eye contact, for the briefest flicker of a second, and it felt far too personal, like accidentally walking in on someone changing clothes.

And unfortunately for him, Pure Vanilla took it as a cue to speak again.

“I believe the worst wounds are often suffered in silence - but that is usually because those who suffer do not have a choice in the matter. Even if they did, it is a consequence of their pain that they push everyone away.”

Shadow Milk groaned. He did not need this stupid lecturing coming from Pure Vanilla of all cookies!

“Come back tonight.”

Huh?

He waited with a slightly raised brow for Pure Vanilla continue, or to repeat himself at least. “Come back to my kingdom tonight, Shadow Milk cookie.”

“Tsk. I already said I wasn’t apologetic. Can’t you accept that, being the Herald of Truth?”

“This is not about remorse; it is about companionship. I have time still before I must depart for hollyberry’s feast. It is pointless to wile away in our separate environments while we recuperate.”

“I’m still evil, and I hate you, and I’m gonna make your life hell, in case you’re intentionally being foolish again.”

Pure Vanilla did not hesitate. “I know. In that case, I would like for you to fill my time with your terrible jokes, quiz shows and lengthy lectures about the world before us ancient heroes. Anything would be better than this unverified silence around my kingdom.”

Delusional. The Herald of Truth was being delusional.

“Remember when you said I’ve told better lies in my sleep?”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes widened. He certainly looked like he was going to quote the exact place he’d said it, but his eyes fell and he tapped his chin. “No, actually. When did I say that?”

Shadow Milk thought on it. He was right; he’d never said that before. “Must’ve been a dream. Anyway, I think You of all cookies have said better lies fully awake, fully sober, and completely within your mind; that being the one dedicated to Truth.”

Pure Vanilla put a hand to his soul jam. “Well alright then. I don’t want you to be cruel, I’ve said as much. But I would like you to be there.”

Shadow Milk groaned. “Why, Nilly?”

Pure Vanilla finally stood and drew closer to Shadow Milk. “Because I’m alone, just like you.” He wasn’t! He wasn’t Lonely! “I know my friends wait for me in the future. Their value is to me the same as my own life. But you, Shadow Milk, intrigue me so; you have a potential companion who could understand you wholeheartedly, and yet you reject it at every turn.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. This annoying gnat was really just going to have this talk with him until he crumbled, Huh? He could hear the sound of his robes swishing about, and his hands pushing the material of the hospital bed down as he leaned his weight on it.

“Look at me, Milky.”

Milky, what a stupid nickname. He hated even more coming from Pure Vanilla’s mouth. But, he did understand that his other half was shockingly persistent, so he obliged; He peaked just one eye open, and couldn’t decide if he regretted it or not.

“I’ve told you the Truth behind my visit, now you have to say you’re sorry.” Pure Vanilla said ever so politely, as if he wasn’t leaning down over Shadow Milk like a panther about to feed.

“About three days ago?”

“No, you also did some damage to the flower beds in my greenhouse.” He started smiling like it was super funny, the kind of prank a child would pull on their friend, like telling them the ceiling had the world Gullible written on it. “I want to hear say sorry about it.”

“Is this some kind of mega-specific method of torture?” He simply Had to ask, because there was No Way On Earthbread the Saint of compassion and understanding was This bothered about some flowers. “Like, not to be vulgar, this isn’t a… Thing… that makes your jam buzz, is it?”

Pure Vanilla put a hand to his mouth. “Egads! Well, You’ve said worse.”

“Have I-? Hey, back off!”

Pure Vanilla was leaning closer, making both their soul jams pulse. "If you're curious, it's really just because I want to know what it sounds like when you say it. I've read your memories, and it always seems like your throat gets too tight to say it when it's necessary."

“Uh uh, let me guess, you saw me and misty hanging out behind the forks? Not a story I’m going to recall just to tell you.”

“Oh of course not, but-“ even closer, and the soul jams’ tether started becoming magnetic, despite how Pure Vanilla was using his powers of hallucinations or what have you. It should’ve been impossible. But, the dull, thoughtless throb of connection started ringing in his ear, combined with an annoying static sound as Pure Vanilla mindlessly yapped on.

The longer they kept their soul jams in this proximity, the more alive the tether felt, a raw energy which translated into desire not unlike wanting to consume, to combine oneself with the wave that loomed over them.

“Vanilly. Space, please.” He pleaded.

“You can apologize for the flowers, and I promise I’ll go.”

“No. You don’t get it, it won’t matter-“

Pure Vanilla gasped as the tether’s strength hit him. His arms shook and their soul jams grew even closer. “Just say it.”

Shadow Milk was divided at the crossroads of getting it over with and keeping his dignity. It was just a few words. He didn’t have to mean it, right?

So why was his throat so tight?

No, now was not the time. But his mind filled with every wrong he’d ever committed against Pure Vanilla as their memories fused. The last time, there was also a screech coming from their soul jams as they fused, one that was strangely gone today. The pulsating was getting to his head, splitting it with a headache. Pure Vanilla winced. “Goodness, I’m getting nauseous.”

This wasn’t possible. Pure Vanilla wasn’t physically there, so how could their soul jams fuse? They wouldn’t, that’s what! They-

“Say it!”

His arms buckled, and Shadow Milk had a moment of calm within the storm where his decision was made final.

Bearing the weight of a thousand years worth of torment in the spire, he finally choked out the words.

“I’m sorry, Pure Vanilla Cookie.”

Clink!

Chapter Text

Several understandings flashed around in the moments that followed; firstly, he was right about their soul jams not fusing; Secondly, what happened instead was so much worse. Painful, bright and overwhelming. And cold, very cold. Pure Vanilla screamed and Shadow Milk could feel from the force of magnetism that he was trying his best to drag his soul jam away, though it seemed to be resisting his command, so close yet so far from the one thing it wanted most - being whole again.

It overrode both their minds. For a second, he could even hear himself, speaking clearly. But his audio processing cut out before he could really know what was said.

The memories were more like burnt photographs, the negative space left after printing. He could hardly make heads or tails of what he saw, at least until the heat kicked back in. Just which heat was unclear. Everything that burnt, burnt the same to him. It always brought him back to the three same things; The village, the mansion and the ovens.

But the cold? It was everywhere.

Permeated the other realm, froze the rivers up north in the land of silence, and it chilled his dough in the hospital, and it cracked and pulsed through every bit of him now.

Witches, just make it stop, I’ll do anything, anything at all. Just get it away from me.

For a second, he could swear he glimpsed the red and black horns of a former ally before it all exploded into white again.

And then there was a cold, sharp pain in his throat.

Even if it changed you?

What?

Do you intend to keep that promise, even if it required a sacrifice?

Those were words spoken by the fairy guardian. Shadow Milk knew it like the back of his hair - he’d caught fragments of it over the years and years stuck in the tree.

Pure Vanilla cookie looked at the guardian with a newfound resolution. “If my life was the price, it would still be a worthy sacrifice.”

The next image was of Pure Vanilla cookie holding White Lily cookie’s hands as he said, “Then let us fight for cookie kind together!”

Why? Why show these memories, out of all the ones he could have? The vision changed and finally, a scene with Him in it! He stood on his large stage, papier-mâché ancients dangling about as his voice boomed loud and confident over the audience of terrified faces.

“Which one of these cookies is merely Half a cookie?”

Oh, the easiest question - all of them! Wretched thieves who had taken a power that they didn’t deserve!  And finally, Pure Vanilla stepped forward. “The correct answer is… all of them.”

Hah! He looked so sad when he said it, and all his friends gaped at him. Truly, plot twist of the century!

“But there is something you failed to mention.”

Ugh, leave it to the Light of Truth to ruin his trip down memory lane. “What do you want?”

“Dualities exist to limit. Just as I am only half a cookie, so are you. And you will be,

Forever.

Forever.

Forever.

Forever.

Forever.”

The connection cut off abruptly, and he was left gasping, vision swimming on the ceiling lights. Ceiling lights? Certainly, there were spots in his vision, but he couldn’t remember there being ceiling lights. So perhaps, was this a memory?

No. No maybe it was another room.

Shoot. The nurses saw?

His mind raced through thoughts like this for ages, and if he had a heart like the witches did, it would be pounding. Where was his soul jam, was it still attached to his body?

Wait, how’d his soul jam even appear on his body if he was in disguise. Wasn’t he in disguise?

His jam ran cold. The eyes in my hair. I was using them to communicate with Pure Vanilla.

Did the nurses see?

Could they see now?

No, no he couldn’t risk to check. What if someone had told the King, His Majesty Dark Cacao, completely unmerciful in his resolution to cleanse this world of evil - even beasts disguised as hospital patients. What if he crumbled under his own idiocy?

Witches, he couldn’t be thinking like this. He needed to calm himself, or else the nurses would Definitely know of his Beast identity. Alright, alright. He was the beast of deceit - if he couldn’t trick them into doing what benefited him, then all hope was lost. And, as much as he enjoyed the idea, hope was never, Ever lost. His other half had proven that well enough.

The cold cloth on his forehead did enough to pull him back to reality - he was sweating all over, and the burn marks on his legs were visible from this angle. Damn, not even a pseudo-soul fusion could rid him of those damn scars. But no soul jam visible. It must’ve only appeared when Pure Vanilla was nearby and he’d let his disguise falter.

“Patient is awake. Ring the head doctor.”

A few footsteps faded outside and a cookie with purple eyes and the darkest shade of dough leaned over him, stethoscope at the ready.

“Do you know your own name?”

Crumbs. What was he meant to say here? Searching for the first thing that came to mind, he latched onto a dream sequence he’d had half a week ago.

“Blueberry milk cookie.”

Alright, a little on the nose, but not bad.

“Do you know what happened to you?” The nurse asked next. Did She? Hah! Not a chance. “You had a seizure.” She said when his silence stretched too far.

Alright, that was plausible, at least it didn’t look like he was being stretched across timelines while his other half tried to pull their powers apart across a whole continent. Quantum mechanics, love to hate it!

“How long am I going to be under surveillance for?”

“Not long, we will give you time to rest, it is good that you stay asleep. We will put you under anaesthesia to ensure no more happens until we can get a trained professional to look at the causes.”

What, as if the other doctors weren’t trained professionals in the field of nerve disorders? Agh, what was it about cookies and falling behind? Honestly, if I had known they were going to be this far behind in my absence, maybe I would’ve had second thoughts on becoming a jester.

Well, fine! He would just have to bide his time. After all, the greatest things lay in waiting!

***

Whatever dosage it took to put a cookie under, Shadow Milk's beastly status served to make that threshold significantly higher. It worked, for about an hour or two. But he was already mostly awake by the time the nurses were all packing up to leave. Of course, he'd pretended to be asleep, mostly by play-acting dead.

What really signalled to him that he was all alone was the sound of robes shifting and a small creak as someone sat down in the nurse’s chair. A faint glow emanated where the newcomer was sitting.

“Shadow Milk?"

Where he was expecting disgust and hatred, his heart grew lighter at the sound of Pure Vanilla calling out to him.

If he was really here, the nurses must’ve left. That’s why he was so relieved to hear his voice, nothing more.

He slowly opened his eyes and sat up. Pure Vanilla was sitting with his hands in his lap, looking at the medicine cabinet instead of Shadow Milk’s face like he was trying not to think of anything except the contents.

"What made you come back?" Shadow Milk didn't know why he was asking, especially when he shouldn't want that darned fool to ever speak to him again. "You know, you could’ve left me here and we could go back to being mortal enemies. I would’ve been satisfied with that.”

“I wouldn’t.” Pure Vanilla said, “I owe you an apology.” His hand twitched as if he was going to reach out. “I’m so sorry, Shadow Milk. I didn’t know it was going to hurt.”

Ugh.

“Is that all? You can go then, I forgive you.” Obviously a lie, which Pure Vanilla spotted with a short flick of his eyes on Shadow Milk’s face. “Oh, come on. Do you want me to be sincere, or just feed your fragile ego?”

Pure Vanilla stared at his nails. He’d been biting them really bad again, seeming to forget to grow them back to normal. Or maybe he’d just done it too recently.

“I don’t know. I guess I don’t expect to be forgiven easily after that. I just wanted you to know I never meant to hurt you.”

This fool, seriously! “You probably should’ve said that when you first betrayed me. You never said sorry when it tore me apart to watch you leave my side.”

Pure Vanilla’s gaze sharpened and he finally looked at Shadow Milk instead of throwing glances at him. “You were upset about our separation too? But you left as soon as you got the chance!”

Shadow Milk stopped in his thoughts. Did he really just admit that? “No. No, I’m kidding again.” He said quickly. But Pure Vanilla kept looking at him, with that horrible pity, the same as in the spire. Stop it, stop it!

“I had no idea. I suppose I have a lot to make up for then, don’t I?” Witches, No! He was not about to get all annoying and soft on his own worst enemy, surely not! “Shadow Milk, are you alright?”

“Can you just… I don’t know. I don’t know. But it was my choice to leave. I didn’t want to look at you anymore.” Why, no matter what he said, did it feel like he was being too open? This wasn’t his thing! He was meant to taunt Pure Vanilla, undermine his compassionate feelings for him. He should be taking advantage of this gnat!

So why didn’t he want to?

“It’s okay, Shadow Milk. You’re so scared, aren’t you?”

“Why does everybody say that!” He flexed his fingers. “I don’t embody fear, I don’t! Whatever weakness you’re seeing, it’s not real, can’t you see that? Or is my method acting so good that you can’t distinguish-“

Pure Vanilla had his arms wrapped around Shadow Milk cookie before he could finish what he was saying. “But you are, Shadow Milk, you’re afraid.”

Afraid of what?

This came up before, he could remember from a few nights ago. Loss, was it?

Yeah, alright. He’d lost a few things on this journey. His power, both his servants, his ability to move freely, and now his ability to even escape. If the nurses discovered he fled his bed, inevitably they would call upon Dark Cacao, and then who knew what would happen? Would he search for Pure Vanilla cookie, would he rally the other ancients, knowing a beast was lurking? They’d all be gathered together for some feast soon, it wouldn’t be that hard to organise a plan to track and kill him - And Pure Vanilla, for all his kind smiles and over-saccharine comfort,  would not be strong enough to stop it. He could plead, beg, use his experience in trickery from the spire to manipulate their views, but it would not be enough.

So, his options were either to stay in the hospital and bide his time, trapping him in boredom, or to risk the freedom Pure Vanilla was offering, or to escape by himself, and risk worse things happening.

And that wasn’t even mentioning Burning Spice cookie, who was probably looking for a rematch. It made his eyes well up. Gosh, maybe Pure Vanilla was right.

He was absolutely terrified of everything.

But that didn’t mean he was going to return this hug!

…

…Until he felt Pure Vanilla begin to shake in his embrace. When he allowed the tendrils of darkness in his hair stretch out again and see what was going on, the cookie of Truth was burying his face in Shadow Milk’s shoulder, face scrunched with overwhelming emotions.

“What… Hey, Nilly. I’m supposed to the victim here. Stop crying.”

“I’m sorry!” His voice was pitched, strained. “I was crying before this, I honestly thought it was over.” He pulled Shadow Milk even tighter, and his soul jam brushed Shadow Milk’s bare chest for just a second - thankfully, no more fusion stuff was happening, but he did catch a glimpse of Pure Vanilla sitting on his bed staring blankly ahead, hand tight on his soul jam and the tears falling from his face in silence. He turned to lay back down, eyes still wide and staring up at the canopy over his bed. He also unfortunately had the luxury of feeling the deep regret and anguish paired with the scene; the same anguish that still haunted Pure Vanilla now.

“I promise, if I was still able to control it like I used to, you would still be the centre of attention. I’m so sorry, really.”

“Honestly, you’re apologising to the wrong person for your selfish outbursts.” Despite himself, he put an arm around Pure Vanilla’s shoulders and pulled him close, “But sure, whatever. I don’t know what I’m doing, just so you know.”

A small giggle escaped between the sobs. “You’re okay. Say it, tell me it’s okay.”

Oh, and just pretend to forgive him for stealing the spotlight like that? Fine, “You’re okay. Gosh, you are so needy, you know that?”

“Mhm.” Another quiet strained sound escaped out. “I know.”

No, that was a joke! His heart twisted with slight regret. But what could he do? This wasn’t his job! Someone else, maybe Dark Cacao or those stupid nurses would know how to help the poor cookie clinging to him. “It’s okay, Nilly. You’re okay.” He was sure it didn’t sound convincing at all, but Pure Vanilla moved to get- on the bed with him?! “Woah there, careful. We’re not alone in this building, you know.”

“Shut up.” Pure Vanilla nuzzled his face into Shadow Milk’s loose hospital robes. “Let me have this.”

Wait, why was he even entertaining this? He should be highly amused by the sight if his other half being so emotional, so vulnerable, so Weak.

…

But, that tinge of sadism had elected not to show itself, replaced instead of something heavy. None of it felt right, wether it be the idea of making the pain worse or trying to mend it. He wasn’t the comforting kind, hadn’t tried to do it in centuries, and yet…

Was it their connection that had forged this hurt within his soul?

In that case, this was not his anguish, but his other half’s, and if he wanted it to be over, he would Have to help him. Even if the shadows of doubt within him screamed in defiance. Who was he right now anyway? Not the beast of deceit, certainly not the master of trickery and lies.

“It’s going to be alright, Pure Vanilla, just… I don’t know, hold on? It’s not like you’re dying.”

“Breathe,” he said, “You’re trying to tell me to breathe.”

“Pfff, You don’t even need my help. I don’t know why you’re tossing the burden of your feelings onto me.”  He ran a hand through Pure Vanilla’s hair, all it’s soft silky - and Awful and Terrible - delightfulness. Gosh, he was getting worse at denying how nice it felt to be in his presence. Not the time. Seriously, not the time.

“It’s because. I don’t know. I think I’ve said about me being alone. Only you could understand what made me so upset. And, I don’t want to burden anybody else.”

“Well shoot, Vanilly. You sound like you’re entrusting Me of all cookies with your feelings. Haven’t I told you that’s a stupid idea?”

He heard a small grunt like Pure Vanilla was smiling through the tears, “I was trying to go with your theme of burdens, so this is more like a punishment, but yes, I do trust you. I’m sorry if that bothers you.”

Why?

What on earthbread was this delusional little saint so obsessed with trying to redeem him for? “You’re gonna regret that, Pure Vanilla Cookie.”

Pure Vanilla shifted to put more of his weight onto Shadow Milk cookie. “I don’t hold regrets anymore. It’s all just cause and effect.”

Both of them fell silent and it continued on like that, things finally getting better after that point. It seemed that his efforts were paying off, because Pure Vanilla’s sobbing  turned into unsteady breaths, and then into deep sighs. But his eyes wouldn’t open back up, despite his claims that he was still awake.

“If you fall asleep, the nurses are going to find you.”

Pure Vanilla hummed, sleep muffling it as he drew his arms tighter around Shadow Milk’s waist, “you messed with my memories, just mess with theirs.”

“There’s no way this is comfortable for you.”

“Wrong.”

“I’m going to strangle you in your sleep.”

“Wrong again.”

“Get off me, Pure Vanilla cookie.” And to that, Pure Vanilla’s mismatched eyes finally opened a little to stare at him. A tiny quiver went through his heart. “No.” Was all he said before shutting his eyes and returning to sleep. This damned cookie. A stupid little smile crept onto Shadow Milk’s face, defying all the things within him that should’ve made him cruel and violent in this moment.

Instead, he chose to be quiet, and let sleep overtake him too. Whatever happened to Pure Vanilla, that was not his problem. And besides… the weight was comfy, he was allowed to indulge himself on that at least, right?

Chapter Text

When Pure Vanilla came to, his senses were greeted by the warm familiarity of his bed. Had Shadow Milk cookie done the favor of returning him to the vanilla kingdom? How chivalrous.

He’d need to thank the beast when they next met. It was well worth the risk of being seen, his stomach was shifting around like it was waiting. Anticipating. His head spun like he’d been falling around and around in the air for miles.

What day was it?  When he flipped out of the sheets to check his to-do list, and that is to say he rolled onto the floor and crawled over to his vanity to do so, he figured it must be Sunday by now. Holding back the gag building in his throat, he stared at his blurry reflection and saw the clumpy texture of his icing. He was sweating all over. Crumbs, he hadn’t washed himself since returning from the spire. So much grease buildup.

He sat down on the plush stool next to the vanity and waited for his jam to stop squirming before he put it on his agenda to take a bath immediately. Then he fished his bathrobe out of the closet (which he would also have to reorganise eventually) and padded down to the bathroom, being reminded that he had servants to help only when he saw the bell on the shelf next to all his shampoos.

Back in the spire, he didn’t need servants to wash him, in fact he didn’t really need to shower at all, but he still did in the interest of keeping a habit. Shadow Milk mocked him relentlessly for being so concerned with keeping his purity when he was already so ruined by Deceit.

That’s funny, seeing as he was the one who’d made an entire swimming pool as his “Private Milk Bath” and even allowed Pure Vanilla to use it during his time in the spire.

The servants arrived to shove him into the quickly rising water - scalding hot, just like he liked it. He let the memory flood back to him as the servants scrubbed his hair (and politely complained about the length.)

***

Spending so long in the spire, maybe a few months at least, meant that he had to grow used to the customs of bathing there, too.

The first time, after he’d fallen from the very top of the spire, he was a mess. He’d passed out mid-fall, starting the series of multiple selves running through the spire simultaneously. One such iteration woke up tangled up in a bunch of brushes, some of which scrapped his dough as the servants of pulled him out.

He was exhausted. Every limb in his body had lost its desire to move ever again. And beneath the surface, so, so much anguish. Hatred and fear and despair. It all coiled around within him like a pack of snakes.

“Be careful, brat. Master wants him with all his limbs.”

“Well, you try moving this uncooperative dirtbag and see how hard it is!”

It’s ironic, really. The way up to the bathhouse was a real doozy - the stairs wouldn’t stop spinning because of the arguments the pair had back and forth, eventually turning into blaming each other for the difficulty with which they carried him.

“You need to be quiet so the stairs stop moving.”

“And You need to stop telling me to be quiet or else they never will!”

He’d probably thrown up a couple times just from that alone, nevermind the way he’d had to hold it back whilst being tossed before their master: the jester floated above a massive swimming pool full of milk. He loathed to see that blue freak again.

“Ooo, you look absolutely disgusting!” He came closer to appraise the dirt in his hair and under his fingernails, and the small scratches on his legs. “Terrible luck, really! To have fallen into those berry bushes before they ever got to bloom. Well, you know what they say;  sometimes cookies grow up better in cold weather. So! Are you ready to embrace the darkness? Decide upon a new moody look? Get all those pesky thoughts of self loathing and channel them into your new appearance?”

He stared at the tiles, so pristine and perfect, and saw his reflection - his hair had sticks in it, not to mention how his clothes were stained with some juice from the berries. His eyes were bloodshot and a tear fell out as he appraised it all; so dirty and impure. He didn’t belong here at all. “Whatever makes you leave my friends alone.”

To this Shadow Milk blew out a laugh. “Your friends? What friends? Who said anything… ohhhh, you’re trusting them to come save you! That’s cute, really cute. But! I doubt they’ll find you here; these are My private milk baths, and I don’t let just anybody use them.”

He summoned his staff and Pure Vanilla floated up, his robes swishing around in an invisible light breeze. “Well, first things first, I hope you’re comfortable taking these off, since you won’t be getting them back for a While.”

He’d banished his servants away and done the dirty work of taking Pure Vanilla’s robes off himself - using magic, of course - and dropped him immediately into the milk pool. The fact there wasn’t a layer of ice on the surface of the pool was impressive for just how freezing it really was.

“Now, I know I Just dropped you in, but you do need to decide on a temperature.”

The pool was deep enough that he sank right to the bottom and hardly heard the beast ask for his preference. Several seconds passed before he was lifted by his hair and the mismatched blue eyes were ever so slightly less patient with him. “Did you hear me? I said, Chose a temperature.”

“I don’t care.” He meant to say it with more defiance, but his eyes were lidded and falling even further until it was all dark again.

“Huh, well I didn’t have that riddler call you The Sun just for you to like your baths at subzero. Whatever, suffer all you want.” He dropped the poor thing back in the milk bath and the water heated to a more pleasant lukewarm. “There, made it feel like the surface of the ocean outside when it’s summer. Don’t ask, I calculated, it’s 19 degrees Celsius. Enjoy your moment of quiet.”

And he floated out of the room, just like that.

Needless to say a Lot of time was spent crying into the water. And then a lot of time was spent trying to drown himself, but the water would always turn hot enough to burn just a little, forcing him instinctively to try and flee before it turned icy again. Whatever kept his head above the water.

Soon enough, Shadow Milk Cookie reappeared with his arms full of shampoo bottles and dropped them all on the grating next to the pool. “You know you can just ASK for shampoo, right? I wasn’t going to provide it initially, but since you’re still here…?”

“I don’t know why I’m here.” He sighed, “You’re doing this to embarrass me, aren’t you?”

Shadow Milk’s tail coat squinted at him, though the rest of his eyes remained neutral. “Obviously? Okay get over here, I’ll do the shampooing.”

He dragged his guest to a shallow side of the pool where he had to sit in order to be submerged up to his waist, and the beast started lathering his hair with shampoo.

“Why do you bother?” He questioned. To this, Shadow Milk cookie scrubbed harder.

“With making you bathe in general or doing the shampoo for you? My doll, I like to keep my possessions in good condition. And clearly you weren’t going to do it yourself, so-“

“I would if you’d given me shampoo.”

“And! You would’ve tried to drink it before you ever put it in your hair.” He tilted Pure Vanilla’s head back to stare into his eyes, “Don’t even deny it.”

“…Alright.”

“So, as your most gracious host, I’ve decided that I Will Not let you drag your dirty robes through the miles upon miles of my spire that I take Very Good Care Of!! You’ll see that soon enough, this place is a bummer to clean, even with my all powerful magic and many loyal servants. You don’t want them working overtime, do you?” He left the shampoo in his hair and joined him sitting waist deep the milk. “I, like any good boss, Do in fact offer higher rates for overtime. Frankly, I don’t have the financial capacity to pay for so many hours worked at the higher rate, sooo… try to stay clean to avoid bankrupting me, will ya?”

“I wasn’t aware they were getting paid- Ah!” Shadow Milk dragged him by the elbow into the deeper side of the pool.

“Okay, so to wash the shampoo is So straightforward. Just do what you were doing before I got here and it should all just- Poof! And it’s gone!” He submerged himself under the surface to demonstrate. When he came back up, the eyes in his hair were blinking out the excess milk. “Just… try to come back up for air this time!” The joyful tone of his voice was really grating on the nerves.

“I don’t understand you at all. Why does it matter to you whether I live or die?”

“Witches, you are So annoying!” He dove under again, and for a long moment he didn’t return to the surface. Pure Vanilla was inclined to think he’d disappeared, until something cold wrapped around Pure Vanilla’s ankle and he was forcibly dragged into the depths. Like, Really far. His feet kicked the slimy tentacle away and tried to find the floor of the pool, to no avail. Since it was milk instead of water, no light permeated from outside. He was in complete and total darkness. He tried to swim up, but with his vision obscured, he had truly no idea Which way he was swimming. But he could sense it; something huge was lurking in the depths, circling him with avid hunger. He could even hear it now, a gurgling coming from all sides; it was moving down in a spiral, waiting for him to stop so it could strike him down. Or, maybe it was just trying to get low enough that it could turn its head and swim straight back up, opening its jaws with a sickening roar that might break him in half before its fangs could clamp down on him and-

He broke the surface with a sharp gasp. Air, finally, he was never so relieved to be breathing again. He waited to see if the creature he was imaging would crash through the milk to swallow him, but instead Shadow Milk joined him in breaking the surface, his teeth still sharp as ever; in uneven increments, like a snake.

“Oh! You are a good swimmer, why didn’t you tell me that?” The laughter poured out of him like he’d absorbed it in the milk and was wringing it out through his hair, “My years Nilly, it’s been so long since I’ve heard someone’s heart beat that fast!”

Pure Vanilla instinctively reached for his soul jam to calm himself down, his heart dropping even further when he remembered he wasn’t wearing clothes. “Was that you making those sounds?”

“What sounds? Pteh! You didn’t Really think there was a serpent down there, did you?”

Impossible. This little Blueberry was out of his mind.

“What’s that look for? The shampoo is out of your hair, isn’t it? Come back here, I still have to put conditioner in your hair!”

***

Whew. What an intro that was.

The servants tending to his comfortably warm bath were gone now, leaving him the space to remember in silence. In better news, the hum of his jam was gone now, and what replaced it was fatigue, but relaxed fatigue. Relief, one could call it.

Being it Sunday, he hadn’t written anything on his to do list which only left anticipation for the coming week. He could travel over to the Blueberry academy early, or he could go shopping and see if- no, the markets were closed on Sundays. He’d written that into law to stop cookies from overworking themselves. That left him with the options of taking a walk in his garden, cooking for himself for once or inviting golden cheese cookie over for a coffee, maybe taking up some of his creative hobbies. Oh, I have a TBR pile, don’t I?

Anything to distract from his agenda this coming week;

1.  Explore the Blueberry academy on Monday with the little cookies, for the entire day or as long as it took to find what he was looking for.
2.  
    A meeting with the Crème Republic, to discuss a settlement and to appoint leaders in his stead for the weekend.
3. Wednesday, preparing for his trip down to Hollyberry kingdom, probably the only time for rest.
4. Finally, Thursday which would mostly be spent in agonizing wait until he had to travel and arrive on the Friday.
5. Then came a weekend of celebrations that would hopefully not be interrupted by any evil forces, though knowing the Hollyberry kingdom, there was always something.

Whew. On one hand, that felt like no time at all for rest, on the other hand if he wasn’t moving, he’d probably get sick again and then what? No more time spent moping around his castle. He needed to get out and do something, otherwise he’d wind up with another surge of unpleasant memories. Getting out of the spire was bound to leave Some damages, he supposed he couldn’t be too surprised.

He rang the bell and his servants reappeared to help him out of the tub, to dry him, and for the first time since returning to the vanilla kingdom, he had the courage to look at himself in the mirror. The awakening had faded most of the physical scars enough to make his dough look practically freshly baked, although he knew himself too well - he could still see the little lines on his arms, legs, the little ones he’d etched in his side. If he were made of flesh like the witches, it would probably look like growth marks, as he could recall White Lily telling him about; when their bodies grow too fast, it leaves red lines that fade into what could be best described as light stripes in their skin.

Hmm, he liked that idea. He envied it just a little. He, aging at a practically stopped rate, adored the idea that growing up left physical evidence. It was sort of sweet, that they could have that.

And, deep down, he missed having physical evidence to his own growth, physical and emotional. He’d yet to make new scars which was a plus at least, but somehow he also felt it imminent that he would miss it too much – something was going to push him over the edge next week. Was that intuition or just the remains of this morning?

He put on his usual attire, donning another ice cream cone hat, and wrote another love letter, this one addressed to his past self.

He never finished journals, so letters always felt easier, it allowed him to reflect with a clear recipient of the message, allowed him to pick his words in tune with what they might need to hear in order to understand his ideas. A bird perched on his window to watch him write.

He signed it off with a heart in the tail of the A, then folded it over and left it in the basket under his desk. He never sent the letters, because as emotionally open as he was, his friends didn’t know the half of just how intense he could get in his wording sometimes. He doubted anybody other than Hollyberry could bear to read him waxing poetic about how brilliant they were, what they meant to him, and… some more secretive confessions, made a little too late to be thinking rationally.

Did Shadow Milk ever write letters? He surely did not have any recipients, but even so he seemed to enjoy his own company and his very existence so much that it would be no surprise he rambled to himself about his greatness.

…How sad, for a being deprived of love.

Next, he decided to sit down with the book he was reading to Shadow Milk a few nights ago, about the detective and his odd love square.

Oh, Shadow Milk didn’t get to hear that part, all three of the detective’s associates were his love interests, including that bothersome side character who mostly existed as his character foil. Maybe he was reading too hard into the gay subtext.

The scene was so engrossing he hadn’t heard the servant come in to lay a letter on his desk until the door was shut. He finished up the chapter - ending on a cliffhanger, his (job) partner was going to try and lure out the bothersome side character for interrogation - and set the book down to read the letter. For a moment he forgot he wasn’t a character in his book when he flicked the note open and was surprised to see Dark Cacao’s shaky yet elegant scrawl in the vanillian common language.

“To Pure Vanilla cookie,

I will try to keep this short, however too much has happened to truly do so, I urge you forgive my lengthy correspondence.

Firstly, the kingdom has been prospering as usual since my return from the pagoda of apathy. Many of my cookies find themselves more happy to do their work. I myself have been drifting upon clouds in my sleep, a newly attained peace to my days. I’m sure you too have received word from Hollyberry regarding her festivities, and are making preparations to travel to the Hollyberry kingdom soon enough.

I must make a special request of your presence here in the citadel before you do so, however.

I have received a request from a mysterious purple cookie in person to ask for your aid in the hospital; this mysterious cookie would not say their origin, nor their fathers, only that their sickly father needed your help and would not accept anything less than. I still hold my suspicions regarding the pair; they could be beasts for all I know. But I trust your heart, and your judgment. Come see me on Thursday at the latest so you may investigate the situation personally. I will have a room available in my castle for you, should you choose to arrive at any point next week.

And on the topic of castles, how goes your restoration of the vanilla kingdom? I know it will not be the same ever again, but I would like to know how it is coming along, seeing as I will not have the chance to visit anytime before the war against dark enchantress cookie is over.

With respect and love,

Dark Cacao cookie.”

Never had it ever been clearer who the characters were in this story. His intentional forgoing of Black Sapphire’s name stood out. Maybe he was thinking this was an act of respect, to keep him anonymous. No matter, it was Shadow Milk Cookie that really took centre stage in this letter. Black Sapphire’s father, hmm? Surprising amounts of Truth for a cookie of Deceit.

As for whether he could heal Shadow Milk cookie, not a shred of doubt could be spared for it - his frequent proximity to the beast should’ve already healed most of his scars anyhow. But then there was the issue of the burn scars.

He’d seen them on Shadow Milk’s legs and under his robes, and they didn’t seem to get better with time. He’d dealt with burns on cookies before, but this was unique; this was Burning Spice cookie’s power, and the light of compassion might not be able heal it. All the more reason for him to go back to the Blueberry yogurt academy, then. If only for Shadow Milk, to help him, to cure him.

Well, even if he couldn’t, he would accept Shadow Milk as he was, both mental and physical scars.

He would’ve liked to take a closer look at what was beneath those robes though- For Medical Purposes!

After all, Shadow Milk was rather touchy about… touching. Being deprived of any physical contact in the silver tree made him simultaneously jumpy and clingy to any and all forms of physical contact. If he was to heal Shadow Milk’s burns, Pure Vanilla would have to trace the lines and patterns of every scar to better understand the dough being affected so he could reverse it in those affected areas – and only the affected areas, since reversing the overcooking of dough made it become more crumbly if one was not careful. He recalled the stab wound in his side - if there was a burn mark there too, he’d have to lay his hand on it; and that would probably end in that same defiant look in Shadow Milk’s eyes, and the smallest of winces as he caressed that spot, filling it with light. And then, Shadow Milk would close his eyes like he did before, and give himself over to the cold streams of magic. If he was lucky, there might be a contented sigh as Shadow Milk melted into his touch, allowing him to take away all the pain. No no, Shadow Milk was the kind to briefly meet his gaze one last time before slipping away into unconsciousness, smile lazily and ask him wether he was enjoying the sight. Maybe more than enjoying it.

He cut the thought off before he could have a chance to go further. “Witches mercy, Pure Vanilla, get it together!” He hissed to himself. He couldn’t be having these weird thoughts when he faced Shadow Milk in person tonight, or… whenever he next slipped into Pure Vanilla’s life.

Take a walk, he thought, We need to get fresh air. 

***

Much of the space below the main city had re-wilded itself after his return as king, and the trees surrounding the old village was even starting to grow leaves again. He’d thought a few times of fixing up the village to make an inn for weary travelers just looking for a quick rest stop outside the city. The fig forest was just beyond this stretch of land anyway. I’ll mention it on Tuesday with the Crème Republic.

He found a nice little spot to sit and take in the nature. The sounds of the drifting wind and distant rivers flowing took his minds to dance. He inhaled the scent of the wildflowers. The beginnings of springtime bloomed around him.

One day, when he was much older, he might make a proper garden out of this place. For now the messy appearance of it was beautiful in its own right. Tall grasses and weeds crushed under his weight, and the rest of it curling in and getting stuck in his hair. It’d probably be a hassle to get unstuck. Oh, but wasn’t it a blessing to be claimed by nature!

He reached up to his own soul jam, tracing little waves in it. Another question that had lingered on his mind for centuries; why did the soul jams affect his feelings when caressed in certain ways? He tended to put a hand to his soul jam to mute his anxieties when they grew too much, or when speaking to prevent from overwhelming himself. In some cases he used it to intensify his joy, savour that sweet bliss. Sometimes, Soul jams created sensations of their own. That’s not important though. They don’t do that most of the time. Not that he would know. Aha.

In the windy silence, he sank into the dreamy other world; he was sitting in on a lecture about soul jams, how on theme!

The diagram on the board was of Dark Cacao’s purple diamond, and the teacher, vaguely familiar with his key-shaped pointing stick, rambled on about a Soul Jam’s purpose.

“It lends those who have it insurmountable strength and vitality!” The teacher said, “Any questions?”

White Lily, who sat to his left, put her hand up. “What happens if it breaks?”

“Breaks? My Dear, soul jams have never been broken before.” He seemed to light up then, pointing to the sky with one finger, “Well, that’s just another question, another mystery. Maybe you should go through the trials and get yourself one, then we can see!”

Pure Vanilla put his hand up too, “Do they hurt when they’re touched?”

“Hurt, why would they ever?”

“Well, they’re an external organ, like you said. If I poked my eyes out, it would probably hurt.”

The teacher’s smile tightened, “Yes… eyes are rather sensitive, aren’t they? Well in any case.” He flipped his key staff and used it as a pointer, “As it is still a solid rock, I doubt they would produce any feelings - they’re not connected to any nervous system, after all. Anything you feel would be more akin to a sort of soul-mind connection.”

“Souls and minds can be connected?”

The teacher lowered his pointer. “Everything can.” He spread his arms wide and a darkness fell over the room, but only to better contrast thousands of strings that traveled across the ceiling and right past students’ faces. “Everything in this world connects to something. If not, we’d all be dust floating in space. Even space connects. The existence of nothing proves the existence of something; and no matter how small that something is, it is everything, as long as there’s nothing else. Does that make sense?”

The long silence proved his explanation too confusing.

“Well then, how about this? In order to prove nothing exists, you would have to observe nothing; and the fact of observation makes it impossible, because something does exist, and it’s the observer! Like an eye in the void of cold and dark matter; so long as the eye can process its existence, something exists within the void to know nothing else exists.”

“What if the only object in a void didn’t know it existed?” White Lily asked, “Like, it’s just a little ball and there’s nothing else in the darkness, just the ball, but nobody was around to see it. Does it still exist?”

The teacher smiled up at her like she’d just won a prize in theoretical science. “In that case, it exists in a state between existence and non-existence, until someone else observes it. There’s a name for that thought experiment, it’s Schodinger’s Cat.”

If a cat were placed in a box with a device that could kill it at any moment, no one would know whether it is alive or dead until the box is opened again, and therefore one must assume it exists in both states at once..

Pure Vanilla raised his hand one last time. “What if the object knows it exists, but not that nothing else exists?”

“Well,” the teacher said, “That would be a very lonely existence, wouldn’t it?”

He awoke when the sun had hidden itself behind the clouds, and a crow called for him and landed peck him until he batted it away. He found himself in a wide, solitary field, a dull colouring to his environment. A melancholic sense of emptiness spread over the mist dusted field. Why had he stayed so long in this place?

Was it comfort, was it the silence?

After all, why does anybody stay in a place with nothing to do except exist silently? Because it is safe. It is dull, unchanging and unwanted for its non-existance, but with no one else there to expect anything from him, was it any wonder his only solace was in disappearing from the world?

No. That was the mindset of a self he’d left in the spire. One that wanted to be left alone for the rest of eternity. Maybe he was closer to it than he thought. The past is on your heels, Pure Vanilla cookie. The light of truth whispered once in a dream, how will you stop it from colliding with the future?

That’s easy, he said, I vow to live in the present moment, it will act as a barrier between them.

He wished for company. Was Black Raisin nearby, doing her patrols? She had to be if her crows were out this far. Maybe she was training her new recruit, which would explain the distance from the main city.

He crawled onto his knees, and predicted correctly that his insanely long hair would get tangled in the grass. Oh well, another bath would be fine. He needed to get used to scalding hot water again anyway.

He walked around until he found new evidence of Black Raisin cookie’s patrols. The new recruit was skilled but their flaws showed in the form of footprints in the mud. The number of crows also spoke his suspicions out; seven crows, for a secret never to be told. Seems she was expecting nobody to be talking about it. 

Such was the nature of spies; if anybody aside from him knew Black Raisin was training a new spy, it would defeat the point. So he walked the rest of the way back in comfortable silence, knowing someone was watching out for him.

He stopped by the kitchens to make his tea and put in a request for the servers to make a roast jellyham for the meeting with the Crème Republic. And then, back to his room to continue his book, finally.

He read into the late afternoon, and when he finally found a good stop point (the author kept leaving cliffhangers, so he was really engrossed.) he went down to ask about dinner. A servant, Cherry Wafer cookie, stopped in their tracks and looked at him odd.

“What?”

“Nothing. You just never ask about dinner. Are you having someone over?”

Ooo, if only Shadow Milk were here. I mean what-? “No. Unfortunately I am just hungry.”

“Well.” Cherry Wafer clicked their tongue, “Shopping will be done tomorrow, so for now we only have pasta, is pasta okay?”

“Absolutely. My eternal gratitude.” He bowed and strolled into the hall of audiences. The high windows spilled coloured light onto the floor. His staff tapped against the tiles as he approached the confession booth.

 He’d been here several times for solace and prayer when he’d woken up early in the morning with sickness like he’d experienced earlier today.

And normally he did it at an hour where no one would be on the other side of the booth. He’d scheduled the opening hours, he knew there was no entering the hall of audiences on Sunday without permission until six in the evening, when mass was held.

And sure, he understood now that the witches were not all as kind or benevolent as they appeared, but faith is not always so straight forward. Sometimes people prayed because it gave them a structure to live by. The world was a scary open field and nobody knew exactly where or how to stand, and believing there was a higher power guiding their actions gave them a sense of direction.

In his case, people relied on him to be their guiding light, which meant he also had to act as his own higher power. That task weighed on him heavy, much heavier than anybody could imagine, especially when he as just a cookie and not a god was imperfect in his resolution. But if so many cookies carried on for his sake, depending on his light as their source of hope, he had to live up to the title; he had to guide earthbread to peace if it stole his life in the process.

He closed the door and sighed.

“Light of Truth, I have come to make a confession,” he started this way every time, using the light of truth as his witness. It’s easier to talk when you pretend for an audience. “For the past week, a great many things have crossed my mind. And a great many questions have risen, been answered, and been multiplied. This is about tomorrow, where I will cross the shores of the ghost river with Gingerbrave and his friends, search the lost Academy and try to pry out the secrets left behind by its founder; Shadow Milk Cookie.” His name brought up an sensation of being exposed, looked at, seen through. He continued on despite these feelings, “it is a matter of that he has come to me frequently, and so have I to him. I think in some way a truce has formed between us that we will refrain from trying to destroy one another until after the celebrations at the end of next week; which I am still anticipating, though that’s for another night. Tonight in particular, the worry I share with you is…”

Gosh, what was he so afraid of again? 

“Well, I’ll be digging through his past. That might upset him, being seen for what he is. Since it’s not the spire and unless he’s made aware of my plans, he likely won’t want to follow me to the academy, we can trust the sources to be mostly accurate. If I uncover something from his past that he would rather I not see, I’m afraid of making him upset at my invasion of privacy.”

Why do you care?

Oh? Was the light of truth speaking up?

I said, why do you care? The Beast of Deceit does not deserve your pity.

Uh-huh. “Why would that be?”

Think of it this way, my dear; he is a violent, reckless being who only seeks to cause chaos and fear within his victims. Anything left of his past not already tainted by his lies is likely left that way on purpose. If there were any he did not want you seeing, he’d have found and erased it from existence. Even so, he can’t stop you from finding what you will.

“Well, you’re right about all of that… only, should it not make him upset if I discover something that will break or agreement of peace?”

Such as? The light of truth questioned, anything left for you will make you hate him more, is that what you are afraid of? My darling, hating the beast of Deceit is as natural as enjoying the sunlight. Everyone who cares for the world like you do would hate the beast of Deceit.

“That’s not true.” He pointed out, “I love the world with all my heart, and yet I do not hate him.”

Not yet. See how you feel tomorrow, Pure Vanilla Cookie. Perhaps you will not pity that beast so much if you knew the horror of what he is responsible for.

Pure Vanilla sighed and straightened his back. “Because he feels no remorse, is that it? An empty shell of a cookie, with no love and no power to love. Tell me, what purpose does he have, coming to my castle so often if he feels nothing but resentment at everyone and everything?”

What?

“Light of… Truth, I have one confession left to make,” He held still and when the light did not answer, he continued, “I felt it momentarily as our soul jams fused back in the spire. The joy, the victory, and warmth.”

The silence he got in response was straining, like a bowstring stretched too far. “I just want to tell him that he has my forgiveness;” He leaned his head against the wood, “If my only equal told me he wanted to be with me forever, I think my stomach would flip like that too.”

Get out. Get out of the confession booth right now.

He did as he was told and the eye of his staff scan around the church, which remained empty save for the blue cookie sitting high up on the beams with his legs and arms crossed. He was back in his usual form instead of the disguise, ruffle collar included.

“Aren’t you meant to be in hospital receiving treatment for your wounds?”

The beast scoffed. “You’re certainly a wound of your own, you know that Pure Vanilla cookie?”

Pure Vanilla hummed, “Is that your offer to treat me?”

Shadow Milk growled and pushed himself off the beam, slowing his descent and landing gracefully on the back of a pew balanced on one foot. “What has gotten into you these past few days? You’re so bold now, trying to charm Me, the master of this world. I could wipe your pretty face off of earthbread forever if I wanted to.”

Pure Vanilla shifted his weight on one leg, imitating Shadow Milk’s own habit. “You don’t, though. Maybe you should try making me scared for my life again, it worked so well the last two times.”

Shadow Milk hop-scotched over the backs of the chairs and landed safely in the transepts. “There you go again. Don’t be coy, Nilly. Nothing I do will ever scare you again, you’re so annoyingly radical in your acceptance that I’m compelled to believe you’re still a naive little cookie who needs his eyes opened to the cruel realities of this world.”

“Maybe.” Pure Vanilla smiled, “Then enlightened me, O great Fount of Knowledge.”

With his feet on the ground, Shadow Milk was too short to tower over Pure Vanilla, so he opted to taking the lapels of Pure Vanilla’s wafer cone cloak and pulling him in with a sharp toothed smile. “You don’t want to toy with me. I’ll make your brain melt until it starts dripping out your ears, and then I’ll eat the syrupy remains.”

The mental image of Shadow Milk trying to lick the brain-syrup drooling down his cheek was so ridiculous he couldn’t help but laugh. “What about the cleanup? My servants don’t know you, and I’m not going to be alive to clean it.”

Shadow Milk hopped into the air so Pure Vanilla had to turn his eyes up to look at him. “Oh, you’ll be alive, just brainless. Maybe I’ll make you my mindless thrall, put you back in the river and get you to do my bidding forevermore.”

He put both his hands around Shadow Milk’s wrists, “Now, why didn’t you just do that the first time around? Too much value in my stupid, soft personality to let go of it yet?”

“Only to break it.” His grin faltered as he registered the lack of distance between their faces. He pulled himself away, letting go of the wafer cloak and crossing his arms. “Well, It was more fun to break you when you had a full awareness anyway, y’know? If I wiped your mind, there wouldn’t be any satisfaction in your obedience.”

“I recall you said I had a “soft and submissive soul.” You like my defiance though, I take it?”

Shadow Milk cookie’s hair eyes perked up at that. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes widened for a moment as the responses flooded his head. Don’t say anything stupid. He raised a hand, not sure wether to land it on his soul jam or Shadow Milk’s ruffle collar, instead letting it float in the air for the time being, “It’s the difference between training a puppy and taming a snarling old dog, Hm? More rewarding when it finally sits.” His teeth sank into the inner part of his bottom lip, a subconscious effort to get himself to stop talking, “You’re a bit like a snarling dog, you know that?”

The beast sniffed. “I don’t bite.”

“Neither do I, but you’d like it if I did, right?”

Witches mercy.

The incited sound from his other half was both a reward and a punishment, Shadow Milk turned away and put a hand to his face. He didn’t even have the courage to be angry, just speechless. Instantly regret tore through him. You did it. You said something so stupid it got the most shameless beast flustered. Are you proud?

“I’m sorry.”

Shadow Milk inhaled. “You-!” And then he descended into laughter. “You were never like this before I put you through that river.”

Pure Vanilla kept his eyes glued to the floor. “It’s not on purpose, I promise. I guess I’ve just been… having trouble containing myself like I used to. You remember how I started crying yesterday? I know that’s unrelated, it’s just a prime example.”

“Oh, and I guess you just HAPPEN to let it all out around me. Are you going to be like this when you go to that party too?”

No, of course-

Wait, had they ever addressed the Hollyberry feast before? He’d certainly mentioned needing to revise the local slang when Shadow Milk was listening to him read, but surely he hadn’t ever told him Why.

“Letters Nilly, you left them on your bed.” Shadow Milk tapped his foot against the tiles. “Seriously, you are so disorganised.”

“You were in my room?”

“Yes! Where else was I supposed to find you? In a confession booth? Oh wait!” And just then, a servant walked in and stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing the unfamiliar blue cookie floating a few inches off the ground.

“Oh, Milk Soda cookie… This is-“

“I’ll go.” Shadow Milk said before Pure Vanilla dragged him to the ground. “Lost tourist, I was just giving him a short history lesson about the hall of audiences!” He dragged Shadow Milk to the pews. “Eh, any update about dinner?”

“It’s ready.” Milk Soda cookie said. “Is this… newcomer staying?”

The two of them exchanged glances and all of Shadow Milk’s eyes swirled around the room like bugs as he thought about it. Milk Soda seemed a bit unnerved by it, but forced a smile as they all synced up to look at her when he was done thinking. “Only if his Majesty allows.” He said with a mocking undertone in his voice.

Pure Vanilla chose to ignore that though, giving as convincing a smile as possible. “Tell Cherry Wafer there’ll be another bowl needed.”

She bowed and backed out of the room. Pure Vanilla’s shoulders fell with relief when her hand touched the door knob and pulled. He finally looked at the strangely tensed up Shadow Milk who sat on the back of a pew with his hands over his eyes.

The shadowy parts of his hair peaked out to glare.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He said, “I know you don’t like others knowing about you or your predicament. I promise they are merely curious. There is no malicious intent behind their lack of understanding.”

Shadow Milk didn’t move.

“It’s the hunger, Shadow Milk. I get paranoid when I’m low on sustenance too.”

“It’s not paranoia.” Shadow Milk said at last, “You don’t know what it’s like being feared the way I am.”

Oh, this poor soul. Pure Vanilla slowly reached out a hand to smooth over the white strands and pushed them back from the beast’s face.

“Stay by my side then. Cookies might not understand you, but they will try to be open minded if they see me with you.”

 Shadow Milk’s expression softened as he lowered his hands. His eyes dropped to the floor as he folded his hands over each other. “I’m going to ruin your reputation, Saint.”

“If all it takes is my association to a mysterious newcomer, I doubt there was much respect within those cookies to begin with. Let’s get out of here, Darling. Neither of us will feel better by putting off dinner.”

Chapter Text

How does a snarling dog respond to softness?

Bite, tear, growl and rip apart all that dare come near it.

But either Shadow Milk cookie had been muzzled by the injuries and the sweet softness of Pure Vanilla’s hands and the prospect of a meal, or Shadow Milk was downright sick in the head for pretending he was tame.

The anaesthetic coma had been the first of many challenges, coupled with the boredom. Then came having to pretend to be asleep, also coupled with twice the amount of boredom. And the nightmares. Sweat inducing hazes of fear and lack of understanding.

Heart palpitations.

The constant questions on his tongue.

*

Beat Beat Beat.

Maybe if he had been wiser, he would’ve seen the storm. Maybe if he cared more about the world, it wouldn’t have broken so easily.

Beat, Beat, Beat.

But it wasn’t his job to protect the peace. And it shattered with just a single lie. Was it really his fault that the witches had designed it to be so fragile? Was chaos really a consequence, or just a natural state of the world waiting to be set free?

Beat.

Beat, beat.

And as for all the destruction? Boredom, they called it nowadays. Disillusionment was always the better word for it. It was not the Fount’s fault that death was inevitable. He could not reverse the cycle of crumbing and rebaking.

Beat,

Beat,

Beat,

If he could, there would be no war. No sadness. No tragedy, no need for a paradise, no need for an escape. There would only be the world as it was before his scholarly curiosity drove him too far.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

And, with no war, there would be no reason to be afraid of desire. Because, without conflict, individuality would not be such a threat. But that’s impossible. You cannot have a world where cookies have unique desires to themselves without conflict every so often. But maybe if he had not allowed for dishonesty to seep into the fabric of reality,

Or, if those desires were not so selfish, as was he,

There would be no giving up.

Beat

Beat

Beat

He stared up at the severed moon.

Really, in a world where free will existed, for others and now himself,

“Why are you upset?”

The knight in tarnished silver looked back at him, and through his helmet came no answer. There was only Silence.

“I don’t understand you.” Said the former fount, crown broken at his side. “You said it was unbreakable.”

“And you said you could prove me wrong.” The knight said at last, “My mistake was that I didn’t believe you. Because you always say that.”

“Why?” The fount said, “Everyone else believes me.”

“And that.” The knight said with a hint of melancholy, “Is everyone else’s mistake.”

After a pause, the fount stood up. “I still don’t know why you’re upset. I know and understand everything. You should consider it a great feat that you have confused me so much.”

“I’m upset,” the knight said, “Because this world was not meant for war. And you hid the truth from me, over and over again.”

The old fount could do nothing but scoff. “I hid the truth, yes. But it was all a test, see. If these cookies could not seek out information by themselves, it was always bound to end this way. There’s only so many truths one can say before the complexities of the world reach their mind; and with that complexity, truth is simply too small a concept. I did it for the expansion of our universe, Knight of-“

“You shattered the peace with your lies!”

The fount froze. A nearly amused grin split his face as he swayed side to side, “I shattered the peace? I shattered it? And what, do you think I Lied my way into half the kingdom being turned into dust? I didn’t shatter the peace, I merely invented the option to do so.”

“And, pray tell,” the knight said beneath the shattered moon, “Did the ultimate scientist have a backup plan for when his experiments backfired?”

To this, the fount laughed. He laughed forevermore. “Backfired? No no, I don’t think you understand.” He spread his arms around and his previously star-filled hair expanded like shadows to twilight, “This is Exactly what I thought would happen!”

Pure Vanilla pulled him along through the cream and yellow hallways, past the stained glass windows and down the stairs. “We can sit anywhere. I have a dining room, a living room, loads of spare bedrooms, my own room. Or we can sit in the gardens.”

“For what?”

His eyes crinkled with an apologetic smile. “Well, unfortunately we’re low on resources, so Cherry Wafer cookie is making pasta. I’m asking where you’d like to sit while we eat it. I didn’t expect you to show up, so hopefully they made enough for another cookie. It’s alright if not, you can have my bowl.”

Shadow Milk stopped with his arms crossed, raised a brow at him and gave an exceedingly slow shake of his head. “It’s not like me to show concern for your eating habits but given what you said about your paranoia… No.”

“Oh no, I’ve eaten today, really I-“

“Well let’s see; I’m eternal, Older than most of the nature under your city, and I’ve been stuck in an abyssal prison without food for eons before.” He counted on his fingers. “I can manage. You on the other hand? Absolutely not.”

Pure Vanilla stopped too, turned to him with an appraising expression, likely trying to guess at his motives. Anyone with a good mind would do the same, given who they were dealing with. It was fun, watching the gears turn in his head, at least until Shadow Milk realised with a drop of his heart that he was still living in reality, and not a passive observer. Odd, how it only hit him Now that he was inside the narrative and not the one simply narrating it. Too long spent playing make believe to remember how to live as himself.

But- But back to Pure Vanilla, right? From the concerned furrow of his brow, he seemed to have reached the conclusion that Shadow Milk cookie was infantilising him to lower his self esteem. It’s better than him thinking I care, at least.

“I have also managed going whole days without food, especially on long trips. I’m not as fragile as you seem to think. Your body, Shadow Milk cookie, is not as resistant to the elements as you pretend it is.” He jabbed the end of his staff into the hidden stab wound in his side. Shadow Milk doubled over and a satisfied smirk crossed the saint’s face. “See? You need the strength that eating brings, and I can always have breakfast Tomorrow to catch up on all the nutrients lost.”

Shadow Milk gritted his teeth against the pain. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“It has worked like that, since before you or Hollyberry showed concern. I will be fine, promise.” He held out a hand for Shadow Milk to use to pull himself to his feet. This little gnat. Was this really going to play out like a back and forth game of trying to convince the other party of their inadequate strength until they both got help? He refused and pushed himself up by his knees.

“Well, they better have made an extra portion, because I’m not above force-feeding your dinner to you.”

The servants had thankfully used all the pasta - and added tomato sauce to the mix too. No spicy flavour. He snorted to himself as he realised. Was his obsession with Pure Vanilla really considered so abnormal when he Never shut up about things that mildly annoyed him?

They’d agreed upon sitting in the greenhouse, and ate their dinners in silence on the grass surrounding the pansies. His ruffle collar was folded neatly on the tiles nearby. Every now and then, Pure Vanilla would hum or catch a bumblebee on his finger before letting it fly away. The setting sun came heavy through the window and warmed everything up, and no servants bothered them as they sat side by side.

But the peace couldn’t stay unbroken forever. After all, as picturesque as this moment was, as quaint as the impromptu castle tour had been,  he still had an agenda to destroy Pure Vanilla from the inside out. Just now, he needed to go about it differently, because clearly destroying his kingdom all Willy Nilly was not going to work.

No, in fact he’d been thinking about this wrong — his ancient counterpart had left his kingdom more open to all of Shadow Milk’s best talents and tricks than he had thought. But, he would need to collect more information on this kingdom’s workings before he tried to manipulate and crumble it all from inside.

His mind had been running ever since Pure Vanilla had confirmed his trust in him - But after everything he’d been through, he was beginning to learn Pure Vanilla’s mind was not so uncomplicatedly optimistic, and really never had been. A double trick had to be sizzling beneath this, his soft smiles and the hands that caressed his face when he appeared downcast. This softness was typical of Pure Vanilla, but he knew Shadow Milk better than most — not to say he Understood the way his mind worked, just that when compared to the average mortal, Pure Vanilla was second place in terms of who he knew knew him. Whatever this sly rabbit was doing, Shadow Milk would find it out and curve it to his advantage.

But maybe his hunger was fuelling a paranoia like was suggested. His chest burnt with shame at the thought that Pure Vanilla had accurately guessed something so major.

And annoyingly, Pure Vanilla Also caught onto this active running thought process, because in the next moment he placed his half eaten bowl onto the tiles next to the grass. “Shadow Milk, are you overthinking things again?”

“It’s not overthinking, I think at completely regular speeds for my divinely gifted hyper-intelligence. Just because you have trouble reading it, doesn’t mean it’s abnormal.”

Pure Vanilla frowned, finally. He’d been waiting for that soft smile to disappear from his face for ages now. “Alright, I’m sorry. You just looked sort of upset is all.”

Well. He couldn’t deny that.

A heavy silence followed, stretching on beyond time. He could hear the seconds tick by in the form of the water droplets from somewhere in the greenhouse, falling into a bucket.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

This was agonising, not to mention how he’d intentionally started making the fork not touch the bowl so the silence could stay undisturbed.

Pure Vanilla took the impolite liberty of breaking the silence after another minute of drops. “I have a question,” he said, and then continued without waiting to see if it was worth asking, “Why did you come here?”

With a mouth full of pasta, he couldn’t really respond in either direction.

“Well, you showed up out of nowhere, after a long, rather boring day where nothing happened to me. And I understand the nurses kept you under control, so to speak… but, when you had the freedom to go anywhere you wanted after they left you to your own devices, why did you choose to come here?”

He swallowed and spoke without thinking, “I don’t know where else I’d go.”

Crumbs, that was WAY too honest. He tried covering but Pure Vanilla put a hand over his mouth.

“The Hollyberry kingdom, which you’ve confirmed you’re aware is having a big feast, is about an hour or two’s journey southwest of the Cacao forest. You might’ve had more luck there.”

Luck? For what?

“After all, if anybody could succumb to your Deceit, the frivolous culture of upperclassmen in Hollyberry kingdom would be easy enough. From there, Hollyberry is a rather good friend to her neighbour whose kingdom you reside in. There’s also the central trade routes. If you wanted to take a few risks, you could destroy her kingdom by implanting poisonous or countfeit goods— can you see where I’m going with this yet?”

“You’re telling me what you would do if you wanted to bring down your own friends’ kingdoms.”

“Yes, but— Surely you see how not-thought-out this plan is, right? I’m just making it up as I go! Anyway, I know both of your minions are gone, but your next move could be to get Black Sapphire cookie to start spreading rumours and breaking trust between the buyers and sellers, since being a trade city is what makes the Hollyberry kingdom such a popular tourist destination. Being so closely linked to the Dark Cacao kingdom, which I’m sure you’ve gathered is rather untrusting of All, ally or foe, there would be a break between the two kingdoms; Oh, especially if you poisoned the imported crops which don’t grow in its harsh conditions. And, because the Vanilla kingdom has so many allies, inevitably the plot about the trade disputes would reach my kingdom too, since we get a lot of imports from all around earthbread. Both the poison and the suspicion would split us three. And then from there the Créme Republic will be on All our tails about it and then a thousand meetings later, you’re already moving onto the next plot; turning the Golden Cheese kingdom against its allies. How would you do that… illusions, maybe? You have a strong suit in conjuring up a cookie’s worst fears and nightmares, forcing them all to face their deepest anguish. If you wove your way into Golden Cheese cookie’s mind, not that you should-“

“Okay, wait. Are you actually giving me a proper rundown of how to destroy the world?”

“Um.” Pure Vanilla tapped his feet against the stone path. “I apologise. Hopefully that wasn’t a good plan in the first place. The point was that it’s far too easy to bring me down and yet here you are sharing a meal with me. Is there… something that can explain that?”

Clearly. Maybe Shadow Milk didn’t care about the other kingdoms, had he considered that? Although he was right, and Shadow Milk knew it; in order to bring him to his knees (Metaphorically!) The Beast of Deceit would have to conjure up a plan that hit everything Pure Vanilla cared about; and he cared about a lot, so much in fact that it Would be easier to just start a fire from the inside. There was truly and wholeheartedly zero requirement that he sit here next to some meaningless flowers with a bowl of pasta balanced on his lap.

So what was he doing here!?

His thinking must’ve shown on his face because Pure Vanilla Finally picked up his own bowl and lifted the fork out of it. “I reiterate that I think you just miss me, Shadow Milk cookie.” And then he took another bite.

He was momentarily too distracted by the fact Pure Vanilla had chosen not to leave the bowl half finished to process the accusation. But when it reached his head, his hair shivered to life with annoyance narrowing all his eyes.

“Would you stop saying that!” He groaned, “I had no obligation to be here, I reiterate that the outside world is weird and unfamiliar and I’d rather be stuck sitting next to You than being shot down by one of your fuh-riends. Dark Cacao is the least likely of all the ancients to strike, because he’s too busy brooding to care about some worthless hospital patient.”

“You’re stronger than most of us. Also, you’re not worthless. And dark cacao doesn’t think so either, given that he sent me a letter.”

“That’s not the point! Wait you think I’m str— Also not the point! The point is: Sure, you’re nice and you’re funny and sweet and k…inda really annoying most of the time. But you’re also the only safe alternative I have to that place and—“

Stop talking, seriously. This is so playing your cards too loosely. His mouth kept going despite the split second intervention of his thoughts.

“And— You just get me. I could make a thousand new allies and use them to crumble you, but-“

He groaned to shut himself up.

Beast of Deceit, Master of trickery, king of all lies. He could conjure an excuse. He could spin a long winded tale of his misery, and allow that to be the truth for silly Vanilly over here. But he didn’t. He didn’t continue at all.

And now what was his body doing, leaning toward his worst enemy? Was he even in control of himself anymore, or was he watching himself act on instinct? Certainly would not be the first time he had to look through his eyes as his reality disobeyed him. His head landed on Nilly’s shoulder, and his back was suddenly not in pain for holding up his weight any longer. Unfair. So, so unfair. He took another forkful of pasta.

In the silence of his chewing, Pure Vanilla spoke up. “You’re not fond of the idea that you could get attached? Or is it just statistically unlikely that so many cookies would be turned against me without at least one of them questioning your plans?”

Shadow Milk sighed. “Dunno. I’m not in the space to make any more mistakes.”

Pure Vanilla allowed the pause to lengthen. “So what are you doing here?”

Damn it Nilly, can’t you take a guess? Suppose that was one of the benefits of introducing deceit into the world, that cookie’s would have to figure the answer out for themselves instead of relying on a single source for all their information. But just like them, so too did Pure Vanilla expect the answer to come right out of him.

If only there were something he could do about all the pain in his side, and his legs, and his hair, too. Nobody had tried to heal his hair, he’d just been ignoring it up until now. Hiding the eyes when around the nurses, and not allowing it to be a problem around Vanilly. Most of his pain wasn’t a problem around the other half of his soul jam anyway, for its natural healing properties.

“It’s your soul jam.” He figured out at last, “It makes it all hurt less.”

Pure Vanilla let out an amused hum at that. “Oh really?”

“Shut up.” Having finished his pasta, he put his bowl down and nestled closer to Pure Vanilla. “You should be offended that I only see you as a living breathing painkiller.”

“I’m honoured that the all knowing, all powerful Beast, Shadow Milk cookie, would ever consider me as a worthy tool to ease his pain. You know, because the mere act of existing around you is a blessing to me.”

Okay, that Definitely was sarcasm. He could sense it off the amusement that permeated his voice, that little hand coming up to the soul jam thing. But Why did his voice have to soften so much toward the end there, Ew!

“You don’t mean that.”

Pure Vanilla hummed again. He ran his fingers once through the shadowy depths of hair and finished his own bowl of pasta before leaning his cheek on the top of Shadow Milk’s head. “Is this comfy for you?”

“No.”

He understood somehow that Shadow Milk was just saying that, and yet he still guided Shadow Milk down onto his lap and continued stroking his hair, and occasionally his cheek. But as a Beast, he wasn’t an easy sleeper, and it would take a lot more than humming his theme tune while birds sang outside to make him lose consciousness.

He woke up in Pure Vanilla’s bed again. Well, I’ll be damned.

Pure Vanilla had left his ruffle collar and soul jam draped over a chair, along with a note on the vanity table that read, “I’m taking a bath right now to get the twigs out of my hair, will be back soon. P.S do not leave this room, my servants are doing cleanup rounds and I’d rather you not start any trouble.”

Heh, did this silly idiot think he Wasn’t going to use this as inspiration to scare the living daylights out of his servants? No, wait. Change of plan.

He opened the vanity’s cabinet to see if there was anything of interest inside. Nope, just nail icing and an empty lip balm. Flavoured like birthday cake, how cute.

The sound of a door knob turning scared him out of physical form, and he hid under the vanity as a plushie wolf, immediately thinking it himself that a sheep would’ve been less conspicuous. Thankfully he could tell it was merely a servant, one with cherry red hair and clothes that made her look like a chef. He inched closer behind a basket to hide the obvious imperfections of his plush disguise, such as that it still had his eyes.  But this cherry-haired servant merely did some hoovering, remade the bed and checked that the lamps still worked, and she was on her way.

He waited a moment and then re-emerged fully cookie again. Say, why was there just a straw basket under Nilly’s dressing table? He pulled it out and picked out the first note he saw and unfolded it.

“To my previous self,”

Yeah okay so this was going to be some boring self reflection. Next!

“Hollyberry,

I would be overjoyed to accept your invitation to the Hollyberry feast next weekend. I’m already preparing a few plans in case of trouble in my kingdom regardless of wether I stay or go, but I think an opportunity to be engulfed by your welcoming cheeriness would be a wonderful blessing. You know I always love to meet new cookies and see old friends.

There is one thing I should warn you about, however-“

And the rest was scribbled out. Likely about Him. Hehe, how entertaining.

He pulled out a few more and noticed that some of them were wax sealed. Ooo, so was he almost about to send those?

After skimming a few unsealed notes, he realized they were all rather messy drafts and poems and love letters, for some reason.

The way he wrote made it sound like he wanted his friends for more than their company… a few of his self reflections gave off that vibe too, just more that he wanted to hug his past selves instead of… whatever was on his mind when he was addressing those ones to Dark Cacao cookie and his supposedly nicely carved shoulders. He’d seen the old man, he wasn’t That good looking!

…

…

Okay, he’d sold that lie to himself about Burning Spice cookie before, was this really any different? Fine! Pure Vanilla shared his type! That didn’t make him jealous at all.

So to distract from his own embarrassment, he undid the wax seal of one of the many letters, which had a bit of writing on the side that made zero sense. He turned it over and started reading. Ohh~ White Lily cookie!

He unfolded it in full and was so taken off guard by the first line after the address that he had to look away from the letter to process it was very clearly Pure Vanilla’s handwriting.

It said.

“To my dearest, most beloved, untouchable White Lily, saint of my heart.” Touching. Ironic, considering the next line, which said,

“I have to start this off by mentioning that my soul jam is locked in my dresser to stop me from touching it. Where it would usually provide a relief to my feelings when they get too much, it only tends to intensify the feelings I have about you, and in an act of self restraint I have locked it away.

As of right now, I should not be physically strong enough to write this letter, as my arms feel weak with-“ and his hand writing was thinner here, as if he were scared to write the words, “desire for you.”

Geez, Mister Pure Vanilla having his first crush, huh?

Evidently, he must have been early in his life when he wrote this, because he seemed to go on and on, so long that the writing Shadow Milk had spotted on the other side was a Continuation.

He went on about her beautiful everything and her intelligence and the sound of her voice and how he wished he could lay himself at an alter for her, some stuff Shadow Milk was nearly too grossed out to read. But he read and latched onto certain words anyway.

He opened another one with the same seal, also addressed to White Lily cookie.

And another.

And another, addressed to someone who was not White Lily cookie.

He was sickeningly open about his feelings. They flourished off the page, and if Shadow Milk wasn’t embarrassed by how pathetic Pure Vanilla was, trying to portray his desires in the written word, he might’ve wished someone would write for him like that, after all nobody except for him really Had sung his praises so high.

So next he went looking to see if Pure Vanilla had addressed any letters to him. Finding nothing in the basket, he went further.

He looked in the very same bedside table that Pure Vanilla had hidden his soul jam inside of.

Inside was a stack of letters, all sealed. They couldn’t All be addressed to him, but some of them were sealed with blue wax, very clearly his colour.

Before he had the chance to pick one out however, the door opened again and he had just enough time to close the cabinet before Pure Vanilla, donning in a fluffy white bathrobe and a towel wrapped around his hair, emerged and seemed nearly to ignore him as he opened one of the other drawers of his vanity. With the help of his dozen of eyes he could read the text on the bottle Pure Vanilla had fished out - moisturiser. A few keywords like Revitalising and Hydrating. Do cookies really need that stuff?

Still, he watched his other half sit down and apply some to his face, down his neck, a bit on his forearms. Seems a bit pointless when cookies were meant to be hydrated just fine already.

Well, maybe not everybody could use their magic to stay crispy. But he had a soul jam! And a mastery of white magic? What did he need moisturiser for when he was literally in perfect condition already!

Oh and there he goes, applying it to his legs too. Shadow Milk sat on the bed waiting for Pure Vanilla to realise he was watching.

As if to make him more annoyed, Pure Vanilla loosened the dressing gown and slipped his arms out, and then applied some to the spot on his chest where his soul jam usually sat.

“You’re staring.”

“I know.” He said, narrowly dodging whatever kind of embarrassment Pure Vanilla’s was attempting to bring out. “What are you doing?”

“It’s important to keep up routines, I get so dried out from being in the sun all day long.”

“But you can use your white magic to re-crisp yourself!”

Pure Vanilla was trying to reach his back but clearly his age was giving him trouble. Arching his back and struggling like an idiot. He turned his eyes up to meet Shadow Milk’s in the mirror. “Are you saying you Don’t have a self care routine?”

What? Okay, Now he was embarrassed. “Well, obviously I do! Just… Uh…”

Pure Vanilla gave up and slouched forward. “Sigh. Come here.”

You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead.

He obeyed, feeling useless at the mercy of Pure Vanilla, who handed him the bottle. “Okay, squeeze some onto your hand and put it on my back please.”

Um.

What!

Pure Vanilla looked at him with those… oddly alluring eyes. “Well?”

Did his stomach just invert itself? Oh, that’s a funny prank to pull. Real funny.

“Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?” He said, a dangerous edge to his voice, “I could rip you apart.”

“It’s okay, I can heal it if your nails scratch.” Pure Vanilla said cheerfully.

“Not what I mean! I’m saying-“ His ruffle collar was still hanging off the chair Pure Vanilla was using, and he could see the soul jam’s pulsing light,  getting faster. “Look. I’m not as kind as you’re trying to make me. I could choose to kill you right now.”

“So why aren’t your claws digging into my back?” Being unaware of Shadow Milk’s little investigation, that was certainly not meant to have any subtext to it but Gosh, after reading all those letters, suddenly the mental understanding of who Pure Vanilla became when he had an infatuation had changed him dramatically. And it showed on his face, because Pure Vanilla’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “It’s unlike you to be so shy. Just this one favour, I’ll be in your debt, Shadow Milk.”

He growled, or hissed, whatever that sound cats make when they’re annoyed was. And, despite having all the power to kill Pure Vanilla here and now, he also knew he wouldn’t be satisfied if he just killed him. No, we need to bide our time, this is just another tedious thing to put up with while we wait. He squeezed some onto his palm and rubbed his hands together. He was massaging Pure Vanilla’s shoulders now, this was fine. Not warm at all. Not weird, Nothing more than a dumb agreement he’d led himself into. Nilly owed him for this.

The little gnat leaned forward so he could move down his back. Admittedly, it was sort of satisfying to glide his fingers over that newly untouched dough, since all the scarring was gone now, leaving a fresh canvas, where he could do anything at all. No. No, don’t cut into it. What had he said about the apples back in the city of destruction? That temptation would kill them both. He needed Pure Vanilla alive.

He kept himself sane by affirming that he could still kill this gnat at any time, squish his fragile soul or cut him open. This was for a longer game, one he would win in the end. Yes, Pure Vanilla was currently putting him in an annoyingly submissive position but he would be back to steal away that power! Certainly!

It didn’t help that he could Feel the buzzing of his soul jam from this far.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Pure Vanilla said when Shadow Milk’s clawed fingers finally settled on his shoulders. “Thank you. Do you want me to put some on you too? You’re looking rather… eh, well I won’t force you.” A light colour tainted his cheeks. Oh, was he finally seeing how pathetic this situation was? He reluctantly checked his own face in the mirror, and it was unfortunately way too purple for his liking.

The right decision would have been to leave and never come back. He even turned to go before another idea struck him. It was foolish but maybe…this was an opportunity to flip the power dynamic.

Worth a shot. “Well, I AM the all knowing, all powerful, master of this world. It’s only right that you honour me by… whatever. Only on my face, okay!”

Pure Vanilla tied the arms of his dressing gown around his waist and stood up. Okay. So maybe Shadow Milk had underestimated how much mental fortitude this little plan of his really took. The brush of hands when he gave the bottle back to Pure Vanilla had his breath catching all over again, not to mention the terrible reality crashing in when the saint’s warmth grew even nearer to him, pulling him around so he could lean against the vanity with his back to the mirror. Okay, good idea Mr. know-it-all, but my legs are a lot stronger than that.

Pure Vanilla put a little bit on the back of his own hand, and them used his fingers to apply dots around Shadow Milk’s face, cool to the touch.  With his nemesis this close, where was he supposed to look? Everywhere on his face felt too personal, everywhere behind him required his eyes to strain. Weird. His eyes never needed to strain to see.

If he shut his eyes and used the ones in his hair, it was more bearable, but doing so had made a tiny light come on in his chest, not unpleasant but nonetheless unfamiliar. Maybe it was the loss of his senses, even though he was still seeing, technically, but it was almost as if the room had grown hotter. Maybe it was the proximity, seeing as Pure Vanilla exuded natural warmth. Maybe that was just his jam rushing around in uncertain anticipation of when Pure Vanilla would rub the dots of moisturiser into his dough. When he did, that tiny spot of light exploded like a floodlight, rapidly speeding the pulsing of his soul jam. His arms were the only thing keeping him standing, though really it was more akin to half sitting on the vanity. He was Not going to give this gnat the satisfaction of knowing his knees had given out.

“No, go on. Sit. It’ll make this easier.” Would he shut up already! So incredibly rude of any cookie to think they could not only boss THE Shadow Milk cookie around, but do it so gently that was nearly not bossing at all.

But still, because it would be far more embarrassing to fall to the floor, he pushed himself up so his legs were dangling, just barely touching the ground - as opposed to Pure Vanilla, who was very Much touching him. His thumbs massaged under his eyes, down his cheeks and dangerously close to his mouth. Warm, he registered, his hands are so soft. No, wait. Stop thinking about that, stop thinking about that!

Was he still breathing? Nope, certainly not. But it was too late to start now; if he wasn’t holding his breath he’d be gasping for it. And… How could he keep his pride intact if this seemly small gesture was revealed to be getting him this worked up?

“Are you having trouble breathing, Shadow Milk?” He took this thumbs off of Shadow Milk’s cheeks and rested them on his shoulders. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Keep your eyes closed, and-“ he inhaled to demonstrate. “Hold,” and then blew all the air out. Pure Vanilla stepped back to give him space, though the eyes in his hair were deliberately avoiding looking at anything except for the door and the closet, so he couldn’t tell how far. “Come on, I know you can do it.”

This stupid little- He opened his mouth and tried his best, despite how tight his throat was, despite how small his lungs felt. In for four, hold, out for four.

“Okay, one more time.”

He took in a lot more oxygen before speaking, “What is the point of this?”

Pure Vanilla didn’t answer. He got one full breath cycle in before he said anything. “You weren’t breathing. I was worried you were overwhelmed…I’m almost done now, so you can take as much space as you need after.”

Yeah, that would be nice actually. Now his chest tightened with guilt instead of discomfort; how could anybody care so much for his boundaries when he made it his mission to overstep theirs constantly?

He didn’t deserve this - and yet he was receiving it anyway, not out of obligation, not out of foolish reverence. Pure Vanilla knew what he’d done. Or at least, he acted like it. Maybe he just didn’t understand how deep his corruption went.

Pure Vanilla had done the quickest job possible of rubbing in the final dot and patting his face, and finally Shadow Milk felt the comforting cold re-emerge. Well, cold as it could get in this stuffy room. Was the Saint of Truth really so opposed to opening a window! He moved to the one with all the plants outside and undid the latch. Fresh air, how divine!

“Oh, Shadow Milk!”

“What?”

Pause. “Nothing, I thought you were going to flee after… Nevermind, You have my permission to roam the kingdom, just so you know.”

“I don’t need permission. I can go wherever I want, remember?” He perched on the outer sill, “But I don’t really feel like flying right now. Go back to bed, I’m going to stay here and stare at the view.”

After a loud silence, Pure Vanilla mumbled an affirmative before getting back into bed. Shadow Milk hopped onto the roof and searched for west, where he could watch the sun setting over the horizon.

He stayed there to catch his breath and maybe let his eyes water themselves out. His hair was nearly melting, sticking to the roof as he sat. He’d really overestimated how much touching he could handle. Weird, considering he’d fallen asleep in Pure Vanilla’s arms before. But then, there were always layers of fabric between them. Never mind, just focus on the sunset.

Mystic Flour cookie really liked sunsets. Often times she’d sit on the edge of a cliffside with a plate of dumplings and Cloud Hatae by her side and watch the clouds drift along the vermillion coastline from afar. From those peaks you could probably see everything in the world.

He never told her he was watching with her. But back then, he had eyes in places most wouldn’t even think to look. All he needed was a crystal and some light and he could see basically anywhere he wanted. His collection of crystal balls was a hilarious concern of his allies, hence quite a few of them ended up being used for the academy. Ah, the academy, once prized jewel of his heart.

And his prized other half was a student there once! Shame he couldn’t be there to see it, else he would’ve encouraged young Vanilla to be a trouble maker.

Well. There’s always the future!

…

What?

Snapping out of his thoughts, he found the sky had been painted with an odd grey tinge beneath the blue and slight pink. Was the sun already set or had the clouds just hidden it from view?

Odd.

Whatever about futures, he had a cookie to go educate. It was getting too cold out here for his liking.

When he found Pure Vanilla in his bed reading, it startlingly reactivated his senses. Shoot, I forgot looking at him did that! Why did it do that?

Ah, whatever. Curse of the soul jams or what is it.

“Oh, Nilly!~”

Pure Vanilla greeted him with a curious but patient smile, “Yes, Shadow Milk?”

Ugh, shut up! “I have an idea~ One that might make you Really wanna put that book down.”

Pure Vanilla lowered the book onto his lap with a bemused furrow of his brow. Shadow Milk reached up and and summoned his blueberry staff, suppressing the wince of pain as he felt the injuries in his side and leg tear open from the effort. “Okay, might need to use the other realm for this. In you go!” He procured a portal under Pure Vanilla and followed him in, catching him and his book in his arms. In the other realm, the pathetic fool weighed nothing to him. “Oh, how I missed being able to carry you like this!” His face heated and he squinted, “Never mind, taking that back. Anyway!”

He settled them both on a floating platform and summoned a white board along with a few markers. He left the markers to float and construct his plan for him as he lengthened his sceptre into a pointing stick. “So I heard you were planning to visit my humble academy! I don’t remember how, just roll with it.”

Pure Vanilla readjusted his nightgown so he was wearing it properly and sat down like an obedient student. Hm, good start.

“Okay, so, my idea is that I take you over prematurely, and we can explore the secret staff only rooms together - after all, I established it, so I’d know exactly what was hidden from the students, and the staff!” He added with a wink.

“White Lily and I had broken into the forbidden part of the library once… are you saying there’s even more forbidden passages?”

“I’m saying there’s So many forbidden passages, there’s even a door to my spire of Deceit!”

Pure Vanilla’s brows shot up. “Really!?”

No, you think I’m that stupid? Shadow Milk laughed, feeling oddly like himself again, “Ooo, getting curious are we? Worry not, I will guide you whence the Vanilla kingdom until you arrive at the shores yonder ghost city! Shalt you will it, I can show you the world, Dear Vanilly!” He circled a place on the diagram his markers had illustrated of the layout of the blueberry academy. “Now, that’s not true, actually: there’s no doorways to the Spire in crispia, not yet! But I can accommodate if you miss your rightful place in my other realm so much.”

“Oh, no no. Only sometimes.”

Shadow Milk hummed with curiosity as he cast his eyes back to the kneeling Pure Vanilla cookie.

“I miss when the anguish I bore was mine alone. Similarly to moving house, it’s not like it was easier; just a different, more familiar kind of pain. Now, I have to account for so much more in this role, I’m unfortunately quite overwhelmed already.”

Shadow Milk clicked his tongue. “I Don’t really care, but I’ll have ya know that’s how we all fall from grace: the overwhelming pressure of being virtuous is only the first step.” See? Already dragging Nilly back into the shadows, this was a piece of cake. Now all he had to do was show Pure Vanilla the perfect horror and fun that he had when he was transforming the world into the wasteland it had been before the forks. Or maybe, familiarisation was the key, seeing as Pure Vanilla was already pulling him along so much. All he had to do is give into the pull, corrupt it from the other side-

“I made a promise to never end up like you. Even if we are the same in many ways, I’m sorry to disappoint you; I will never become you, Shadow Milk cookie.”

Well damn. Tough cookie. “I forgot you could hear me through the soul jam.” He scowled, “You… Can hear me, right?”

“Better than I hear myself, in this dimension. Carry on your lesson, Wise Fount.”

Ew, whatever.

“So! I was thinking I take you to the academy, show you the hidden secrets, make you horrified enough to not want to bring those foolish heroes further, end your day early and THEN you finally see that you have to put a stop to my schemes, and I get to go back to planning your demise with mutual resentment from both sides.”

Pure Vanilla smiled through his explanation until the last part. Still, Shadow Milk continued before he could have a chance to mention… anything, anything at all. “And on top of that, if by some chance your compassion, bleugh, makes you still want to forgive me, I can take advantage of it! Easy Peasy! You’ll drop right back down into Deceit, becoming my obedient servant, and I can wreck your friends kingdoms because you won’t hold me accountable for everything I’ve done wrong!”

Pure Vanilla just kept staring. Was he planning to put up a counter argument? “Alright.”

“Now th- Alright?”

“I’ll play along. Let’s see how bad you believe yourself to be. It won’t be anything I haven’t seen before, you know that.” He stood up and took another of the markers, “But just so you know, The Master of Deceit and Trickery would never reveal his schemes so openly if he expected them to work; so I do suspect you of having ulterior motives, and I place double the wager on the theory that you aren’t even aware of it.”

Inner frustration welled up. Sure. Okay. Fine! “What if that’s what I want you to think? I could be tricking you by telling the truth outright and making you think I’m lying.”

Pure Vanilla’s hand reached for his. “It’s a game of outcomes then. See who’s better at foresight.” The look in his eyes was achingly familiar. All he was missing now was that ugly sneer, though the certainty in his eyes made up for it.

“Heh, I miss when you placed bets on things.” His heart drummed as Pure Vanilla finally smiled - tiny, soft, completely sure.

“And I miss when you were confident like that.” He put a hand on Shadow Milk’s chest, which was still devoid of a soul jam. “It’s been a while, Master of Deceit.”

Chapter Text

He’d dearly underestimated the darkness of his other realm until Pure Vanilla opened a portal back into the real world and flashbanged him with the brightness of his power. Surprisingly, when his eyes readjusted they were back in the present moment, no massive rip in his side and Pure Vanilla was at his closet throwing on the white gown of his awakened robes. Shadow Milk spotted the zip at the back and sighed. Judging from earlier, there was no way on earthbread that Pure Vanilla could zip it all the way up by himself.

Before Pure Vanilla could even turn to ask, he flicked a hand and the gown zipped up by itself, no hair caught. The healer expressed his surprise in a tiny flinch and a glance at his back.

“Okay, let’s get going. No better time to do some breaking and entering than the cover of night!”

“Wait!” Pure Vanilla fished out the rest of his outfit, “I can’t leave the kingdom half dressed!”

Shadow Milk flopped backwards floating just above the plush duvet and stared aimlessly at the ceiling while he waited for Pure Vanilla to put on all the useless accessories, a process which he thankfully did not draw out. When Shadow Milk returned to sit upright, his breath caught in his throat for a moment.

All the damned witches. He still looked as radiant as ever, his hair still falling to the floor to look as if it were a curtain of the sweetest custard, the ribbons that draped from his arms resembling paper scrolls Shadow Milk wished he could read the text off, even if they were just meaningless symbols. And that cape that draped off of him like fondant. One day he was going to steal that thing and use it as a blanket, if the gentle eyes roaming the room trying to pretend he wasn’t noticing Shadow Milk’s staring didn’t kill him out of embarrassment, that is.

“Now, shall we get going?” He said as he placed the cone hat on his head so that his bangs weren’t caught under it.

“Right, Mhm!” Compose yourself, you stupid Jester! A Beast cookie does not concern himself with such measly prey. “Ahem. Well, seeing as my Other Realm is back in business, what do you say we skip the long boat trip and go right to the academy?”

“Oh, that would be convenient, yes. But, can we at least stop off in the ghost city before that…? I’m curious to see if it’s still lived in. After all, they’re ghosts, so they can’t really…”

Oh, fine. It might buy him some time to get used to moving with his injuries anyhow. Yes, his body was fragile! Fine! Thanks to the quick thinking of Pure Vanilla as he was blinded by the portal, his wounds were sealed back up, though they seemed like they’d need a while to settle.

“Alright, We’ll do it.” He grumbled. “Still have the ability to kill you at any time though.”

Pure Vanilla laughed and approached him, “Oh, but you’re not going to because you’re injured, certainly.”

“What’s that sup- Woah.”

Pure Vanilla leaned over him, pinning one of his hands down and raising his chin up with two fingers, “You can’t deny me a thing, can you?” And then, as if he’d never done it, he returned to his spot by the window with a polite smile. “Well, there’s an ice cream shop we students and staff used to frequent. You’ll like it, I promise.”

Yeah, nice try, I can still see the flush on your face.

And he can probably see the flush on mine. Graaaah, I HATE THIS!

This was some special kind of payback for the mind-torture-Monopoly. And the river too.

He pushed off the bed and joined Pure Vanilla by the window. “Kay, let’s get going before you start trying to eat me.” He clamped hand over Pure Vanilla’s mouth “And, by the way; No more silly comments like that. And, no more touching me, got it?”

Pure Vanilla seemed a bit confused and hurt by those two requests, but he took Shadow Milk’s hand and shook it. “If it’s what you want. Sorry about that. Couldn’t help myself.”

“Psh, and you’re the saviour this world yearns for? Pathetic.”

Having regained the ability to make portals without discomfort, he brought them right to the centre of the ghost city, where a statue of his likeness should have been. No surprises that it had been replaced in the time between its creation and now.

What was there instead was a raised pavilion with an ice cream stand and several chairs around for customers to sit while they ate. Pure Vanilla lit up in an instant, practically dragging Shadow Milk over to check out the flavours. Strawberry, Raspberry, Peach, Blueberry, heh.

The ghost at the stand seemed pretty excited to have new visitors, mentioning the last batch of adventurers was a trio of little kiddos. Those little imbeciles.

Pure Vanilla mentioned his ties to the academy as a former student and they started in a pointless conversation that eventually lead to the ghost saying they could pick any flavour on the house. Not much profit to be made when you didn’t have customers after all. The ghost city had abandoned any need for currency long ago anyhow, now coins were just shiny trinkets to them.

Pure Vanilla turned to Shadow Milk with an expectant smile, completely unlike him at all. He was meant to be the ever-infuriating, benevolent as can be, calmer than a lake frozen over, never outwardly explosive Pure Vanilla cookie. Right now, he seemed like he’d regressed all his centuries of age back into a mortal freshman being offered free ice cream. He was not going to say it was cute.

“Alright, I’ll go first!” His staff scanned the choices, “How about…, ough, it’s been so long, I can’t pick! You choose first, Milky.”

Again with that nickname.

“Well it’s too predictable if either of us choose blueberry… I’ll take a strawberry cone.” He said it with a tone of arrogance he hoped would make that stupidly excited smile falter — it didn’t.

“Alright, I’ll choose… raspberry!” The ghost got to work, handed their ice creams to them and Pure Vanilla did a pathetic bow as a thank you… No, fine, it was Kind of Cute, seeing him this excited. Ugh.

“Oh, we should probably sit down to eat these; they don’t let us eat on the way over.”

“Who’s they?”

“The Ferryman, we used to have ice cream eating competitions with him, because he never allowed us students to board with the ice cream on hand, so they had to implement a Lot of seating to accommodate. Here, I’ll show you to my go-to spot with White Lily and our other friends. My other friends. When White Lily cookie wasn’t there.”

Shadow Milk took his first lick of the ice cream. Strawberry was Not his flavour at all. “Heh, you actually had friends?”

“Of course! Well. There was White Lily. The rest were more like friendly classmates to me, though to them I was probably just shy.” He laughed at himself and tasted his own ice cream. “What’s yours like?”

“Sickening. Yours?”

“Hmm… Wanna swap?”

Shadow Milk stopped in his tracks. “Hm, what?” Pure Vanilla didn’t even bother to ask before leaning in to taste test the strawberry flavour. “Hey, what the— You little pig!”

“Hummm….” He smacked his lips and nodded once. “I don’t actually like raspberry, we should switch.” He held his ice cream out like this wasn’t the strangest experience Shadow Milk’s had today — and considering that moment against the vanity… his heart fluttered annoyingly and he took the raspberry cone, tasted it once and immediately understood. That little… he knew. He knew I’d like raspberry without me even saying it. I didn’t even know that! How could he possibly have deduced that just from my personality alone? It’s not even close to blueberry!

Pure Vanilla sat him down on a bench and licked the melting corners of the cone, “Dear me, it seems I’ve figured you out. That was pure guesswork, I promise I didn’t know if you’d actually like it, I was just banking on the guess that you’d like it more than strawberry.”

“Oh, because strawberry is your favourite flavour?”

“Peach actually, strawberry was White Lily’s favourite. Don’t feel bad, just— Your ice cream is melting.”

“?!”

Shadow Milk did not want to report anything of what occurred beyond that point, out of pure embarrassment. Alas, the poor little Jester was unfortunately aware that despite how closely linked his thoughts were to the narration, this was still not first person narration, and therefore he Still had very little control over what was reported about his experience with the raspberry ice cream. And Witches, your heart would melt.

It felt for a moment like being a normal cookie, albeit one who was sorely embarrassed by their very existence as they licked up the melting edges of the ice cream, glared daggers at their companion and felt their whole body soften at the sight of his soft smile hidden behind his fingers.

“Don’t laugh.”

He laughed anyway, quietly. He whispered out an apology between the syllables of his giggling. So much like a youthful cookie again. So irritating, so unexplainable,

So…

So…

AGGH, FINE! He was cute, really cute. That didn’t mean anything though, it might’ve made his chest do weird flippy things but ultimately those were nothing more than the limitations of the cookie form. Once he had his powers back these useless sensations would stop plaguing him.

“Oh, Shadow Milk, I think you’re staring again.”

“What!” The eyes in his hair blinked out of sync and he very nearly hit something in an effort to cover for his slip up.

Damn it, Beast. You are faltering worse than expected. Any more of this behaviour and you might as well hand him your soul jam with a kiss on the cheek.

“No no, I don’t mind, I’ll stop pointing it out if you hate being aware of it though.” Pure Vanilla continued licking his ice cream and left a terrible silence in which he had no choice but to do the same.

His head spun with the pain of humiliation, but no tears cropped up even after his gaze inevitably turned back to the radiant Saint sitting right next to him. He was Not watching said Saint eat his ice cream with an oddly vested interest. No thoughts were running through his mind right now except the very normal focal point of worldly destruction and Dark Enchantress cookie and vengeance against Silent Salt cookie and wishing he was the cone Pure Vanilla was biting into... this would’ve been funny if it wasn’t happening to him.

He hadn’t even noticed, but he practically shoved his own cone completely into his mouth to distract himself from making any weird faces. And it worked for the timing being, he dusted his hands off and tried not to choke on the whole cone — not that he could, since he didn’t have a gag reflex — and stared anywhere else. That little nuisance was probably going to point out that he had ice cream around his mouth and then wipe it off with his thumb — and He Did! He did that exactly. He even took it a shameful step further and licked the ice cream off his thumb when he was done.

“You’re a freak,” Shadow Milk said, ensuring all his eyes except for the two on his face were averted.

“Mh, once your denial falters too, you’ll find it rather charming.” He stood up and thanked the ghosts and went on his way, leaving the poor Beast to follow in his footsteps. “Now, it seems I’ve delayed the inevitable. Shall we?” He held out his hand and for once Shadow Milk refused it again. Passing a shop window, he realised that maybe his current costume wouldn’t exactly be suited nor welcome when the ghosts at the gate (he knew he’d set those in place, and unless ghosts could die twice they sure wouldn’t be going anywhere) noticed them, so as they approached the boat he wracked his brain for disguises he knew could plausibly be used in this situation. He had plenty of old men and women professor disguises, but a body that is so crumbly would be of no use to him if he were to do the activities required to find the Truth. and he was having too much fun being in this form, so maybe he would just have to disguise himself as a student, or as- No. not as White Lily cookie, that’s stupid.

He could attempt to imitate his Fount form, though he’d cast that aside long ago, and no way could he hide the eyes in his hair. It was still worth a shot.

He twirled his staff above his head and long robes flows to hide his figure, a golden scarf coming to rest around his shoulders, trailing down into two ribbons that curled at the end like a scroll. His signature milk-crown design accented the ends of his sleeves and the collar of his robes. Looking again at his hair, it was still clear as day that he was not the wise fount, just a broken imitation. But it would have to suffice, even if it made his stomach turn at the pitiful resemblance.

He joined back up with Pure Vanilla, whose staff seemed to glow brighter as his eyes scanned the new form. Psh, of course he’d like the new look, their similarities increased tenfold with the ribbons and the gold and the… Oh, he was missing the key hole design where his soul jam now sat. Eh, if you looked at it right, the eye could’ve been a keyhole.

-

When Pure Vanilla mentioned a Ferryman, Shadow Milk had assumed a they would be boarding a boat. But this skeleton resembling a grim reaper was far from even capable of lifting an oar with his stature. Still, he gestured happily as they approached.

“Hello Ferryman, long time no see.” Pure Vanilla said, extending a hand which the skeleton shook enthusiastically. “We’re looking to cross the river to get to the academy. My friends will be joining me sooner or later, would you be able to take us over?

“It would be my pleasure to bring an ancient hero and his unfamiliar friend over the river, stay close now!” He waved his scythe and a bubble momentarily formed around the three of them, and then the Ferryman was beckoning them to follow as he stepped onto the starry waters and it was solid under his bones. Pure Vanilla held out his hand, a fond smile forming as his “unfamiliar friend” stepped forward.

Playing the role of a curious scholar, he had no issue taking his companion’s hand, joining him on the calm waters. A ripple expanded around the tip of his foot as it made brief contact with the water before he was floating just above the surface, by a millimeter. This magic… he recognized it — He invented it. An excited smile formed in response to the wave of nostalgia. Maybe it was his disguise making him so soft-hearted, but he could swear he was supposed to be more grudging about his past.

Pure Vanilla dragged him along, following the Ferryman’s path closely. It was like skating across ice, only without the sharp sound of the skates and the grounding friction of the blades.

The path up to the academy remained unchanged all these years. The stars reflected in the water, twinkling a tiny melody each step. Really, the stars were a part of the nature; a special species of bioluminescent shrimp that kept the monsters in the darkness at bay by acting as a common prey. They also reproduced at rates that would’ve been alarming if not for their role as sustenance to everything else that lived in there. To everyone else, the ghost river looked like a liquid galaxy. To him, it used to be a glorified pool of frogs and flies. But seeing it again after so long, he could hardly distinguish the difference between the stars and the shrimps, aside from where the moon reflected to make the shrimp’s heads more visible. It really was a liquid galaxy.

His companion’s slight glow illuminated the path forward, a guiding light. They kept their hands intertwined to ensure neither stray from the path of the Ferryman. As they caught eyes, their soul jams twinkled in sync and a gleeful smile crossed Pure Vanilla’s face. For once, the pulse in his chest wasn’t a bother, rather a welcome visitor that faded as soon as it came, but it dropped into his stomach to tickle him before it bade adieu. An unrestrained chuckle escaped him, not a crazed giggle nor one to mask his pain; for the duration of this trip, he knew how it felt to be just a cookie, and a young one at that.

—

The Knight of Solidarity peered down at the open expanse of the dark sea, yet to be filled with any life outside of the dark beings already lurking beneath the surface.

“Oooh, The one and only Knight of Solidarity!” The bright and wise Fount descended, floating just above the waters so the ribbons that trailed him would dip into the murky seas. “I thought I would never get to meet you in person. Tell me, what do you think of my academy? Not nearly as grand as the spire of all Knowledge, I just thought it might be easier to establish a place to study in another continent; saves students having to travel so far from their families, ehehe.”

“It’s… rather solitary.” Was all the Knight said. The fount continued to float around the ocean, picking up a small black ooze frog.

“I was thinking of filling this place with an underwater ecosystem, so that the students have something to ponder at on their journey across- Oh! It needs more vegetation, that’s for sure.” The fount splayed his hands out wide above his head. “Well come on then, share your thoughts! Sharing is Caring, isn’t it?”

“I don’t understand you.” The Knight said finally. “What purpose does it serve to build your academy on an island so far away from cookie society. Wouldn’t your students end up isolated?”

“Well, No. They have each other! As for their families… I’ll implement a system for writing letters if the thought of loneliness bothers you so much.” He grabbed the Knights hands with a big smile on his face, “Because if it matters to you, it should matter to me, too.”

—

They reached the shores of the academy and the dreamlike state ended instantaneously when they both spotted that bothersome ghost guardian. Right, he’d set that in place with a purpose; could Pure Vanilla really use his former student excuse with this more skeptical fellow?

“Grahhh, I’m the gatekeeper, nobody is allowed past this point.”

“Oh. What a shame. Would you let us pass?” Pure Vanilla said as if it were as easy as just asking.

The ghost gatekeeper blew raspberries. “I cannot let you pass.”

“Pity.” Pure Vanilla walked through the ghost and beckoned his companion to follow. “Well, it’s not really a pity for me; you’re not going to stop us, are you? Come on, Shadow Milk. Let’s go find some secrets.”

Shadow Milk (still disguised as a scholar) was so astounded that he nearly forgot he was even a Beast; Even if Pure Vanilla Hadn’t been let through without challenge, he could’ve blasted this thing into plasma.

Psh. Whatever.

He discarded his form of a scholar and returned to his Jester appearance. Oddly, the tightness of his suit was ill fitted now, but he could ignore it so long as it didn’t obstruct his range of movement.

The path through the garden revealed that despite its decaying state, the academy still had someone who took care of it as best they could, because the hedges were still trimmed, although messy and the statues of cookies he didn’t recognise were still relatively polished despite the moss and ivy growing around the podiums on which they sat.

“Who are they?”

“Dunno. I think they were major contributors to the scientific community during their time here. They erected statues to honour the superstar graduates, kind of like how every restaurant has its awards stuck to the window as a proof of quality.”

“Hah! That sounds like something I’d say.”

Pure Vanilla held a hand up to his throat and blinked a few times. “I didn’t even notice. Hm, After spending so much time with you, I seem to have adopted your mannerisms.”

Nevermind, keep moving.

Nothing more was said until they got inside, but first they passed a greenhouse covered in vines and overgrown thorn bushes that held sparklingly familiar fruits; dark blueberries with glowing yellow eyes, he’d cultivated them himself after a few experiments. Those worked as security cameras, though they might’ve grown a bit out of hand since nobody was taking care of this garden in particular. Aside from giving temporary clairvoyant effects, they were really just normal blueberries.

The first room beyond the gates was a foyer with bookshelves lining their walls, dried parchment and tall stacks of books still littering the small tables which had long since been left to gather dust and cobwebs. Some books had been tampered with, a sign of a previous visit from some other cookies: those foolish heroes, no doubt.

Now, where to begin on his quest to remind Pure Vanilla of his unforgivable sins? Could he conjure up some memories in Pure Vanilla’s head, perhaps? Ah, he’s used that trick too many times. Pure Vanilla would know whether he was being deceived or not, having experienced the magic of Deceit firsthand before.

Alright, maybe just follow him along and see where he goes. The trip down memory lane will give him inspiration.

This academy lacked the gold accents typical of his spire but the deep blues and purples remained, framed by marble arches with inscriptions of a lost language which would remind the students of their pledge; remain curious, never assume that your Knowledge is complete, fight for a better future using all the tools at your disposal; Knowledge is creation, and the world will grow no matter what.

-

Absolute power begets nothing but arrogance.

That treacherous fairy guardian had said so once, to the heroes no less. The fabled tale of how each Beast fell was inscribed in the ruins of each of their domains. For Burning Spice cookie, it was his having grown weary of the cycle of growth and withering, a desire to control the cycle even if meant the end of what he held dear, for Eternal Sugar cookie it was her sorrows at the inevitable death and misery of cookiekind that had tainted her desires for eternal Happiness into something all consuming, leaving no room at all for pain. Mystic Flour cookie… they never spoke after their escape. In fact, the little he knew of her, it seemed they were not so different after all - her burden to carry was the wishes of all cookies, a task not fitted to something with thoughts and feelings. She tried oh so hard to be nothing at all, ascend herself until she had no cookie form, no thoughts, no feelings. Her efforts to become nothing more than an omnipotent concept were in vain and it was all his fault.

Could anybody really blame the wise Fount for her knowing fate was to fall regardless of how long it’s been? The witches weren’t going to grant her omnipotence if she crumbled for it.

-

A noise of a skittering squeal broke him out of his thoughts just before the pivotal moment - frustration burned in his chest at having been alarmed by such a lowly creature such a Rat. His companion knelt down to try catch it in his hands, to no avail. Tch, Fool.

Pure Vanilla stood up and held his staff at an angle to suggest he was trying to read the constellations on the ceiling: painted in silver and illuminated by the bright blue fire of the ghost candles, a special kind of wax that never stopped burning.

“What are you seeing?” Shadow Milk asked, for no reason other than to make conversation after that embarrassing flinch.

“They tell the story of two friends,” Pure Vanilla said, “They explored the world together, documenting all kinds of phenomena. Along the way, they made new friends who would help them on their quest to find the absolute meaning behind this world. White Lily used to love that story, she copied the scripts down in her notebook so she could translate it, just for me.”

Shadow Milk would’ve said something, maybe a dumb comment, but the reminder of how he’d painted the stars to tell that story ached him. After that last memory before the river, especially.

“You say, she translated the whole story, just for you? But I painted that story across the whole first and second floor… how long did it take?”

“You painted it?” Pure Vanilla eyes widened with wonder, coming over to grab his hands, “That’s incredible! I knew you were an artist, but never…. Oh.” His smile faltered into a resigned sigh, “You’re making that up, aren’t you?”

“Am I ma— NO! How Dare you assume I, the founder of this very establishment, would fabricate such a pitiful lie for the sake of some throwaway comment!” He pulled Pure Vanilla into the hall where the staircases lead every direction, over which a dome of constellations in a spiral shone with real starlight. “I spent a lot of time on this ceiling, months at least! That’s not to mention trying to format the stars so they would run along two different floors without any inconsistencies! Witches, out of all the times to decide I’m lying.”

Pure Vanilla grabbed his hands to pull him back down with the smile returned to his face, “Well, then I’m happy to say I’m astounded by your handiwork. Thank you for giving us this magnificent ceiling, it served as a great gift to have it translated for me.” He stepped back and turned to move upstairs, still gazing at the ceiling with reverent wonder. “Who would’ve thought you responsible for a story that used to give me so much hope when I was just starting out.”

“Hope? Please, Hope is nothing but a cheap trick of the mind. I was working my Deceit upon you since the day you were baked.”

Pure Vanilla’s staff tapped on the tiles as he ascended, no other noise came until he reached the top and turned, “No, I don’t think you intended to know me at all before I received my soul jam. It was pure coincidence. Some might even call it fate. To me, it’s an undefined variable. You’ve seen the future, do you think we were always supposed to meet like this?”

Shadow Milk struggled for an answer. In his youth, he’d indeed discovered the secret to glimpsing the future, to seeing potential outcomes. For the most part, it was possible to predict certain things based on previous events: Weather, celestial bodies, even the death and regrowth of civilization. Most relied on pattern recognition.

But new horizons opened up as predicted; the world will grow no matter what. Scribing, tarot reading, using the stars as divine messengers, bending time to his will to glimpse bits and pieces of potential futures. Time was, for mortal beings, akin to a straight line or a counter that only ever rose, and so deciphering their futures using the knowledge of their past actions and the natural consequences would reveal all he needed.

But he could go further: In order to accurately predict the objective future, one would have to take all variables into account; the butterfly effect, as it was called, made it nearly impossible to do so, as no cookie could ever process every micro-action happening at any given moment. Such exact understanding of every conceivable outcome to exist made living meaningless. But, as an immortal nearly all powerful Virtue, he had none such issue.

Taking hold of such power could’ve rendered him with strength beyond that of even the witches; he could control fate itself.

And yet, it was the foreseen fate of his friends, the thought of their grief that truly made him afraid. If he could weave the fates of every cookie, know every answer in the world, change those answers at a wave…

Oh, what did it matter if they suffered? A life lived in avoidance of pain would ultimately be one without lessons, without room for growth; cookies already suffocated themselves on their refusal to face cruel realities. As the Fount of Knowledge, it was his job first and foremost to ensure cookies never stop learning; So then, with all this power to Control the narrative, what was he waiting for? He could finally be the greatest teacher in the world!

He seized the reigns of control like he was baked for it —and as Knowledge was reduced to Deceit, he lost his ability to see the future’s path with it — all he saw was darkness. That was the first sign of his downfall, of the eternal prison awaiting him at the end of this path: at the time he simply thought the witches had stolen away his foresight and gone mad with vengeance.

And yet, here he was, still standing on the landing under the stars he’d painted for his best friends all those years ago.

Friends. Tch. They weren’t friends. Certainly not now. That’s the fun thing about being unforgivable; it lends you more stability to know you’ll remain unsalvageable for eternity than it does to be greeted with compassionate words such as…

“Shadow Milk cookie?”

He returned his focus to the present moment, where Pure Vanilla was still standing at the top of the landing to the second floor, and Shadow Milk was below, likely frozen in place for about a minute or two while he was pondering.

Silently, he floated up to join Pure Vanilla, the remainder of his power. A power that wasn’t his anymore.

They traveled through an old classroom, and Pure Vanilla took a few books off the shelves and flipped through them. Notebooks, from the handwriting.

“What’re you doing?”

“Seeing if I recognise any of these names. So far it seems the academy lived long enough to… forget about my classmates. Aside from myself of course.” He shut one of the books with a click and moved on to the next room, “I could swear there was always a cookie with some daring idea of scientific discovery, strange that none of these mention anything about lab accidents.” The tap of his staff provided a soothing rhythm to the journey through the alchemy rooms. Indeed, charred tables surrounded an elaborate display of glass chemistry equipment, and Pure Vanilla even traced a smile into the dust around his desk, which was hilariously more burnt than others.

But all in all, this stroll through the academy was starting to drag on - was Pure Vanilla trying to waste his time on purpose? They entered another hall and Pure Vanilla knocked on the lockers one by one, checking for any openings.

“My investigations with the Brave cookies will be more focused than this one. I’m sorry if I’m stalling us, I just saw an opportunity to reminisce… it’s been a long time since I walked these halls.”

“Are you hearing my thoughts or did you just think of that yourself?”

Pure Vanilla stared up at him, “Well, sometimes your thoughts translate over. I can’t help that I still hear it sometimes. What about you, do you still hear me in your mind?”

Shadow Milk stared at him. He supposed, if he was ever hearing Pure Vanilla’s voice, it was usually drowned out by the other voices of the soul jam. If they fused their soul jams again, maybe it would be clearer. Their telepathy would be perfect to a point of pointlessness, seeing as they’d be the same consciousness spread across two bodies.

Would true unity ever be possible?

A foolish question, really.

He already knew from the moment he’d briefly been awoken by a rippling anguish. Pure Vanilla had been awarded the purified remains of his soul jam, and as its new owner, ripped away a piece of him that could never be returned. The Light of Truth, as it was now called, became its own being, separated from the Fount and connected intrinsically to Pure Vanilla. It was Pure Vanilla, and even after that brief moment where they became a single consciousness across two bodies, the Light of Truth had remained unchanged. That tiny spark in the infinite darkness was how Pure Vanilla was still capable enough to defy his will and steal back his power.

Was he ever really angry at Pure Vanilla, or just at the witches who had set him up for failure from the beginning? What cruel games they played on their creations! How could they possibly believe themselves more righteous than him and his fellow Beasts, who’d been made and destroyed in their image?

They strolled into the gymnasium together, one of his favourite places in the academy by chance. Former favourite. Whatever. Very typically, the gymnasium was used for games instead of hard training like they might have in warrior academies. He’d once explained to Silent Salt cookie, “The cookies here preform mental gymnastics as opposed to physical.” And let out a skittering laugh to the Knight’s confusion. It was still funny to him now.

“Shadow Milk, you’ve been awful quiet since I asked you that question… Is something plaguing your mind?”

Shadow Milk scoffed. “Just the terrible heartache of remembering what once was all mine!” He sighed dramatically. “Oh don’t make that face, I was kidding! Kinda.” Shadow Milk floated over the gigantic chess board in the centre of the gymnasium, wonderfully familiar. “Say, Nilly, what do you think of a rematch?”

Pure Vanilla stepped forward onto the game board, and as he did so, the pieces sprung to life to wave at one another. He glanced around before returning his gaze to Shadow Milk, who was still floating above the board. “What questions could you really ask me? You know this will only end in you getting hurt, right?”

“Whaaaat? You give yourself too much credit - spare me a few pennies. Please, I didn’t even tell you the rules of this game!”

His head tilted curiously, but the idea of New Rules seemed to incite some amount of exasperation within him as his shoulders slouched with the sigh he gave. “Go on then. Establish the boundaries of the game - as if neither of us is thinking of breaking them anyhow.”

“Awww! Bringing up some bad memories?” He twirled his staff and the pieces changed shape - instead of chess pieces, they were now all based on figures of his past: the Beasts, the fairy guardian, a few random other figures who bore some vague importance, and finally the board turned into a stage upon which his props and puppets could be better set upon.

“Well then, how about this; the rules are simple, you get to chose your own ending to this story! All you have to do is make the logical decisions of your pawns and I’ll narrate their little actions as you go.”

“That does not sound related to chess in the slightest.”

“It’s not! But I’ve changed my mind about playing chess. Let’s play a new game, this one will be Sure to enlighten you about some good old history your teachers never taught ya! I bet not even that old pest knew the full truth. What do y’know, I’m right here to explain it for you. Ready? Let the show begin!”

—

Alright, we can skip the yap about the five virtues, you already know that story. Instead, let me introduce our protagonists; the Bishop and the Knight! Best friends, real close. And their friends, the Rook, the White Queen and the King.

“Does it have to be the White Queen?”

Tsk tsk, oh you silly Vanilly, who do you think this Represents?!

“Oh I know, it’s just that… the Bishop and the Knight are both black pieces, but the rest are white.”

Well, you’ll figure that out soon enough. Did I mention chess rules still apply in some places? You’re playing black. Anyways!

Yonder Beast Yeast, the pair of black pieces will travel the lands, the Bishop in search of some ultimate Truth; It was his job to bring the Truth to cookiekind, and the noble Knight had agreed to help him. After all, such a task is not made for one simple cookie, even an all powerful one.

“But you seemed to find the Truth just fine on your own, why did you need a second cookie—?”

Ugh. Are you going to question this story the whole time? Shut up and listen!

Along the way they found friends, companions, kingdoms! Not important though, I just thought you should know how that star story ends; I never did find space to write the ending I wanted! (That’s probably because the ending hadn’t happened yet….) Uh Oh! Was I pantsing that magnificent artwork? What a shocking twist of events!

“You ended it with the Knight falling in battle and the Bishop using the last of their combined strength to defeat the darkness.”

Awwwahahhahaha, yeah. I really did think we were going to be the ones repelling the darkness. Never thought I’d become it, Heh!

So, now that you know where we set our scene, perhaps I should enlighten you on some side plots that had been happening at the same time?

The White Queen, a benevolent soul who granted wishes to all the cookie’s who approached her, laid trinkets for her, or clasped their hands in prayer. Quite the ball of sunshine she was. As she grew into her role, she took on a maternal role for her subjects, giving them everything she could to satisfy them in life. Ahh, but cookies are merely So greedy! Hedonism really does have its downsides, hm?

Just saying, it was no surprise that the pressure broke her so quickly. The role of omnipotence is not fit for someone who has thoughts and feelings of their own. To give and give until there is none left for you… a sentiment I’m sure you understand a-very personally.

Moving on! So, what would the White Queen do in her circumstances, becoming too small for the big role she had assigned herself to play?

(I, as the narrator and also the one playing white, am currently moving the piece into a little fortress of pawns that you can pretend is a lavish pagoda. Hey what do you know, I Do control the narrative! Suck it, witches!)

*The witches will not confirm nor deny that they were behind the creation of this story. Shadow Milk cookie will never be omnipotent enough to know either.

“She sealed herself away?”

COOOORRRECT! Ding ding! Applause!

Ahem. I’m overblowing it to distract everyone from that weird meta fiction moment.

“What meta—”

The BISHOP, being the ONLY ONE who could ACTUALLY see cause and effect, was DEALING with some rather DESTRUCTIVE consequences to a certain OTHER piece’s grief.

But you already know how that ends, don’t you?

So, the Knight was busy on the other side of the continent trying to console the White Queen. What do you think you’d do in his situation?

(Pure Vanilla commands the piece, then reconsiders, and moves it again, and again, and then to its starting position as he thinks about this.)

(Eventually, his chin turns back up to me.) “You’ve set this pagoda so it’s impossible to reach her fortress. I’d have to move away from her in order to find a new route to reach her.”

And that’s exactly what the Knight did; He reconvened with the Bishop about their troubles and concluded that it really would be easier if they switched places. One had a way with words, and the other was more versed in combat to protect the world. So they switched — (The pieces swap positions on the board) — now, the Knight was off fighting against the Rook, and the Bishop was trying to convince the White Queen to leave her fortress. But there’s just one problem. Can you see it?

“The Bishop is only allowed to move on black tiles, and the Queen is on a white tile. He also had no way of reaching her, except through some backwards manoeuvre to go in diagonally…” (Pure Vanilla dips his head in thought, and when he comes back to earthbread, he is moving the piece away again.) “They only needs to get close, right?”

Hmm, close might not be enough anymore, my dear. For, while everyone else was off busy fighting, something terrible happened that the Bishop was ashamed to have witnessed first hand.

Strolling past all the pilgrims who’d set up outside her pagoda, and the stack of wilting offerings, he discovered that within her cocoon, she was destroying herself. Enlightenment, she had called it. But to the Bishop, it seemed as if she were trying to remove herself from existence to become no more than a concept, a god that might’ve granted every wish given, but ultimately held no substance in the physical world. A being without thoughts, feelings, dreams of their own.

How terrifying it is, to live that way.

—

The Bishop and the Knight reconvened one last time before the breaking point, sat in the Spire’s fancy dining room.

“We have to find another way… words aren’t working anymore. She’s completely sealed herself off!” The Bishop paced the room back and forth, fingers lacing through his white strands. By this point, the stars in his hair had already turned to eyes, hidden amongst the galaxy. There was just enough of him left to care about their old friend, and it ripped him apart.

The Knight sat and watched him. Having taken his helmet off revealed a nasty scar running along his cheek up to his nose. His hair had grown darker like wisps of smoke as opposed to the once translucent white it had been before the war. If one looked close enough, the iridescent sheen still came through in some lightings. The chandelier was not one of them.

“Okay, I’m the Fount of all Knowledge, there has to be a solution I’ve just been too brain fogged to think up yet… Salty, you know me like no other, what would I do if I wasn’t currently paralysed?”

“I don’t know… run away?”

“Yes, okay. But we can’t run. What’s the Next thing I’d do after that?”

The Knight put his helmet in his lap and rested his head on it. “Probably talk your way out of it. But talking hasn’t been working.”

The Bishop’s shoulders dropped. “Not you too! Gosh, is there any hope left in this world!”

“That’s what I’m wondering.” A heavy sigh fell out of them both. A clock was ticking somewhere in the background to document the seconds slipping through their fingers as the world destroyed itself. “You’re a liar, I’m a coward, sugar is missing, and spice is… crazy. If Volition has already left us, what’s the point anymore?”

The Bishop’s heart ached, though it needn’t have. He was so, so terrible to the mortal cookies that surrounded him. It was really only one spark left within him that made him want to drag the White Queen out of her state so much, combined with the dream of a timeline where none of this was real, where they could all still live peacefully.

All for the sake of an identity, huh?

This was all the witches fault. Why would they bake such powerful beings only to have them struggle with the very same feelings that a mortal cookie would? To make them kinder? More forgiving of cookiekind’s flaws?

“Fine, fine! I have an idea!” The Bishop said at last. “You’re still friends with the Silver King, right?” (Side note, please ignore that the king chess piece is White. I’m trying to make it obvious who this could be!)

“I am.” The Knight said, raising his head, “What could he do about this?”

The Bishop tilted his head, “Welllll, he’s always been the strongest fairy. Fairies use music as their magic. The White Queen used to love music. Maybe a song would cheer her up.”

The Knight’s head fell back onto the table, “She’s not listening to our words, what makes you think she’ll listen to his?”

“Song-form~!”

The Knight sighed again. “At this point, it would be easier to get the witches involved.”

The Bishop snapped around immediately. “Don’t get the witches involved.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Then everyone will know it was all my fault. Because nobody will ever forgive me if I end up getting us all sealed away. Because I can’t lose you on top of everything. “Because the witches were the ones who put her in that position in the first place. Why would they ever want to pull her out?”

He pushed himself back and looked to the ceiling, “At this point, I think it might be our only option, unless we wanna bust that door down with the power of violence.” He sank into his chair, “I don’t want to fight anymore. It all feels so meaningless.”

The Bishop planted his feet on the ground and looped his arms around the Knight. His armour was unpleasantly cold despite the warmth of the body inside of it. “Then you don’t have to do anything. I’ll figure it out, I always do.” He cupped the Knight’s face. “You should get some rest. Promise you won’t go to the witches though. They’ll only make things worse.”

—

Pure Vanilla stared at the board, and then back up at Shadow Milk. Rendered speechless, a sign of Shadow Milk’s magnificent storytelling. Any performance of his would do the same!

After a moment of being slack jawed, Pure Vanilla let out a kind of sob and shut his mouth, “And he still went to the witches, I take it?

Shadow Milk sat on the black (unchanged) Rook’s head. “Oh yeah. But we have a few more scenes before that happens. What do you think of my lovely recreation so far? Is it getting you all emotional?

Pure Vanilla sighed. He traced a line down the face of the white king. So sad to see him go so quickly after their first meeting. Psh, if he knew the fairy guardian like Shadow Milk had, he would not have been so upset.

“I sympathise with these characters. Even though I know the next chapter will reveal some grand evil lurking beneath the surface… my heart goes out to those desperate souls who only wanted to save the ones they held dear.”

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes. “Ugh, there you go. I knew you’d say that.”

Pure Vanilla stepped forward to offer a hand out to Shadow Milk. “It’s not Me if I’m not the ever-forgiving light in your dark void of self loathing. But go ahead, tell me how the story ends.”

Shadow Milk considered the path ahead. The cold dread seeped in just from visualising the Pagoda in flames, so he took Pure Vanilla’s hands and dropped down from the Rook’s head. For a searing moment, they stared into one another’s eyes, and his heart knew it then; This would be the last time Pure Vanilla looked at him sympathetically ever again. He’d cut out all the shenanigans he’d done along the way to this moment, all to make himself less of a villain; but he couldn’t escape it now.

“You promise you won’t pretend any of your real feelings away?” The soul jam hummed at his neck, “I don’t want you to be lying when you say wether you hate me or not.”

“Right now, I don’t hate you.”

“I know, but when the story is over.”

“I don’t think I’ll hate you then, either.” He squeezed their hands, “Now look who’s giving themselves too much credit. It’s as I said, nothing you show me can be worse than what I’ve already seen. You have to trust me.”

Trust. Right, that word again.

Pure Vanilla’s hand came up to cup Shadow Milk’s face. The warmth allowed him to forget for a moment, that he was a character in the story he was about to tell. He could’ve finished this tale and pretended he was nothing more than a bard relaying an ancient myth to his singular audience. That none of this was his doing.

He leaned his face into the touch. If only the warmth could permeate his whole body, but trying to press the hand harder against his face proved that impossible.

“Finish the story, please.”

He stepped back, allowed Pure Vanilla’s hands to linger before he waved his arms like a conductor and the pieces sprung back to life. Maybe he wouldn’t be forgiven, but the smile on Pure Vanilla’s face was dazzling enough to make it all worth it.

—

So, any historian could tell you that it was bandits that had invaded Mystic Flour cookie’s pagoda, “stole treasure,” ripped her cocoon asunder, but that’s always felt to me like it was missing a few details – because it was!

What, Pure Vanilla?

“Sorry, sorry. Are you still using chess metaphors, or…?”

Ohhh right. Ahem. You didn’t hear that name drop!

The stories said the WHITE QUEEN’s fortress was attacked by bandits. This is shockingly uncommon Knowledge. And it’s good that it is, because chalking it up to bandits is taking the credit away from yours truly, the duet that never stops being relevant in this story, even when one of them hasn’t appeared in at least thirteen chapters! That’s right, it’s B- Ahem, THE ROOOOOOOK!

(The White Rook is illuminated by a single spotlight and a lot of fire)

The Bishop, turning the words of his companion over in his head, decided that, maybe violence was the answer! And so, returning again to the desert, he made an offering to the Rook, avoiding another brawl with his wonderful skills of charisma, Spreading a rumour in his kingdom about there being spoils worth of riches inside the Ivory Pagoda.

Hey wait, where are you going?!

“They have a water station at the side of the room, I’ll be right back.”

You little… I cannot believe they chose You as my successor. If you wanted water, you could have just said so!

Ahem, so The wild spices are a little too greedy for their own good, and upon hearing of the alleged stash of jewels in the ivory pagoda, they all flocked to scavenge it, which made it all too easy to get that pesky door open.

That’s not the important part, by the way, I just needed to establish that they were all there and… Oh, what is it now?

“Pillow.”

(Snap.) I better not hear any more from you, this is where the story gets serious, no more jokes!

The White Queen’s home was ripped apart, her cocoon was ravaged and she was retrieved. The violence didn’t stop at her cocoon - the Bishop had failed to account for the arrogance of mortals. The Knight arrived to slaughter all the greedy mortals and save her from their hands which would’ve crumbled her if she didn’t give them what they wanted. Many tried to escape with her power, but in the end, Silence fell upon the pagoda. But the fire still burned when the Knight finally turned on the Bishop, who’d watched the whole scene go down without interference.

—

Shadow Milks hands dropped. “Actually. I think I’m going to tell you the Truth. There’s no value in telling you this story if you’re only going to side with me in the end.”

—

You see, I’ve been quite the unreliable narrator this whole time. The Bishop’s own spiral into madness had turned him cruel, a trickster at heart. He acted with a myriad of reasons; to save the Queen, yes, but also to teach her a lesson. Power begets Arrogance. No day was this statement truer than the day he had led an army upon her doorstep.

He watched the Destruction with cruel, sickening amusement. He believed himself righteous in this situation, he blamed her for her arrogance, when in reality it… it was he, who was arrogant.

Now, her power had been reduced to what she’d made herself; Nothingness. Once a powerful and benevolent Virtue who blessed the world with her magic, her only purpose was to return others to nothing, just like she’d tried to turn herself.

And the Knight, who had placed his trust in the Bishop to fix the mess he’d made, grew only angrier. I’ve been leaving that part out too - no longer were the pair friends by the time they had needed to ally with one another. This, as fate would have it, was the breaking point for the Knight’s patience.

In the flames of destruction surrounding them… well, I’ll let the pieces speak for themselves.

—

The Jester had not been Fount in a long time. The spire had hallways that twisted upside down and his servants tended to don disguises when they had guests over, not that they did so too often.

What else but a harmless rumour to lighten up the mood of his sullen friend, who had shut herself away? Alas, not everybody is so unburdened by the sins they commit, such was proven by the heavy shoulders of the Knight who had slain thousands of cookies to protect their fellow Virtue.

“I take it you were not well rested.” The Jester said, “Ah, shame! And all those times I told you not to overdo it. Now look at you. Hardly strong enough to raise your sword.”

“Do not tell me… you are responsible for this…All these cookies, just from one rumour?”

The Jester twisted around to view the gruesome scene. “I can’t imagine it was All of them. Some cookies band together because they want to go where the crowd goes; Solidarity, as I understand, was always a facet of cookie-nature. It’s why you, with your blade of Salt, are the last of us Beasts to truly lose their minds.”

“No… you’re wrong.” The Knight murmured.

The Jester leaned in closer. “What was that? Didn’t quite hear ya!”

“I said you’re Wrong!” The Knight sprang forth, his hands interlocking around the Jester’s neck and squeezing his thumbs in like he was trying to pop the head clean off his shoulders. The Jester allowed himself to be lifted off the ground, too amused by this show of anger to reveal that his head was no longer connected to his shoulders in the first place. “You, You and Spice-! Everyone! All of you!” He threw the Jester to the ground, “You’re all responsible for this! Ever since you broke the peace of this world, it has been nothing but chaos, division. You might think Change was the second to fall, but you’re wrong.” His eyes signalled hysteria, like a bloodthirsty hound, “It was Me! It was me the moment you began to spread your useless lies! For what, Fount? Why did you bother to break the perfectly good peace of this world? Why did you have to shatter me along with it?” He brandished his sword, raised it high as to swing it down in an arc. The Jester had just enough time to dodge the attack when it happened.

“Come now, I saved her life, didn’t I?”

“You destroyed her home, and heralded the deaths of a thousand cookies at her feet!” The Knight struck again, aiming for the neck - not to behead, but to break. The soul jam. “I Trusted you, and you betrayed me over-“ Slash! “And Over!” Crack! “AND OVER AGAIN!” Finally a hit landed, his legs cracked with the force. The Jester screamed at the impact, but the Knight didn’t stop; he raised his sword again to bring it crashing down on the Jester. “I hate you, I will destroy you here and now if it means this stops!”

The Jester had just enough time to raise his staff and use it to parry the blade aimed at his face. The Knight was over him, pushing his greatsword ever closer to his face. The Jester winced with the strength it took to keep him at bay. “Nothing will make it stop.” He hissed, “It’s too late now, Salty. Everyone you care for has gone mad, and now it’s only a matter of time before the world is turned to dust. What do you think you can do to stop it?”

“You never wanted this.” The Knight said, “Your arrogance will betray you tenfold. I will make it my dying goal to return peace to earthbread.” He let go of his hold on the sword, just in time for Shadow Milk to slip free- but something caught his foot before he could, and a heavy boot was placed on his back. “I’m tired of this. Of you. Of soul jams. Of power. If I must kill myself with you, I will die to ensure the new world has nothing like you in it.”

“Heh, Salty the coward, you’re not going to kill me.”

The Knight sighed and lifted his boot, only to bring it down hard on the Jester’s broken leg. “Run away like you always do, foul Beast. The stars are waiting for you.”

—

The story doesn’t end there. The Knight, having made up his mind about trapping himself and his old friend in hell eternally, went to the last vestige of power with a sane mind - the Silver King.

Having no more to give than an eternal pledge of gratitude and the purest portion of his soul jam (which you can assume was handed over to the witches for safekeeping when all was said and done) neither of which were taken lightly, Silent Salt cookie vowed to end all the suffering of the cookie world.

The Silver King took his offerings with a grave nod. In the end, he did what both of us couldn’t; he went to the witches. The rest is history. Funny, I still remember that little pest saying his goodbyes to Salty as the fork was flying down. He turned his head so he didn’t have to watch it strike. I doubt he ever forgot the scent of jam on his armour after that night.

—

Shadow Milk sigh and dropped to his knees in the middle of the game board. “And that’s the end. Not very happy, is it? Oftentimes, the Truth is much more nuanced than what the stories say.”

After an eternity of no response, Pure Vanilla rose off his pillow seat, and broke the silence with the tapping of his staff against the marble floors. Shadow Milk was too afraid to look up, for fear that his compassionate gaze was now filled with hatred and disgust.

Or, worse: what if it was still there, and it was still real, and all the effort he’d put into retelling the story of his worst act yet was in vain?

“I have a lot of questions,” Pure Vanilla started, “Most of them can be summed up in one word; Why?”

Finally he heard Pure Vanilla’s thoughts ring through his soul jam: Why bring me here? Why tell me this story? Why tell it truthfully, despite your role as the Great Deciever?

“I think you and I both know why I did all of this,” He let the words come out slowly, stalling to gather the courage to look up, “I told you, I don’t want you to lie about wether or not you hate me now.”

Pure Vanilla’s gaze was thankfully schooled into neutrality, and more was it curious than any other feeling. “You know, it was getting unclear just who I was meant to root for in this story. No doubt because you decided to switch your narration to favour yourself less towards the end.”

Heh, alright captain obvious. “Maybe you weren’t supposed to root for either of us by the end. We’re the Beasts, remember? You were never meant to sympathise with us.”

“And yet, I do.” Pure Vanilla amended, “How does it feel now? Got a weight off your chest? Or is there now a sort of heartache that bringing this up has caused you?”

Shadow Milk pushed back up to float in the air. The memory of how his leg was broken made him wary to even Try touching the floor. “What does it matter! You shouldn’t be offering me any reprieve for my suffering, I deserve it with every crumb in my dough.”

The Saint’s eyes widened, and his hand raised to his chest. Oh, was he surprised? Pitiful, he should have seen this coming. Shadow Milk didn’t give him time to formulate a response, moving onto the next hallway.

The observatory, made of glass panes and telescopes lining the hall in even increments. The stars looked lovely tonight. They were waiting for Me. Brilliant and distant, just like him. So magnificent, untouchable. He never could verify if the stars in this world were real. Well, nobody could ever verify if He was real either, for the longest time. Both as a Fount and a Beast, because to meet your idol in person was nigh impossible for the millions of cookies that existed on earth-bread. And no mortal was allowed inside the Fairy kingdom to see the silver tree up close. To most in Crispia, he was nothing more than a folk tale, a bedtime story for parents to tell children so they would behave: did teenagers still write stories about the Beasts, giving them moments of sympathy and grief to cling to to cope with their own issues?

He looked in the reflection of the observatory’s glass dome. Guess he and his friends would live on no matter what happened. And if they were forgotten, it was for the best. Remembering the pain only made it live on inside a new vessel. At some point, Honour is not a valid excuse to hold onto it.

The tapping of Pure Vanilla’s staff came right on cue, but Shadow Milk refused to look back at him. There was still a chance he wasn’t going to be forgiven, not that he should be.

“Now, Shadow Milk, I suppose I wasn’t expecting you to be so openly remorseful about your actions but you seem… far more downcast by this than any other time I’ve seen you. And I’ve seen you cry.” A flutter or something a bit like shame but more lukewarm wormed it’s way through Shadow Milk. Oh dear, he’d really laid himself bare for Pure Vanilla, huh.

“Don’t- urgh… Why are you still so naive?” He pushed the hair back from his face and looked over. Pure Vanilla was pitying him again. Foolish Saint, too forgiving for this world. “In case the ending wasn’t clear to you, I was responsible for Mystic Flour’s pagoda being ripped apart!”

“I know.”

“But I Liked watching the chaos unfold, even the part where it all come back to bite me. That’s what you’re not getting about this! I’m not a good person, Pure Vanilla. I take pride in the scenes I create, I enjoy seeing others suffer because it entertains me! You and your mortal friends are no more than playthings for me to make up whatever narrative I want! It used to be that I’d take a cast of characters and push them along into whatever leads to a satisfying plotline, it’s never out of consideration of anybody’s feelings. Why, tell me, Why, are you so dead set on trying to bring me down to earthbread when I have Nothing to justify me staying there? The only options are that I win, and you all become my puppets, or I lose, and you kill me once and for all. There nothing inside of me that deserves a second chance, and if there is, the rest of me is enough to make up for it.”

Pure Vanilla had been taking steps forward, and Shadow Milk floating back an equal distance as he said his speech, until they were inside the mini-library filled with guides and notebooks and desks for the students to write on.

Pure Vanilla took note of the location and scanned the bookshelves through his staff’s vision, but his eyes stayed on Shadow Milk. After a tense pause, he seemed to break the inner layer of turmoil, because he let out a small huff of laughter.

"Is that really what you think of yourself?" Pure Vanilla said at last. "Gosh, you have been so honest today." He crossed the room faster than Shadow Milk was expecting, leaving hardly any personal space between them. Shadow Milk floated back instinctively until his back hit something solid and Pure Vanilla’s hands shot out to pin his wrists to either side of him. “It’s not like you to be so honest, my dear. I’m so proud of you for speaking the Truth.”

“No… what are you doing?”

“Nothing. That wasn’t the point. The point is… You have no reason to believe I would forsake you over your past, Shadow Milk cookie. I know you, I might not understand every facet of you, but I’ve seen glimpses of your heart, the soul that rests beneath the mask. It’s really not so different from who you present yourself as - enthusiastic, analytical, curious beyond moral limits, sadistic in your genius schemes. You remind me a lot of someone who I used to go to school with.”

“Don’t compare me to her.”

“No, you’re different people, I know. Very different. Alas, I can’t help but to see the parallels. Nobody stopped you until it was too late either. And even then, you came right back.”

“Pure Vanilla cookie…!”

Their soul jams had started pulsing again. “Don’t… come closer. Nilly, the soul jams—!”Pure Vanilla smiled, noticing what was happening, and unclasped his soul jam brooch. And then he reached for Shadow Milk’s ruffle collar and undid that too, using the pile of fabric as a pillow for his soul jam. “It’s no surprise, really, that I find you so alluring. It’s just like me to fall for the same kind twice.”

“What-!”With the threat of the fusion gone, Pure Vanilla took the opportunity to get closer than ever before, leaning into Shadow Milk’s shoulder, pressing their chests together. Both of their hearts pounded in their chests, completely out of sync but somehow it made the rhythm more pronounced. Wait, this feels nice. Why does it feel nice?

“Nevermind. Don’t focus on that.” His breath brushed against Shadow Milk’s now exposed shoulder. The weight of that collar really was the only thing that might’ve kept him confident. Cookies had no conventions of modesty, but being bare and Feeling bare were two very different things. Yes, there were still layers of fabric between them, that didn’t help the way his heart drummed furiously upon the warmth. “It’s not my decision to say whether you’ll ever be forgiven for what you did in the past. The only power I have over that is the decision to continue trying to be your friend. And, if it hasn’t been made clear from the way I keep coming back to you when you’re down… I’m not going to stop trying until I crumble.”

Right now, he couldn’t care about forgiveness, all his thoughts were about keeping his breathing steady. “You really don’t have to be here.”

“Then why haven’t you stopped me?”

Please just turn your head that little more up, this is unbearable. “I can’t really do much with you being so close. You’re basically squished against me.”

“Sorry.” Pure Vanilla’s voice wobbled, and Shadow Milk could register his hands were shaking. He didn’t sound upset, so what was it that was making him so…? “I know you don’t understand these kinds of things. Just… let me stay here.”

“You have an ulterior motive.”

Pure Vanilla laughed under his breath. “I don’t know what to say… I should be hurt that you hold so little trust in me still, Milky.” He nestled his head in the crook of Shadow Milk’s shoulder. “I can’t blame you. It makes no sense, does it? We were never meant to be this close.”

“You’re pushing your luck as it is.”

Finally, he pulled away, but his hands stayed on Shadow Milk’s wrists. “I don’t know. I think I could push harder than this. But I won’t,” his voice went quiet to a whisper, “Because it’s not right. I promised I wouldn’t force you to be my friend. Or anything else.”

Anything else?

“What do you mean by that?”

Pure Vanilla averted his gaze.

“Nilly.”

“Remember how you told me not to lie about my feelings? Does that… does that rule still apply?”

His heart wasn’t sure whether to drop or explode. No. This wasn’t happening. What was he even supposed to say when the Truth came out? Was this going to be a predictable confession or was he about to be pleasantly surprised?

Witches, please let me be pleasantly surprised. I’m not ready for this. Any of this.

As if the witches had heard his prayers, some new gaggle of voices sounded down the hall. Three little cookies. The wizard’s distinctively annoyed drawl caught his attention.

Pure Vanilla flinched back and stared down the door to the library. Were they here so soon?

Not that Shadow Milk cared, for that tiny moment that Pure Vanilla had turned his attention away from him, he fled through his other realm and back to the chilling silence of the Dark Cacao hospital. For once, he preferred the agonising sting of the cold over everything else. Nothing could reach him here. Nobody was going to intervene. And the sound of Pure Vanilla’s voice would not reach his ears for however long it took to forget him. Right now, he needed to take a nap, and to hope his dreams would not include that stupid Saint in them.

Chapter Text

As far as getting kidnapped went, this was definitely not her first rodeo. A sweet, helpless girl, who better to keep as a hostage?

Little would they know how tricky the little girl now stuck in a suspended wooden cage would be indeed.

At first, she had simply waited for the others to return to get her, but by the time the bonfire was lit again, she began to worry that Shadow Milk cookie had forgotten all about her.

Are you going to follow me, or do I get to be abandoned by my servants too? Pteh! Ironic, that he abandoned her in the end.

The great destroyer had chosen to put off crumbling her as he believed she could be used as leverage over Shadow Milk cookie. She wanted to argue that he would never fall for such an obvious trap, he was the smartest, wisest cookie of all after all. But he would at least be hurt to lose such a loyal servant, right?

The Fount was kneeling over a broken vase.

Whatever had upset him so much? The flowers were still in perfect condition, but if he didn’t sweep them up and replace their container they would be left to rot.

This was one of the rare occasions that Candy Apple ever saw her new master snap.

She’d boasted to her school friends about being in his service, getting to travel earth bread, the secret early morning missions to plant little seeds of doubt in cookie’s hearts. They didn’t believe her at first. That’s so funny, she never even noticed that their disbelief could’ve been a side effect of his gradual turn to the dark side. In a world without deceit, there would be no reason to doubt at all. And yet they did, they doubted. But she could make them believe. He was teaching her how to. So she vowed not to tell anybody about this moment, for fear that this maybe hurt him more than her. Even If they doubted her once, she feared they would not make that mistake a second time, now that she’d learnt the skills of persuasion like second nature.

What did he do that for? In the hopes she might one day follow in his footsteps, become a teacher?

Laughable. What cookie would ever want to return to school, to deal with the students’ attitudes head on, to be seen as so powerful yet never use it for what truly mattered; protecting cookie kind?

“I want to equip you all with the necessary information to-“ All ridiculous excuses. Was it simply not a teacher’s job to prevent violence when it happened to their students?

Was that why The Fount never personally intervened?

Returning to the present, at some point she grew bored of playing a damsel in distress and decided it was time to begin entertaining herself on the annoyance of others.

“Sooooo… does the great destroyer ever reward you for your service? Does he give you caaaanddy?”

“What on earth-bread are you talking about?”

“Hah! Not even a few coins? My dearest Shadow Milk cookie could never!”

The nutmeg guard’s brow furrowed. “He gives you candy to keep you in line?”

“Hmmmmm-Nope! Well, sometimes.”

Eventually she started rocking the cage back and worth and using it as a swing.

“Weeeee! Ehehehe!”

“Stop that!” The guards said.

“Try to stop me.” She squeaked, “I bet you ca~n’t!”

They poked their spears through the bars and she danced and danced around them until a terrifyingly deep voice came up behind Nutmeg tiger and all froze.

“What is the meaning of this?” Said the Great Destroyer.

“Sir!” Nutmeg tiger cookie bowed, “Your greatness, the prisoner is being a bit mischievous as of right now.”

“Mischievous you say?” Burning Spice cookie’s fiery eyes shifted up to look at Candy Apple cookie. “Well, she just might be as entertaining as I thought, coming from a mansion of lies.”

“It’s a Spire of deceit.”

“I know what I said, little cookie.” His gaze pierced right through her, forcing a new memory to resurface. He took sadistic pleasure in watching her search for it in her mind, allowed her to fall to her knees as something terrible, awful, excruciating burnt up in her stomach.

*

She had spilled red wax on the carpet. A rumour had spread that markets add a wax coating to protect the apples from spoiling due to sunlight and air. Some strange thing that morphed into a false scientific explanation to photosynthesis. It was stupid. They were young. She was curious.

And insecure about her hair, the two big bulbs on the side of her head that knocked into other cookies in the halls, that she would have to keep as far away from other as possible.

She gagged as the awful memory resurfaced; her hair was edible. Easily enough, one could bite into the flesh and tear a piece off.

Ouch!

Please stop, I didn’t even do anything!

It was just an apple on a stick.

Your family is rich, you can just buy new ones .

This wasn’t a real memory. It wasn’t. Their teeth were glinting with malicious glee, but not hunger, not Real hunger. She was daydreaming again. It was just something she conjured up to feel... like she was deserved being saved.

Another memory, back to the wax in the carpet.

“Do you like the feeling of being in trouble?”

“No!” She insisted, “I d-

Smack!

“Then stop disobeying me!”

“But I don’t- I didn’t mean to spill it!”

“Then what is it doing on the carpet?”

I was trying to protect myself.

I was trying to protect myself.

I was trying to protect myself.

*

“That’s silly.” The man in the purple suit crossed his legs, flicking his pointed shoes in the milk canal, “You know the wax wouldn’t have stopped them. It might’ve made them a bit sick, but ultimately it serves no purpose.”

“How would you know?” She grumbled.

He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “Who do you think started the circulation of that factoid? It’s true; they do coat apples in a thin layer of edible wax to protect them. Although, I doubt candle wax is exactly edible.”

She stared at the splashes their shoes made, imaging them as seismic waves that would cause her school to crumble. “How else do I stop them?”

“What, the kids in your school? I don’t know. I never needed to stop anybody in mine.”

Her fists bunched at her sides. “And that’s because you attended the oh so perfect academy where no misbehaving is allowed, punishable by expulsion. Your classmates cared about their reputation; mine don’t.”

Sapphire shook his head, huffed a half hearted laugh, “They’re kids, Apple. So are you, despite your concerning vocabulary for your age. But I guess you’re right. Nobody wants to look bad in front of the Fount — Not even the Fount himself. Have you noticed that he started covering the mirrors in the hallways?”

“Don’t. Change. Topics.”

“Alright, alright. Well, what do you want me to do about it?”

She stared at the other side of the milk canal, to the reflections on the curved arches. “If you could bail me out when I crumble those idiots, I’d be in your debt.”

“You’re a kid, Apple. I’m not counting on you having the will to kill.” With the angry stare he received, he ruffled her head and pinched her cheek, “C’mon. You’re a sweetie. Sweetest sweetheart of all sweets.”

“Ew.”

“Fine; let’s go buy some flowers so we can pretend they’re your classmates and burn them one by one.”

He stood, offered his hand and they left the tower of knowledge side by side.

*

Back in the present, a disgusting pile of her dinner was now on the floor of her cage. That dinner not being the one with the kulfi, rather the minimal spicy strew they gave her today, as everything was spiced in this land. It just so happened to make throwing at all up burn that little bit more.

“Don’t disobey me again or I’ll remind you of even more next time.”

“Power, my dear child.”

The one and only Fount had snuck into her bedroom as an apparition, an answer to her many prayers for salvation before his alter in her home. The colours of her former bedroom were contrasted by the fact he’d turned all the candle flames blue. “Thats all anybody with an impure heart ever looks for, it’s why you’re constantly compared to your classmates, it’s why your classmates mistreat you so. It is all about Power. Every single cookie in the world can have a taste of it; for the price of their convictions. Think of it like climbing a mountain, and with you on that trip you would bring all your necessary tools: food, water, a pickaxe and your beliefs.”

“Beliefs?”

“Everything.” His eyes swam around the dimness. “All you’ve ever wanted, known, chosen — It is your core, that…. Belief.” A sad smile crossed his face as he faltered to the end of that sentence. “But anyway, suppose that you get quite high on the mountain of power, but not quite yet to the top. What would you do, little cookie, if you were on that mountain?”

“I’d get down. Daddy says climbing high things is dangerous.”

“Ah, yes you would, young cookie. But your mother clearly does not care for danger; who’d marry a silly boy like your father anyway? Now, she wants to climb high! But in order to do that, she will need to get rid of something, lest it weigh her down and cause her to fall!” The Fount spun his staff in the air and an illusion of a cookie and four items they’d packed floated above them. “Which one do you think would be the easiest to give up?”

“Well…” she thought about it, and his face lit up as he watched her finally thinking for herself. “You need food, you need water, and you can’t climb higher without the pickaxe…so the beliefs?”

“Coooo-rrect!” As he clapped in proud amazement, she felt her heart light up and then quickly drop the moment she heard a knock at the door.

“Who is in there? Stop making so much noise or I’m going-“ the rest of that sentence was muffled by the funny magician’s magic. “You’re right, little girl! I’m so incredibly proud of you.”

“You are? But… How can someone not believe in anything?”

“It’s simple, though maybe that’s where this lesson stops…” He looked again at the door. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt, your mind is so full already. It would be a shame to lose such a star pupil.”

“Can I see you tomorrow? Wait! Just answer me this one question! What- How is it possible to believe in nothing?”

As the Fount put a hand to the window, he looked back at her with a gaze that glossed over from all the thoughts behind it — she would give anything to hear a single word of those thoughts today. “Well, nobody can ever Really believe in nothing. Such a concept is a simple Lie; and that’s your answer. A lie so simple you need only to cling to it and nothing more.”

It nearly felt like a dream. And, technically it Was a dream, one she had just woken up from, only to find herself again in the wooden cage where the unfortunate pile of her own vomit had been left to fester an Awful smell that she stayed as far away as possible from.

Boredom, again. If she couldn’t act out without remembering something terrible from her past, how was she meant to survive until her family rescued her.

Did either of them even know she thought of them as family? Not in the conventional sense of course; Shadow Milk would raise a brow and snarl if she was simultaneously in love with him and saw him as a father figure. No, he wasn’t her father. The Fount, Maybe, but he disappeared not long after she’d lost her real dad.

How had he died again?

Now That was a memory she knew she’d suppressed with the richest, strongest bandages. It was going to take practically reliving it to remember it at all.

So, when the Great Destroyer returned to her cage to open the door and lead her out, her heart leapt into her throat.

It had been three days since her capture, and the Great Destroyer was getting quite impatient indeed.

He brought her back to the arena where they’d first taken her away from Master Shadow Milk cookie.

“I have come to a decision.” He started, sounding commanding as ever, “That you, little cookie, are of no use to me or anybody for that matter if you are kept in a box in wait of your master.”

“Shadow Milk will come back any moment now.”

“Lies, to be expected of his protégés. However, I am not fond of your master, so regardless of whether he is strong enough to rematch me or not, I wish to finish what he started; and if his minions have even half of his strength, I will be satisfied to use you as a substitute.”

Oh. Oh crumbs.

The art of persuasion was one that Shadow Milk Cookie had taught all his followers, for his agenda and for their own protection. Sapphire could spin believable tales all off the top of his head like it was nothing. She was pretty good at insistence, pressure tactics, swaying groups to do what he wanted them to — it was easier than it looked, really, to persuade the mind.

Those foolish heroes were just naive and desperate for solutions. But The Great Destroyer? Unless she could figure out his weak points, it was a net zero she could trick a former virtue not to carry out his plan, especially one who didn’t barter with words.

“Hey, don’t I at least hold value as a trophy of his defeat?” She said, “I mean, not that master Shadow Milk would ever be defeated, but-“ lies lies tell them lies, “If Shadow Milk had escaped with his tail between his legs, wouldn’t it be better to keep me unharmed as a living proof of your win?”

Burning Spice cookie shrugged his shoulders, “Your master might like to keep prizes, but to me, you are just as transient as anything else in this world; you will age, crumble and then there will have been no fun to be had. So tell me, little cookie; what better uses shall I have for you than as my plaything?”

She wracked her brain for any other skill. “War strategist?” No, he didn’t need one of those, he was violence first, strategy later! “No, I can work as a spy. Crumble cities, make them easier to invade by misleading their defenses. I could find anybody, even that cheese lady that took your soul jam!”

To this, Burning Spice raised a brow in acknowledgment. He signaled for some other cookies to approach.

“I value loyalty like any other good leader — and I am not as easy on traitors as your master has been this whole time. What you mistook for mercy was always weakness; you will remember that from now on, as I will take on the mantle of teacher just this once. Paprika Panther cookie, step forward.”

The cookie was smaller than her, definitely couldn’t be older than Candy Apple looked. To outsiders they looked evenly matched.

“Your first mission is to prove your worth through battle.”

Augh, not again! Battles, battles. Did the Great Destroyer really only find entertainment in destruction?

“I want only one survivor. No external help from either side, not that you have access.” Two cookies from the audience threw them both spears, “And if you plan to prove your worth using cheats or escaping, I’ll have your head removed and I’ll eat the apples for my lunch.”

Master Shadow Milk cookie had taught her to use fear against other cookies; find what they’re afraid of and use it to complete the mission if you have to: but now the roles were reversed again, and this prowling panther cookie was looking at her like it was trying to taste her apple hair in their mind.

And, again with knowing her hair was edible… How did Burning Spice know?!

The Panther cookie growled and lunged forward, knocking Candy Apple cookie off her feet.

As soon as her back hit the floor, she blacked out — not that she passed out, just that she lost control of her body and moved on instinct while her mind replayed the scene in gruesome detail.

To try and describe she would need a camera, but all she had was a spear. All she had was her fists.

First it was flashes of them beating her head into the concrete, trying to break her apart. Then it was the reveal of the teacher’s face behind them all, whether that looming authority had tried to end the fight or just watched. She couldn’t remember.

But she knew Burning Spice cookie was watching now.

Summon a different memory, something that doesn’t make you feel so weak.

“Why didn’t you come for me?”

Yes, that’s it, whatever she saw, she clung to it like her hands clung to her spear.

Momentary glimpse of Black Sapphire cookie turning his head to a fire where he dropped the last of a bundle of flowers.

“The Fount is trying to make this a lesson.”

Echoes of her voice in the back of her mind; What was so important for me to learn that you couldn’t teach me?

“That’s what he does these days; he frames suffering as a learning opportunity.”

I wanna stop it! Make it stop!

Oh, Apple, you know I can’t interfere with the natural order.

She screamed out. Injustice, injustice!

“That’s not fair, you’re the Fount!”

Apple dear, That doesn’t change the rules. Please get a grip.

“Rules, Rules, are you and your stupid school all about rules?! You don’t protect anybody like this!”

The anger as she recalled the squabble filled her with adrenaline and she pushed her opponents back, fighting like a wild animal to save herself. Nobody could make her feel so forgotten again. She’d triumph over these stupid bullies if she lost an arm and a leg!

I never intended to allow you to get so hurt. This is all in avoidance of the consequences. There is nothing I can do that will not hurt my image in the process. Under normal circumstances, it might not bother me so much, but so much is already at stake… I can’t lose the favour of the people when they learn the truth. I cannot be responsible for more suffering.

She held onto one thought as she pushed the other cookie down, punching them until she felt wetness on her fingers.

I will make sure you’re responsible.

I will make sure you’re responsible.

I will make sure you’re responsible.

I will make sure you’re responsible.

I will make sure you’re responsible.

I will make sure you’re responsible.

This is all your fucking fault, Fount.

You made me do this.

Revel in the guilt you’re about to feel for what I did under your care.

She had spilled red Jam on the concrete. Someone was being dragged away, but she stayed on the ground.

Soon enough she was dragged to her feet both in reality and her flashback, taken somewhere new and her wounds were tended to. The very same sting underneath her eye, and bruises and scrapes along her arms.

Someone fed her fresh water, and when her breathing had calmed, she looked forward at the wild spice tending to her wounds.

“Is this a medical area?!” First aid in the camp of the Great Destroyer? These cookies must’ve valued their lives more than she first thought.

“Shhh. Don’t sssspeak. I ssssaw the rage in your eyes.” The cobra-like cookie hissed. “It issss a byproducttt of a damaged mind, to go into statesss of frenzy when in danger.” They dipped a cloth in some kind of liquid and wiped her face down. The cooling texture suggested Laffi, but surely no kulfi monkey would ever want to work with the wild spices; unless they were under threat of course. “He will find you very usssseeful. But be careful not to get sswept away. A dessstructive force that cannot be contained isss often eliminated when it isss no longer ussseful.”

Candy Apple nodded and let the snake finish cleaning her off before she was carefully guided by them to the pit where the Great Destroyer sat again in his bonfire. He raised in acknowledgment of her. “You were more proficient than I thought.” Was what he said first, “I was expecting you to crumble on the spot. But it looks like you might be useful after all.”

“As a double agent, right?” She said, legs still unstable from the fight, “No more fighting please.”

“Very well. I will allow you to be a spy for me — but prove yourself lacking in any preformance I demand of you and you will find yourself on the receiving end of yet another fight for your honour, understand?”

“Yes… Sir.” Master? Your majesty? Greatness. Whatever. If he was really so bothered by titles he had bigger things to worry about.

He flicked a hand to dismiss her and she was guided back to her cage. But before then, she saw the result of her wild beating; the panther was leaned on a bed with their face obscured by bandages and another cookie tending to a wound in their shoulder. To think it was all her doing.

Another headache split her brain as the final memory from that day rolled over her.

She was walking out of the school’s medical care wing when she saw the teacher who had loomed over the fight. Somebody was yelling at her. She was pleading her case when whoever was yelling hit her in the jaw, knocking her to the floor.

Candy Apple felt the tears that formed in that teacher’s eyes form in her own. She clutched her cheek with a look of utter betrayal.

Candy Apple was ushered to continue walking. What a tragedy it would be if it got out that not only had a fight started in her school, but that a teacher was punished for allowing it to continue. Or worse yet, a rumour that she encouraged it.

I cannot be responsible for more suffering.

Inaction was still action. If he wouldn’t stop it, someone else would.

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk never sought punishment outright. But hadn’t he heard someone say it seeps into everything he did? No, that was something else. Was he going crazy? Trying to recall the memory was like standing on a pole above the raging tides looking for a fish in the stormy seas. 

Its not right.

He didn’t deserve Pure Vanilla’s feelings — Whatever they were, since he hadn’t heard it for certain. He didn’t deserve it.

Never meant to be this close.

He was meant to be solitary for the rest of his time on earthbread. That’s how this was supposed to go. Silent Salt cookie had cursed his name with that fate before watching the fork descend upon him. It was never a real curse. Silent Salt cookie would have been using fairy magic, and he’d said it instead of singing it, so there wasn’t real weight behind it. It was always more of a final word.

And yet, the ribbon ties had been double knotted, and now Shadow Milk could not help but feel this new weight of danger, for fear of what might happen if he snapped the string and let loose his own feelings. His own feelings? Nonsense! 

Oh, there we go again. Getting tangled in the web of lies we created. You really have a habit of getting into trouble just to prove you can spin your way out, don’t you?

Shadow Milk cookie was face to face with the beast again. Even in his other realm, it was towering over him like a snake about to strike. He was too exhausted to be afraid of its wrath today.

“What.” He demanded. “What do you want! Haven’t I suffered enough tonight?!”

It blew out air through its nose. They both knew what this was about.

“You think I regret what I’ve done? Well, I don’t! I’m not guilty about it. I might have the occasional bodily reaction, but it means nothing! It’s a flaw of this body’s design, all my emotions belong to the chemicals within.”

“You cannot lie to your own reflection.” It said finally. “I am what gives you your deceit. Without me, you would be a shell of yourself. Cultivate your other half, and the cycle will push you back to me, or the other forward. It is not a choice you have. The balance must be kept, without it there would be no separation between You and Him.”

“And I’m doing that! I’m trying to push it away from me! But it’s not working—“

“You are not doing ‘that.’ You are being far too honest in an attempt to gain ill favour with that boy you treasure so dearly.”

“Shut up!”

“And, by extension, you are making yourself look weak, a feeble cookie with flaws that you are secretly ashamed of. That is not what I taught you, former Fount.”

“You didn’t teach me anything! You’re nothing more than a figment of my imagination, some kind of personified shadow-ego that looms over me! So what if I had to let a little Truth slide in order to make way for my schemes? I’m building a foundation here! You just don’t trust my plans anymore, just like you don’t trust the sage.”

The beast snarled like it was grinning. “Oh, siding with the sage now, are we?” It’s voice came out like venom, painting the already dark space pitch black. “I’ll show you why it’s so dangerous to allow strangers to soften your heart. Go on, try and make a living out of it. You’ll soon remember why you took up the mantle of an untouchable beast in the first place.”

Somewhere in the distance, he felt his name being called. 

But… it sounded unfamiliar, like he was being dragged into a world that didn’t belong to him. 

“I’ll be waiting.”

Blueberry Milk? Blueberry Milk!

“For what?” He asked.

The beast faded into the darkness, which was morphing into light beyond his eyelids. You’ll come back to me with an answer, Little Blueberry. 

He heard the echo of a voice filled with the deepest anguish. “Why do you persist?”  

My question to you, Jester; Really, what lies beneath all that exists in the world?

Blueberry Milk cookie, Blueberry Milk cookie!

Blueberry Milk cookie opened his eyes at the disruption to his sleep. Who could possibly be awakening him at this hour of the… morning?

The room before him was brightly lit, so tidy it looked as if it hadn’t ever been used, instead decorated pristinely for picture taking.

Plants and sparkling crystals hung from the ceiling of his canopy bed, reflecting the sunlight and painting spots on the wall. The only mess was the desk of ink pots and parchment beside which an overturned stack of books rested.

What was this? Why did he feel out of place in this room? 

The source of the disruption was nowhere to be seen, so he got out of bed - and felt a newfound appreciation for his dressing gown, which was blue with gold trimming. He’d never think to wear something like this in the spire.

Wait.

What spire?

Believing it was simply some crossover from his last dream, which he hardly remembered at all, he continued to the window and opened it. A bird flapped to stay float after being pushed off the window sill outside.

“Oh, sorry birdie!” He whispered. “I didn’t mean to push you. Come here.” It landed on his outstretched hand then hopped back onto the window sill where it was previously.

The warm air and sunlit streets greeted him enthusiastically. And the cookies below seemed so… chipper. 

Odd, why was this so out of place?

Never mind that. He had students to teach. He threw off his robe and got dressed. He made sure to wash his face, feeling as if something had been on it all night, the consistency of jam. But there was no cracks anywhere on his body, so it must’ve just been an illusion. 

His golden eye sparkled in the sunlight coming through the bathroom window up high. He loved that it did that. It made him want to go outside and talk to someone just to hear them mention it. He could allow himself to have that little thing; he liked praise and validation. The crowds cheering for him. He adored attention. And he loved teaching and preforming. Being up there on a parapet doing absolutely anything, just to hear applause. It didn’t matter what it was, teaching, singing, telling stories. He could be an actor, or a playwright, with how enthusiastic he was.

It was strange to think he Wasn’t an actor or a playwright already. Didn’t he write as a hobby?

He went downstairs to eat his breakfast. The shops had recently restocked and he took advantage; he had a nice breakfast of sausage rolls and eggs, and blueberry juice. 

The birds were landing in his kitchen from the open window and picking at the bird feeder hanging with the herbs in pots. He’d watered them yesterday.

Though, some plants were the thirsty types that needed more than one watering in a day, so he got up to do that after he finished eating.

And finally he was ready to go outside. The streets were still filled with cookies, a lot of which pointed and squealed when they saw him. Some came up and asked for an autograph. He gleefully signed them and gave them a handshake. He wished all that greeted him blessings of good fortune. 

This felt so unlike him, and yet there’d never been a time when he wasn’t like this.

Was there?

Finally he made it to the square, and it was all coming back to him - he had a lesson planned for today. Cookies were already in the square waiting for him to get up on his podium and begin teaching the Truth. This was routine now. He was a scholar and a teacher. He was the Sage of Truth. 

And teach them he did. It was as if he’d shifted into character on a stage, preforming his part like an actor that had practiced a thousands of times before this. By the time the cookies were dismissed, his mouth hurt a little, but thankfully a kind cookie had left a bottle of water with his name on it. How anybody even remembered his name was Blueberry Milk cookie was beyond him.

But… if it had never Not been Blueberry Milk cookie, then why would anyone not know? His memory seemed to haze out - had he ever told anybody his real name? Was he even called Blueberry Milk cookie?

Was he even called Blueberry Milk cookie?

“Eh, sir, sorry to bother you.” A small child tapped his hand. “Can I have your autograph?”

“Oh! Why of course!” He signed their wrist as they requested. “Everyone come get your autographs! I won’t be here forever you know!”

The signing left him strangely exhausted, and soon he returned with the bottle in hand, drinking away at it until he reached home. As he looked at the kitchen in the late noon light, he realized something had to be missing from the room. Something had been taken that was previously there. But what was it? 

The answer should have come easily, for he saw this room every morning and every evening. And yet, it was like he’d only woken up today with half of his memory.

And now, he was hearing something outside. Screaming? 

He took one last gulp of water before rushing outside to see a group of thugs harassing a poor stranger in dark clothing. “Hey now, disturbances to the peace are not allowed.”

One of the thugs, presumably the leader, stepped back from his victim and put his hands on his hips. “Says who?”

“Eh, the law, can’t you read? Oh, this would be a glorious opportunity to educate if you hadn’t already gotten on my bad side!” 

“Pssh!” The leader dismissed him, “boys, keep it coming. I’ll handle this guy.” 

Oh, so he was going to have to fight now! Just another day living in the cookie kingdom…

“You really believe that’s a good idea..?” He readied his key staff, just as the dark stranger reached out a hand for his own staff.

“Silence everyone. This can be settled without more pain being inflicted.”

“You silence!” Said one of the thugs who stomped on his arm, causing the stranger to groan in pain. Oh no, he was not going to let this slide.

“I hope you’re taking notes.” He raised the key staff with both hands and threw out a blast of magic. “This one’s a one time lesson!”

It took hardly any effort for the thugs to be sent running, even that prideful leader. Blueberry Milk cookie could’ve pat himself on the back, but that would break the laws of physics. He wasn’t known for breaking rules of anything.

The stranger finally took his staff and used it like a cane to pull himself to his feet, on which he wobbled. His arm must’ve been fractured from that thug.

“Wait, I must help you—“

“There is no need.” He waved the blue orchid staff and several menacing eyes appeared, and a few snaps and clicks sounded before he again groaned and fell to his knees.

“Oh my!” The Sage of Truth finally found it in him to lend a hand for the stranger to hold. The stranger took it rather reluctantly and kept his head down when thanking his savour.

“It’s nothing really. Part of upholding Truth is making sure nobody gets hurt.”

“But… that’s not right.” Said the stranger.

“What did you say?”

Finally he showed his face to the Sage - long white lashes framed eyes that were devoid of all light, coloured similarly to his own, and beneath those eyes were heavy bags that indicated this cookie hardly got enough rest. His gentle mouth which curved into a frown only served to support this theory. “The very nature of Truth is that it will hurt someone in the end. I think I’ve said so before.”

“You… haven’t.” Blueberry Milk cookie heard a ringing in his ear, something to indicate tension within his mind. He was trying his hardest to place this face. It was familiar, and if he just reached out a hand to touch it, maybe he could…

He brushed a strand out of the way and dragged his fingers lightly along the strangers cheek. The warmth was familiar. Like something he’d lost in the past, a taste of home, the smell of vanilla.

Of vanilla?

“Vanilla…cookie?” He whispered mostly to himself before his heart rate was ba-dumping away so fast that he was overcome by a burning feverish sweat. It didn’t help that everything around him was cold. 

And for a second, everything felt more real. And so much more harsh. He didn’t want to wake up, or fall deeper into this despair, whatever it was. 

Vanilla cookie. 

Something vanilla cookie.

Was he going crazy?

It was a long time in darkness, and yet when he came back to consciousness, he was on the couch and there was a bubbling pot on the stove in the kitchen. And it was as if no time passed at all. The sun was still exactly in the same place in the sky, down to the angles of the shadows. Of course he knew the time from the shadows, math was simply another fraction of his limitless knowledge. 

The stranger’s staff was settled by the fireplace, leaning against the mantlepiece. One of its many eyes was still watching him, and when it noticed him watching, it squinted and closed. Soon enough the stranger stepped out, looked at him briefly and then went to the kitchen to stir the pot and taste test.

“Ahem, excuse me? Did you bring me home?”

The stranger merely nodded and went searching the cabinets for bowls. “Oh, let me help!” He got up a little too fast and heard a concerning and painful crack in his left knee; but when he bent down to check, nothing was there. Must’ve been a trick of the mind. He had just woken up after all. 

He came into the kitchen and fetched two bowls. “Thank you, for bringing me home - but Eh, how did you know where I live?”

“I see you nearly everyday.” The stranger replied. “I’d been following you in the shadows for quite some time.”

A small beat of silence passed. “Ooookay, ignoring how that sounds without context, what… lead you here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve never seen you in town before - or at least, I don’t remember ever laying eyes on you. And yet you seem quite familiar.” He tapped his chin. “Nope! Nothing comes to mind. What’s your name, stranger?”

“It’s…” the stranger hid his face, “Not important.”

“Well, Not Important - oOoOo I hate how that sounds! - it seems as if you know me quite well. Tell me, is it my celebrity status, or does the moody look just not ring any bells for me?”

The stranger took one of the bowls out of his hand. “It won’t make a difference if you remember me or not. I simply came to watch you.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Your lesson. You were talking about something I have… Had a personal connection to.”

“You mean the part about handling sick people at home?”

“Yes.” He didn’t smile, despite how he sounded relieved, “Medicine. I used to study it.”

“Oooo maybe I do remember you! You were there when I sang a ballad about cream sheep too, weren’t you!”

“….!” The stranger’s cheeks pinked. “What does that have to do with medicine?”

“Aw, don’t you remember? Well, in that case, let me take you on a journey through the spreading of disease in baby cream sheep! Something I’m sure you’ll find a-Very interesting.”

“Please do not sing. My ears are sensitive.”

“Now now, sit down, young student!” Blueberry Milk cookie took his own serving of soup and walked cheerfully back to the couch in the other room. “The lesson is starting!”

“I’m not… nevermind.” He followed the sage and sat down across from him. 

“Not taking your own bowl?”

“I’m not hungry.” 

The sage of Truth tilted his head and looked the stranger up and down. “Are you sure? You’re a little frail, aren’t you… oh well, physiques of all kind are welcome to my humble abode. If nothing else, you can finish my soup.” He stood up and crossed the room to pull down a board from seemingly nowhere and unscrewed the cap off a marker. “Ahem, you see, in wild herds of cream sheep that live in fields, dandelions can tend to get stuck in their eyes. These dandelions are not always dangerous, and can be removed easily by a kind passerby, however! Sometimes such small fluff has been tainted by the parasites that suck the nectar out of the flower of the dandelion; before it turns to fluff, anyway.”

“…Do dandelions have nectar?”

“Sure they do! How else would the little pests be able to get their filthy microbes out into the world! And you see, when these tainted pieces of fluff land in the eyes or mouths of the poor baby cream sheep, there is a chance they might get infected with something called-“

He went on to explain how the wool of the cream sheep infected would tend to also cause an allergic reaction in cookies, and how it was not recommended to eat the meat of a cream sheep that has recorded infection in their lifetime unless proper care was taken to ensure all the bacteria within the meat has been thoroughly purged. The bad bacteria, anyway.

“So hoooow do you prevent it? Glad you asked! A special medicinal herb that grows not far from the dandelions themselves! Can you guess what it is, given your own experience in medicine?”

“It’s the stems. If you let them chew on the roots, it contains special anti-biotic properties.”

“Cooorect! Oh, I like you, stranger. You’d make a fine addition to my lectures.”

The stranger looked down at the bowl of soup, and surprisingly took the bowl and spoon and began eating it. “No thanks.”

“Ehehe- what! Why not?”

The stranger shrugged. “I don’t care for that kind of thing anymore. I’ve seen more important things in my lifetime, and now existence simply holds no meaning to me.”

“So you stopped pursuing knowledge?”

“Stopped pursuing Truth.” He corrected. “Knowledge is a vast thing. No one can ever stop learning things. It’s simply that I care not for learning the Truth.”

The sage sat down for a moment to think those words over. “But that sounds so counter intuitive?”

“It.. well, I suppose there’s no way of articulating it. You have to see what I’ve seen in order to understand it.”

Blueberry Milk cookie went into the kitchen and took the other bowl, and returned with it filled. “You intrigue me. Tell me, does the concept of good mean anything to you?”

The stranger shut his eyes. “Not particularly.”

“Then, pray tell, why did you help me?” He asked earnestly. “You could easily have left me on the street.”

The stranger took another spoonful of his soup. It was as if he’d grown bored of the conversation. “You were going to get cold. I couldn’t let that happen to you.” 

“And why not?”

A long silence carried into their mealtime, the stranger taking longer and longer between their spoonfuls. “I suppose… I can see how much you mean to others. If I didn’t help you, someone else would - but there is just as much bad in the world as there is good. It is an equilibrium. I could not bear to infect you with my misfortunes… so I decided to be the hero for once in a while.”

Infect with misfortunes…? 

Then the stranger set the spoon down on a coaster and drank from the bowl as if it was a cup. There was something oddly reverent about the way he looked with the bowl tipped back as if he were drinking a potion of immortality. It must’ve been the furrow of his brow. 

He set the bowl down and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. 

“Oh, I have napkins if you’d prefer-“

“No need.” The stranger stood up and scooted over to his staff once more. The eyes blinked as if welcoming him back. “I do believe I have overstayed my welcome, it is dark outside already.”

“Oh… alright.” The sage stood up once more and walked the stranger to the door. “But before you go… may I know your real name?”

The cookie looked at him and for a moment it was if his entire life had lead up to this very moment - though that might’ve just been his inner dramatic flare, expecting a chilling answer to come.

“I have already told you, I am nobody, and nothing. If you must, call me the Truthless Recluse. Do not expect our paths to cross again so soon. Farewell, Blueberry Milk cookie.”

The sage of Truth nearly asked about how the recluse knew his name, but by the time he found the courage to ask, the faint blue glow of his staff was around the corner, leaving only streetlight.

Chapter Text

He thought he would never see the stranger again. Still, he waited a few minutes after all his lectures, drew out the signings and ate his dinner slowly just in case the Truthless Recluse ever returned to greet him.

He scribbled away in this diary of the days he had, making sure to note the details that differentiated them. He knew if he wrote only the main things he did instead of things he saw or heard, the diary would grow rather repetitive, and monotony was a mind killer. In order to truly learn, there had to be some level of variation to the pattern to prepare you for outliers.

“For you see, students tend to remember the correct information if I occasionally spout incorrect information that they know to be untrue! Through this, Deceit can be used to bring people closer to Truth!” The crowds around him cheered. “Aaaand! You are always free to correct me, remember that, students! Or else you’ll be going home confused, so never be afraid to ask questions. After all, Truth is not simply about the answer, but rather the questions you ask!”

He encouraged his students to correct him as an opportunity to show their own learning. It wasn’t often that he lost debates, but he still enjoyed the conversation, simply because it showed someone’s true willingness to learn when they were put in the position of defending their own understanding of the Truth. The ignorant would show themselves rather quickly, while those truly equipped to face the darker side of Truth would reveal themselves slowly like an orchid blossoming.

And on that note, he happened to see a wisp of dark blue fabric pass him in his peripheral one day, and nearly broke his neck following it as the cookie passed. Unfortunately, the stranger’s clothes were just a trick of the light, and no blonde hair peaked out from their cap. He sighed. He felt like a fool wishing for the stranger to return.

“I see you still haven’t stopped searching for me.” He whipped back around and the Truthless Recluse was a mere distance from where he stood. The sunlight came around a corner to illuminate the Recluse from behind. “Your unwavering commitment should be commended, though it ultimately serves no use.”

The Sage clapped his hands together. “Maybe not to you. But I would say my lessons make people happy, that’s enough of a use if I’m being honest.”

“Happiness.” The Truthless Recluse closed his eyes and the staff’s many eyes opened. “Yes. Those cookies cling to the worldly comforts you offer to them. What they seek is understanding, acknowledgment. It is much like you, Sage.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely.” A rare smirk played on his face, “You like to be liked. Don’t worry, I’m not judging you, I just understand where that will to keep going really comes from; it was much the same for me.”

The Sage stepped towards him, into the light. “What brings you back into this humble town, stranger? I believe you told me we would scarcely cross paths.”

“It was something else that I needed. The peak was out of blueberries.”

The peak of Truth? Blueberry Milk cookie could swear up and down on his soul that there wasn’t any need for food on the peak of Truth, for the light that shone at the top of the tower was bright enough to freeze time itself. Then again, how could he know; he’d descended the peak of Truth ages ago, before it had supposedly been taken over by this new cookie.

“I.. didn’t know you liked blueberries enough to risk coming down here, knowing you might see me again.” He wondered for a moment if this was all some innuendo, but that thought was quickly shut down when a searing pain came over him.

Oh yeah? Miss me too much, Nilly?

Huh?

Don’t deny it; you miss me too sometimes.

The pain subsided and he gasped. What in the name of Truth was that?

The Truthless Recluse stood steady, watching him recover himself. He said nothing. Then he began to leave.

“Wait!” The Sage said, following him into the light. “We’ve only just met, can’t you stay a little while?” He continued this chase through the town, in the view of many cookies. “Please, I have so much to ask you!”

It took an embarrassing amount of begging to get the Truthless Recluse to stay with him, at least for tea.

They sat outside a cafe which the Sage had especially taken a liking to for its blue and yellow flowers. The Truthless Recluse sat and drank in silence. He did not wait for the tea to cool, allowing it to burn his tongue without a flinch.

“So tell me, Recluse, what goes on inside the peak of Truth now that it belongs to you?”

“To say the peak belongs to anybody would be assuming it bows to a master; which is does, only that it is not so obedient. If it were, there would be no purpose to call it the peak of Truth.”

“Truth is unflinching.” The Sage mused, “Isn’t it? They say, Truth can be stretched, twisted, bent; but ultimately these are all masks that Deceit wears to ensnare it’s victims.”

“Deceit takes many forms.” The Recluse muttered, “It is what lies beneath all things, even Truth itself, waiting. It is the tide that will swallow us whole.”

“So do you write poetry or… I don’t know, tend to sheep inside the peak?”

Truthless Recluse stared. “It is not your business, unless you would prefer to see for yourself. Though given your attitude, I don’t believe you would be ready to face what I have.”

There was an odd tingle in his chest, like he was being looked down upon, and he really hated being looked down upon.

Did he?

Odd, he couldn’t remember that facet of his personality. “What makes you think that?” He said after a pause. He raised the teacup to his mouth while he waited for an answer.

“I see your care for this world, the shining hope that you bring to others. You wish to teach them of hope and perseverance, while leaving yourself no room to rest. Self sacrificing, self loathing, permanently trapped in your persona. Deceit will break you, but it will also set you free.” The Recluse mimicked him, drinking his tea in gulps that were concerning in size. “This is not reason for you to do so. Save yourself the anguish, stay blissfully ignorant in your daily life. It might feel monotonous, a gilded cage of sorts. But once you escape you will find that the prison was merely a comforting illusion, one of which you can never return to once it has been shattered.”

The Sage heard him out and put a hand to his chest as a gesture of solidarity. “You must be in so much pain, ‘Clusie.”

“Cl- what?”

“‘Clusie. Your name is too long to write repeatedly, I need a shorthand for when I mention you in my diary tonight.”

‘Clusie’ watched him write down the date in the little notebook he’d brought with him so he could bullet point key moments in his day.

“Oh, sorry. Yes, I already have a system in place to ensure my days don’t drag into monotony. You and I must be on similar tracks of thought if we both struggle with it.”

“I… it is too late for me. Now monotony feels like a treasure I cannot possess. Every day is different, none of it memorisable.”

Blueberry Milk frowned. Maybe he should get a diary too. I’d give the world to have more major variations in the pattern of my life.

“So tell me, Recluse. If there is no hope for you, why do you persist?”

The Recluse turned his head down so the hat cast a shadow over his face.  “It is as you said once. My Truth is protecting others from the cruel reality that lies beneath. Otherwise there is no meaning, no Truth to my existence.”

The Sage refilled both their cups, making sure to add extra sugar to his own. The sun was hardly at the peak in the sky, and yet he felt his time with the Recluse was running out. Oh, how a mysterious cookie could make time feel as if it’s slipping way, those precious golden seconds in which the two of them may know each other. Once the Recluse were to stand, they would say their goodbyes and once again be strangers. The Sage’s heart strings tugged at the thought of that future.

And so, with nothing to lose, he broke the silence with his question. “Why don’t you stay for dinner tonight?”

“Hmm?”

“Well, it’s just that if living no longer holds meaning, there should be no reservations towards doing things you don’t like. After all, suffering is a byproduct of wanting or not wanting things.”

The Recluse was quiet, hearing him out. For a moment, a knowing smile flashed in his eyes before fading just like all other emotions. Sage realised that dinner would not be for a While, so he was essentially asking the Recluse to stay in his company for the whole day. Quite a demand, on second thought. “Of course, if you’d prefer solitude, I won’t force you to spend your energy up keeping a social facade. I just think it might do you some good if you spent some time in the sunlight. It makes no difference, right?”

“Right.”

“Perfect! I still have a lecture planned, so you’ll have to sit in on it, unless you’d prefer to stay at home while I do that? My home I mean, I have plenty of space for you.”

“Slow Down.” Truthless Recluse said, “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Are you suggesting I take residence in your home? That’s… very kind of you. But I’m not sure I can accept it.”

“Oh, Why not?”

Truthless Recluse took up his teacup, “I don’t… sigh, I suppose it doesn’t matter what I believe I deserve, does it? You’ll keep moving, I can only chose to let you drag me along or to follow you willingly. It’s more comfortable to walk a road alongside someone than to be dragged across stone.” He downed half of it before choking on it.

“You alright?”

More coughing.

“Oh, Clusie, maybe you should slow down too.”

He gasped, “I’m sorry. I was going to say, I’d like to give you a chance.” He bent so the hat concealed his eyes and covered his mouth with his hand, likely trying to hold back the last of his coughs. Either that, or he was trying to push away the emotions showing on his face. He looked to be hiding a smile. His shoulder shook as if he were laughing.

“Recluse?” That only made his grin stretch wider, and soon he was outwardly wheezing like a teapot. Maybe it was the gagging, but his eyes seemed to water a bit too much for it to be entirely made of joy.

Blueberry Milk cookie was never one for rejecting his own optimism, but there was not a chance that he’d broken through the Recluse’s emotional walls already. This is all a byproduct of the choking, surely enough…

“Oh my, I’m unfamiliar with this feeling. Nerves towards the unknown are standard, so why does it feel like excitement?” He shook his head and returned his tearful gaze to the Sage. “I apologise, I’m not truly as stable as I’ve been pretending… if my mood swings bother you, just know you’re free to let go of me anytime.”

—

So actually, he was indeed smiling, but those shiny tears were still falling from his eyes after all the coughing, and even after his smile had faded they seemed not to stop. He’d slowed down like he was asked, drinking in silence as he cried.

Blueberry Milk cookie could sense there was a long story behind this phenomenon, but in his radical non-judgmental curiosity he chose to act as if it weren’t happening at all to spare his poor companion the humiliation of having to explain it. The Recluse wasn’t ready to tell, and that would be okay — assuming all went well, he would get his answer one way or another. What had he said before to a student who begged for him to tell the second half of a myth after the class was dismissed…?

I can’t rush the ending of the story, or else it’ll be ruined. You must let the pieces fall into place by themselves or the lesson won’t stick.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked after a long silence. They were still sat at the table, the sun shining down on them once more. “You don’t have to tell me everything. A simple yes or no suffices.”

“It’s not as black and white as that.” The Recluse shuddered, “It’s been a long time since I was able to accurately read my own feelings. What do you think? You place such high value on your own thoughts, after all.”

“Oh, I suppose so. Heh, alright. I think you’re a very complicated person, Recluse. You only continue to deepen my curiosity, I really wish I could keep you for a whole week! Alas, that is not the agreement. So! Shall we get going? Perhaps a walk will allow you to cheer up, the clouds always part after the rain stops.”

“Not always. Sometimes the rain just comes back.”

He took the Recluses hands, dragged him to his feet and went over to the counter to pay for the tea. “Nonsense, my dear. Joy and misery are a cycle, the balance will always even out eventually.”

The Recluse stopped his tears for just long enough to think on it, sigh and straighten up ever so slightly, “That mindset causes a lot more suffering than it’s worth, you know. Some cookies get more suffering than they deserve. Not every feeling is a catapult for another.”

The Sage was overcome with an overwhelming urge to squish him like a cat. Oh, you are SO interesting, Vanilla-scented cookie!

They walked along the streets, and Blueberry Milk had taken his hand to keep him close as they neared the crowded market. “You said you needed blueberries, right?”

“Oh… right. But I suppose now that you’re here, I might as well…” he trailed off and kept walking, dragging the Sage along with him instead, “I know you’re popular, so this might be difficult if you’re being constantly surrounded by fans. Stay quiet, I can handle it. If you talk they’ll notice you.” He held his staff in front of him, and it glowed faintly as the world around them dimmed and blurred at the edges, suddenly the noise was muted too and they pushed through the crowds like they were just strangers hand in hand. Had he put a spell on them to make them both invisible? That must have been how he got around town without being noticed. So then, why had he chosen to show himself today?

Oh, silly me, I already know the answer.

The Recluse was surprisingly warm, his hands a little dry but he could tell with a little moisturiser, they’d be soft as a cream sheep. What? Haha, why would that matter!

They navigated through packs of cookies until they reached the fruit stands and Truthless Recluse looked at the Sage. “Do you mind if I do something very entirely immoral for a moment?”

“Oho, I can’t stop you.” He swayed side to side on the spot. Was his morbid curiosity getting the best of him, or was he so pathetically docile for another reason? Witches Mercy, it’s only been a couple of hours.

The Recluse smirked. He let go of the Sage’s hand and pushed him towards the stall. “Buy them for me. I’ll pay you back the cost.”

He already understood the scheme being played but the surrounding vendors were on his tail before he could turn around a shoot a glare at the Recluse.

“Oh, Sage of Truth…!”

“My my, what are you doing out here?”

“Oh my goodness, I am such a fan of your lectures, Sage!”

“Thank you, thank you,” he said with his scholarly confidence. “Ahem, you won’t mind giving me some of your finest blueberries, would you?”

“Oh my, you want my blueberries, take them! It is such an honour—“

Recluse leaned close to his ear, sounding all too satisfied, “Haggle the price with them. Ask them how much it costs.”

“Well, how much do I owe you?” He smiled, knowing exactly the trick being played, “Really, I’ll pay anything.”

“Oh, no no! I could never charge you. You can have them for free!”

“Yes, take whatever you like, Sage. Your service to the town is great enough as it is!”

“You provide us with knowledge free of price, it’s only fair that we reward you in—“ The shopkeepers continued to insist. The Sage handed a produce bag to the Recluse and allowed him to take whatever amount he needed, and he threw in a few other fruits like strawberries and mango and most importantly peach. Why peach? That’s so random.

Feeling guilt creep up in the margins of his heart, he turned to the vendor closest with a smile. “How about you come to my lecture this evening? Maybe I will call on you to answer my questions.” He winked. The shopkeeper began to scramble on about how that was too much, and he held up a pointed finger to silence her, “Surely you can’t just give away precious stock because the person receiving has high status. Really, if the world worked that way, which it does, this would be a daylight robbery, which it is! Especially considering—“

“Got what I needed, let’s move on.” Recluse pulled him away, but Sage still waved and said he’d remember her for the evening.

They walked along the paths, once again invisible to the open eye. “My Dear Recluse! How naughty of you to use my celebrity status for your own gain!”

“Yes, I took a bit more than I was planning…Hope you’re not feeling too heavy about it.” He smiled, and then frowned, “I mean, if you really want to go back and pay for it, you can. Only that I can’t pay you back because…. I don’t have money.”

“Haha, how were you planning to obtain anything in here if you didn’t bring coin?”

“Ehem…” He lowered his hat, “I’d have my ways. Anyway, now that I know it works, there’s a couple other places I’d like to stop off.” He nodded for them to take a side street shortcut to another part of the market. “If you don’t mind that of course… I can go another day so you won’t have to be a witness if it bothers you.”

The Sage could only summon up amusement for how repugnant this was. “You’re planning to use me again?”

“Yes,” he said simply, “No objections? Good, I hope you’ve got space in that notepad, you’ll be doing a lot of crowd work in your lecture today.” Oh, this Recluse was so funny, he could hardly be upset at being taken advantage of like this— Hang on. He was being taken advantage of, and very obediently at that.

Pfftt. Hahaha. Oh. Why was that kind of attractive?

Functionally there was no need for such emotions in the cookie world, that certainly didn’t stop the tumble in his stomach as the Recluse eyed his expression for any signs of reluctance. “Again, I’ll accept being indebted to you if not. I don’t mind, you seem benevolent enough on the surface to want to make this a fair trade.”

“Oh, of course.” He wasn’t even registering the ground anymore, “It’s okay, I’m merely complacent in your little crimes.” Wait, no! He was meant to be the one Upholding law and order. “I’ll punish you later, maybe I’ll make the dinner spicy.” Phew, close one.

“Sure. Your face is bright purple, I hope you’re aware of that.”

He raised both his hands to his face, taking one of the Recluse’s hands with him. “Goodness gracious, I must be coming down with a fever of some kind.”

The Recluse stopped before they returned to the main path and let go of his hand just to run a thumb along his scorching cheek. “I warned you, Little Blueberry. Infected with my misfortunes.”

The rest of their little trip around the market was not even a smidgen as weird as that little moment on the side street. The Sage was nearly convinced he was just imagining it having ever happened at all, since the Recluse returned to his dismissive and downcast personality aside from when he spoke to guide Blueberry Milk to some new vendor.

Out of the goodness of his heart, he’d offered to carry some of the stuff, and the Recluse let him. Eventually they wound up being at home again with the bags laying beside the table. Technically, he was meant to be heading to his lecture by now, but walking around had tired him out so he ragdolled onto the couch and the Recluse sat across from him. He didn’t really mind wether the Recluse made himself comfortable or not, as they wouldn’t be staying long anyhow. This was just a moment to breath before facing the crowd worth of cookies who he had promised many acknowledgements to.

“You seem opposed to getting off that couch.”

He sighed and kicked his feet in the air, “Thank you for your extraordinarily thoughtful observation, Clusie. I’d almost give you a gold star for it.”

The Recluse smiled. “Something’s gotten into you, Sage. Is that fever reaching your head?”

“Sigh! I am a Sage. But I’m also a playwright, poet, actor, you name it! The Truth is very versatile, you know.” He sank deeper into the couch, “And alas, I do not hold infinite stamina. Clusie, you know where my kettle is, don’t you?”

“You can cancel the lesson, if you are so exhausted. I would even kindly suggest it that you do. Your exhaustion will give way to sorrow. You and I both know it is only a matter of time before you too fall into despair like I do. And if not you, then your subjects and followers.”

“Mhmm, playing that game again, are we?” He turned on his side and propped himself up on an elbow, “I’m not afraid of what will happen to them — That’s your job. I only wish to encourage this world to grow its knowledge. Maybe you should set up a series of trials on the peak of Truth, that way you know how to distinguish those who can handle it from those that cannot.”

Truthless Recluse wasn’t keen on the idea from the furrowed brow and the shadow over his face. “I couldn’t handle it. Why else would you think I am so desperate to ensure nobody suffers the way I do? Either you are naive, or you are far more malicious than your reputation entails.”

The ringing in his ears began to get louder again, splitting him with a headache. He dropped his head back onto the cushion and shut his eyes, trying not to let it show on his face. Suppressing it will only make it hurt more. You know this as well as I do.

“I’m…” he sighed. “Oh, you understand that there is no Truth to this world. So why do I bother to lead cookies forward? Because I find there is endless fascination in this world despite all its cruelty. You should know, Recluse, the pain of loss. We all face it, even we who think we hold no connections.” He sprang up with a smile, “You might be called the Truthless Recluse, but I’m sure you hold attachments to all sorts of things; for instance, those shopping bags. Be a shame to lose them. But you’ll have to take the risk going home tonight, or else they’ll stay here forever — and stagnancy begets decay. What do you think of that, hmm?”

“Hm.” He nodded, “earlier today you said Truth was unflinching. And yet you have changed your mind on that subject, now claiming it doesn’t exist.”

The Sage shrugged, “It’s not the final goal that defines Truth, but rather the journey, that’s why I always encourage my students to keep asking questions. As I said, stagnancy is the enemy to growth, and in order to grow you must face hardship. That is why I don’t sugarcoat the Truth, Clusie. They will either grow or they will stagnate. It’s not up to me, all you’re doing is keeping them from that final step.” Then he reconsidered. “I suppose, in that way, you extend their journey by keeping them curious, don’t you?” He snapped his fingers and stood up with a newfound conviction, “There it is! The defining quality that deems you my equal. Recluse, I do understand your title, but would you mind helping me with my lesson today?”

Maybe his charms had not been lost on the Recluse after all, as it took far less convincing now than it did this morning. Today, his lesson took the shape of a magician’s demonstration, some simple physics regarding heat and temperature. The Recluse helped to heat and cool the beakers using his magic, as well as heal any burns on the volunteers that came up to try the experiments themselves.

Surprisingly, he worked incredibly well with children, albeit a bit blunt when they questioned him. One asked how he’d learned to harness fire magic, since it was so rare to know how to control the elements, only the legendary cookies could do such.

He told them a story of a pilgrimage to the lands of ice instead. Seeing as fire was merely heat, and heat was an energy, it could be harnessed without the same kind of tricks that ice magic would. Cold was a lack of heat, therefore in order to cool the beakers, he would have to suck the heat energy out. He essentially explained in more fantastical terms, the way a refrigerator worked.

Ahem, but that isn’t the important bit, is it? No, no! The dinner is what we’re all here for!

The Sage would’ve enthusiastically gone on about how good the Recluse was today, and he’d tried but his energy batteries had given out mid-ramble, and so he sighed and the Recluse dragged him back to his home in silence. They sat intertwined in the couch until the sun had long since gone down. He’d given the Sage enough space to climb away whenever he was ready to get up again, but otherwise he’d practically fallen asleep resting himself on the Sage’s shoulder.

“Woah.” Blueberry Milk whispered in amazement, “The Recluse himself, asleep on my couches, I’d wager such a sight rarer than a flying cake hound.”

He slipped out from the Recluses gentle hold of him, and went to his kitchen to find the Recluse had already set out a few ingredients, and a note that said, “Since I’m your guest, I hope you don’t mind that I wanted to pick my dinner, as I also hope you don’t mind that half of these ingredients weren’t payed for. Kind regards,” a heart was drawn upright, a V and a sideways three. What impeccably neat handwriting.

He giggled to himself, another sparkle of fondness moving through him.

He made the obviously requested Candy Pasta. The Recluse woke up to the bubbling of the sauce on the stove. He stayed put through the whole remaining process, and moved to the dining table when just waiting in the living room became too awkward. He sat and watched Blueberry Milk serve him his plate with a placid expression.

And then, they ate. Not a single word was said through the whole ordeal, but occasionally a fork would scrape a plate in that particular fashion that made one’s nerves perk.

The Recluse had chosen not to turn on the lights, instead taking interest in the candelabra on the table and having lit all its candles instead. Surely, it was because he preferred the darkness to any bright shiny lights just after having awoken, but now it provided a sort of mood to the scene that Blueberry Milk found impossible to ignore. All it was missing was soft bossa nova in the background. Sometimes Blueberry Milk would turn his eyes up to see if they would catch eyes. It was a dangerous game, tempting the silence like this.

The Recluse never caught him, but he knew from a sixth sense that he was playing the same game, stealing glances while he twisted the fork in his pasta. For such a fast drinker, he sure was taking his time with the food. Perhaps he knew was aware how close the ending had come, the impending finale in their act together.

His eyes unfocused as he imagined the scene of their goodbye — loaded with unspoken words, a few wishes of good tidings and if he were a lucky man, a lingering trace of fingers upon his cheek. Something simple as a flower left on his doorstep the next morning as a thank you, the only reminder of his dear companion for a very long time.

Returning to the present moment, his eyes found the Recluse’s face, and he could not force himself to tear them away. Slightly mused fringe, round cheeks, holding his fork with fingers meant for playing violins. If only he’d brought some kind of pen and paper to the dinner table to sketch his likeness, so he might not forget the details in the time between now and their next encounter. It could be weeks, years if the Recluse was insistent.

But every bit of him fought not to speak, despite the building of words in his mouth that burned so much for freedom from their master; his mind. Someone needed to push through his crowded thoughts and assign from order to them, else the chaos would implode upon him.

“Sage.”

He blinked and it was all he needed; the thoughts quieted to a pin drop, and with it came an unnerving stillness which gave way to a mortified silence. Recluse had a satisfied smirk on his face, looking as if he’d won; or more particularly, he looked as if he were silently amused about Blueberry Milk having Lost. “Go on, you’ve earned it now: what is it?”

“What’s what?”

“The question.” He said, acting as if he were reading from a script, “I’ve finished my pasta, and it’s so, so late out. Shall I..?”

Get going?

“Oh, no no! Really, it’s um… you can take seconds?”

The Recluse put a hand on his bowl and pushed up, “Such a charming fellow you are, I think I will!” He took a deliberately extended route just so he could walk past Blueberry Milk’s seat and lean over him, “But you know that’s not what I meant, little blueberry.”

Was shrivelling up in humiliation meant to feel good?

He watched Recluse take his second portion and sit back down, and now their game was over, the air shifted again: the Recluse’s eyes stayed on him, sizing him up like a serpent.

Sage understood he was expected to break the silence. “So. I take it you’re not staying the night, Recluse.”

He crossed his legs under the table. “No, unless that’s what you’re implying I should do?”

Blueberry Milk tapped his chin and shifted his head side to side. “…I won’t force you.”

“Mh. Tsk tsk. Thats too bad.” He put the fork in his mouth, “I pegged you as the persuasive kind, Blueberry Milk.”

Oh, so he Wanted to be convinced to stay? How…forward. There was much more to this Recluse than he suspected.

“If that’s what you want… I have a guest bedroom, if you don’t want to take my couch. Though I understand that it’s quite comfortable, from the rare sight of you being completely off guard.”

He tapped his fingers on the table. Interesting, his nails were bitten shorter than the skin. “Must’ve been the weight. Are your duvets heavy?”

Um, “They can be.”

He thought the Recluse was going to drop the ball and tell him he was planning to go as soon as he was finished the second portion, and yet after he’d swallowed another fork full, he leaned his face against his palm and smiled with his teeth; long fangs and teeth stained with Candy pasta sauce.

“I’d love that.”

Chapter Text

The pair finished their second portions in a new sort of silence, buzzing with anticipation for when they’d put their plates in the sink and go upstairs to the guest bedroom where the Recluse would be sleeping. He decided, in his own exhaustion, that he didn’t want to bother checking if he’d cleaned or dusted the spare room and lead the Recluse right into his own bedroom. He left him there to get comfy while he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and undress. Ah, fluffy dressing gown, how I missed you!

When he returned to the Recluse, it seemed he’d also undressed, because he was getting comfortable under the duvet, his clothes folded neatly on the end of the bed, right around his feet.

Blueberry milk crawled under the sheets and the Recluse hesitantly pulled him closer to bury his face in the Sage’s dressing gown.

The Recluse’s heartbeat was skittering and unsteady, but the weight of the Sage seemed to be calming him down, as it settled the closer he got. No doubt he too was as nervous as the Sage, as sharing a bed was not exactly “acquaintance behaviour.” In the span of only a day they had already crossed so many milestones in… oops, were they courting each other?

“Hey, Recluse. I have a question.” He said when he found the courage. “Why did you agree to everything today?”

The Recluse remained silent for a few moments. “The simple answer is that I wanted to.” Those words hung in the air between them, and Blueberry Milk knew he just had to poke further.

“Yes but, you never seemed the type to pursue what you desire. You were, as a matter of fact, insistent that what you wanted didn’t matter.”

“No, I said it didn’t matter what I believed I deserved. I can want things and not deserve them.”

“And what about now?” He said, “Do you think you deserve this?”

The Recluse sighed, “No, of course not. But you haven’t stopped me. It doesn’t take much guesswork to puzzle how you desired this too. And going by your logic, there is no point in denying oneself of their desires if they pose no consequence.”

Well, right on both accounts. But was this going to be followed up by more, or was this the height of their strange behavior? 

Gosh Sage, get it together! You know how childish it is, having all these what-ifs in your head like some teenager with a crush.

“Recluse, I have another question.” He waited for the Recluse to hum before asking, “What’s your real name?”

The Recluse let out an amused scoff. “You’re never going to stop asking, are you?”

“You owe it to me by now.” He shifted so more of their dough was in contact, “At this rate, I’ll know your flavour by taste before I learn it by name.” 

The Recluse rubbed gentle circles into his back. “Be my guest. I’m more surprised you haven’t tried to guess yet; I regret to inform you I am not that unique, and my smell is all you really need as a hint.”

“I know it’s vanilla. But there has to be more to it,” He reached his hand up to trail it through the Recluse’s hair. “There’s another thing to it, I know it.”

The Recluse rubbed his head against the Sage’s chin. “No. There isn’t. My main ingredient is Pure Vanilla Extract. That’s it, really. But in case I haven’t made it clear, I am far too tainted by despair for a name such as Pure Vanilla cookie. But just being Vanilla cookie is too unassuming, isn’t it? The mystery isn’t satisfying, and you know it. I long since left behind my old identity, so being simply the Truthless Recluse feels more… Satisfying.”

…

Pure Vanilla cookie.

…

…Yes. That’s it. Pure Vanilla Cookie.

Familiarity washed over the Sage, an understanding that granted him a new feeling of weight on the plush duvet. He was getting realer, more tangible. Everything in the darkness was becoming more clear cut.

“That’s alright. I won’t tell.” The Sage whispered. “As long as you don’t disappear from me in the morning.”

The Recluse hummed. “Are you afraid of that possibility?”

“It’s something I… I feel is going to happen. Strange, isn’t it? How I’ve come to expect you not to be there when I most want you to be. Where would a feeling like that even come from?”

The Recluse didn’t respond for a long time. His next move was signaled by a release of breath. “I’d know. It is a long, winding road of disappointment that forms such an intuitive sixth sense. Forged from caution to protect the heart, but… that sense shouldn’t belong to you, who has not suffered loss like me. So why, indeed, are you afraid of me leaving you?”

The Sage found no answer. Blueberry milk found no answer. Indeed, what was it?

“I know the answer.” The Recluse said, as if reading his mind, “What is caution if not fear? — Funny, it’s like you’ve become intertwined with it, so inseparable from your own past that it follows you even into another dimension.”

“What?”

“No, you don’t have to worry about it, just listen. It all leads to one road anyway.” The Recluse raised himself to lean over the Sage. His lightless gaze remained fixed on the Sage’s face, and his fingers traced a circle around one particular spot on his neck, “You’re Missing something, aren’t you?”

“Clusie, I don’t know what you’re talking about-“ The Recluse pressed the finger to his lips.

“Shhhh. Go back to sleep, Little Blueberry. And as for you,” He turned his eyes up to stare at the Sage eye to eye, “I know what you are. I can tell you appreciate this world. But you can’t live in denial forever: The Truth will catch up to you. And when it does, I’ll be there. Waiting, waiting for your answer.”

“What answer?”

The Recluse grinned, full of promises and sharpened teeth. “You’ll know what I mean soon enough, Shadow Milk Cookie.”

When he came to, Shadow Milk cookie was not in the Dark Cacao kingdom. He was in a mess hall, which he recognised as a servant’s dining room. But of what castle?

It didn’t take long to figure it out. Really, the yellow and white colour scheme pervaded the whole kingdom like a horror movie set in broad daylight. He, with his upper body draped over an empty table, felt anything but elegant. He couldn’t feel the eyes in his hair perk up, so he must’ve hidden them away, meaning he was in disguise. He rubbed his two remaining eyes and checked his hands. Matching white bishop sleeves, made of deceptively soft fabric. The skirt was also a horrendous shade of cream white, and he wore an apron with chocolate brown edges. A belt of what he surmised to be cleaning substances in vials hung at his hip.

Not only had his body moved against his will AGAIN, but he’d disguised himself as a cleaning servant? Of all the jobs he could pretend to put up with.

Sigh. Okay, it’s fine, He tried to remind himself, we’ve only been asleep for a day or two. What could I possibly achieve in that time?

When he disappeared into the walls of the Vanilla Kingdom to scout for details out of place, he could already see the beginnings of plans. But without his conscious mind’s intelligence, really the tricks were far too obvious — those weren’t just cleaning substances, they were also combustibles. And he’d left bottles of it everywhere. Some in plain sight, some under pillows. Someone with a little brainpower would obviously want to keep those away from regular rooms, in case they catch fire.

Which nobody except for another cleaning servant would think to do, by the way.

Urgh. Shut it, soul jam! 

Next he moved onto scanning the staff for any suspicious activity. He mostly distinguished the staff by their vanillian uniforms or the fact they looked like peasantry. Had Pure Vanilla really still allowed that one cookie to keep a paper bag over his face. Pfft. Okay, charming, but wholly unprofessional. Proof of this kingdom’s inferiority!

But nothing suspicious, not a single aura of magic. So then, was there more in the town?

No. Wait. He wouldn’t go THAT far from his other half’s soul jam in a sleepwalk state, right?

I think there’s something you’re ignoring, another voice taunted in his head. Nobody knows we planted explosives in the castle. Not even Pure Vanilla cookie.

Okay, so…

Where was Pure Vanilla cookie, anyway? He’d practically scanned the whole castle for the little gnat as soon as he’d figured out the bit about the cleaning fluids everywhere.  Hang on, he was literally dressed as a servant! Revealing himself in an empty corridor, he walked until he could find another face in the castle, which he quickly went about asking for Pure Vanillas whereabouts. 

The servant stammered some things about being in the hall of audiences. The grand meeting room with all the stained glass windows. Urgh, of course! Political conferences, his worst enemy. Didn’t I tell a story about having set a city to ruin out of boredom?! 

Well, if there was anywhere he wanted to reuse story beats, it was here. 

After thanking the servant he turned a corner into a room where he could sink back into shadows. 

And then he went searching. The whole palace was far too big for just one cookie to live in it. No doubt he lets his servants stay in these fancy rooms. He’s probably going to offer me a room in this castle eventually too. No way, only if I get to decorate it in a colour pallet that doesn’t resemble puss!

The stained glass windows attacked his vision as soon as he found the room. In the heart of the castle, right where it had been before. A gigantic table was spread out across the length of the room, and several generals and officers sat or stood along it, with Pure Vanilla at the head. Shadow Milk stayed in the rafters to eavesdrop, but from here he could see his other half was hunched, eyes fighting to stay open. His head rested against his palm, and as the conversation continued, he shut his eyes and sat back. He’d always had the luxury of pretending to be awake while his eyes were closed; he was blind, or least partially so. With his orchid staff, he didn’t need his eyes to see, so why had his eyes been open all this time? 

“But we can’t allow this to happen again.” Said an officer, “Tighter security must be put in place.”

“Agreed. If you allow just anybody into your kingdom, who knows how long it will take before the entire thing is burnt to a crisp.”

“They won’t.” Pure Vanilla said quietly, “It’s inevitable that they will come back, but if we close off our borders to all, we run the risk of the damage being sent elsewhere because there is no salvation in our walls.”

“There will be no salvation if your kingdom is destroyed!” 

“Pure Vanilla Cookie, you don’t understand the gravity of this situation!” The officer said, “This is unprecedented — a Beast cookie, spotted in your kingdom! Not just that, but possible damages to be done across the whole kingdom! Who knows when the timer will go off? If we are to stop it, we must act immediately.”

“And I do not fault you for being worried,” Pure Vanilla Cookie amended, “Measures should, and will be implemented for the time where I’m not there, but closing off the entire kingdom just opens up to another threat; the threat of forces inside.”

Wait— a Beast? Shadow Milk cookie cursed himself. Had they discovered him asleep in the castle or something? Or, had he done what he thought improbable and hurt the town?

“If the Beast of Destruction managed to make it into the kingdom momentarily, there must be another on the inside, allowing him entry — though I did not see him enter, I would know the magic capable of transporting a Beast cross-continent.” The puzzle pieces were falling into place in a sickening display of the past 24 hours. “You said he, or perhaps his minions, disappeared without a trace after only a few corners turned. This could only mean they have a cookie with the ability to create gaps in space that transport them across long distances. I have…” Pure Vanilla cookie hooked a finger under his chin, “I have studied this type of magic before. I have met cookies with this ability in my travels across Beast yeast too—“ 

“So you’re saying it was someone from the inside who let them enter the kingdom??” A governess screamed, “Why, Traitors! Order a search for the miscreants!” 

Pure Vanilla held his hand face down. “Now, now. There is time for other suggestions.”

“Not if we can help it! The traitors and the Beasts could still be lurking.” Another cookie said, one with a large hat and monocle. “Hell, there could be spies watching us this very moment! Our every move!”

Heh. Not wrong about that. Shadow Milk decided to be ominous and caw like a bird from the rafters. There were plenty of birds up here. It caught multiple cookies’ attention. Pure Vanilla interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them. “Well, if I had permission to lay out my suspicions, I could narrow it down a bit.”

Shadow Milk, emerging from the shadows as yet another crow, narrowed his eyes and flapped his wings. Standard bird behavior, but also a warning. The other crows among him were pecking away at their feathers or tilting their head down at the officers.

“Why are there so many birds up there?” Someone finally dared to ask.

“You’re right.” Pure Vanilla drawled, then yawned. “She only needs one. Guess my chief of intelligence was getting unnerved with the amount of cookies in the room — wanted to make sure there were enough eyes for All the little details. Isn’t that right?” He stared up at the birds and one of them — not Shadow Milk — cawed in response.

“Well. I conclude that we must keep the kingdom open until further notice. Keep news of this invasion private, send out a survey to all the sorcerers in this kingdom relating to their knowledge and abilities regarding magical gateways and portal spells. We will find out how this has happened. We reconvene in half an hour, everyone is free to walk.”

*

Shadow Milk followed him around in the shadows after he left the meeting hall, all the way into his garden where he tended to the flowers, trimmed some of the leaves and watered them. He sang to the birds, disregarding the risk of onlookers. Really, his voice was its own instrument — warm, soothing, full of feeling. As he walked around on the grass, he lost himself in the song and kept tending to the flowers as if he weren’t even thinking of the lyrics anymore - the words just came so naturally to his lips. 

Shadow Milk sat perched on the fountain waiting for him to notice. At some point, maybe the beginning of the third song, he pushed himself off the fountain and reformed as the Servant Girl. 

She nervously scuffled up to him mid-chorus and waited for him to finish belting before she tapped his shoulder. 

“Oh! Hello madam. You were my new cleaning girl.” He blinked and took in her appearance, “Well, how can I help you?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear your singing… and the meeting, I was passing by—“ she put on a facade of innocent guilt, “My deepest apologies, it was an accident I promise! But… what was it about? The kingdom isn’t in danger, is it?”

He hid the discontent creeping into his expression with a tight smile, “Oh, that isn’t anything you need to worry about. We will have it under control before you know it! Or at least, figure out a solution. But it’s nothing to lose sleep about.”

“Hm. You seem to be losing sleep about it.” He said, rather without thinking. The twitch in Pure Vanilla’s brow was nearly imperceptible — only that Shadow Milk cookie was too intelligent a being to miss it. 

“That… was from another time. You must forgive me, I’ve had a busy few days, no time to rest… eh, if you could spare the effort, do put in a request to the kitchen for my lunch. Jellybean stew is all I ask.”

Weird. He used to avoid food before awakening. Alas, Shadow Milk wasn’t complaining, as he still remembered the bit about Pure Vanilla’s “paranoia” acting up. Sounded a bit like symptoms of an Anxiety disorder, in fact. Cookies tend to think less clearly when their body is preoccupied with survival. Anxiety disorders were, as a general rule, an overdose of that instinct present in unthreatening situations. The Vanilla Kingdom being so unnervingly peaceful would certainly aid in the buildup of those chemicals with nowhere to go. Geez, maybe he should get an exercise hobby. Play sports.

Ah, who am I kidding, we’re both too physically weak to keep up running as a hobby. And my leg is still sore.

That he could stay upright, on the ground, in heels should’ve won him applause.

Realizing he’d been staring too long into the middle distance, she put on a little smile and nodded a bit too hard. “Uh-huh. Yes your majesty! On it, right away— Oh, dear.”

A new group of politicians chatted from the path to the castle, clearly lost in their discussions. Servant Girl herself was safe, but inevitably they were going to pull Pure Vanilla into the fray of their debates if he didn’t hide away soon.

“Say, I’ve always wanted to know—“ Servant Girl stumbled through the words like she was saying them half-aware, “—Are you a good dancer? It’s been rumored that you used to attend Hollyberry celebrations all the time in your youth, so you must’ve danced quite a lot!”

Pure Vanilla’s gaze tracked hers over to the cookies approaching and then back. “Do you know how to dance?”

Shadow Milk was cursing himself already. “No.” She lied, “Can you show me how?”

The smile Pure Vanilla wore as he stepped closer and offered his hand wasn’t a knowing one — too soft, too polite, not a single hint of anything to insinuate he knew what she was doing, despite the obvious stench of Deceit. She took his hand and he rested his other hand on her waist somewhere. The proximity tore her open. Their soul jams should’ve been screaming at each other by now.

The soul jams.

Wait. Where is my soul jam?

“Well my dear, it goes like this. You step out with your right foot—“

“I lied!” She said, mostly to prevent a useless waste of the twenty odd minutes he had left, “I just… wanted to…”

His eyes narrowed, but not in a glare. He was appraising her. “Silly girl. Alas, those politicians won’t walk fast enough. Shall we dance anyway?”

What? 

Seriously, What? 

“If you wouldn’t mind the time it’ll waste.” Her own voice was sickeningly soft, affectionate even. Oh, wonderful. His body was disobeying him again. “I would love to.”

Pure Vanilla started off easy, swaying her to a melody which he hummed out. One spin, and back into his arms.

She let him lead, despite the indignant pulses growing inside the Beast whose body she inhabited. It was all an act. All another character. And yet, he could not help but notice how little he resisted, like a veil over his true self that would shatter if he touched it.

So he let it go on, watching through her eyes as they danced, another spin around and Pure Vanilla got daring — dipped her, pulled her back up, and they pressed chest to chest as they turned and twisted. Ooo, was he tangoing?A little scandalous for someone who seemed far more fond of waltzing. Yet again, Pure Vanilla was never as innocent or pure as he let on — he just kept all of that stuff under wraps. Just like everything else about him, huh!

“Tell me, how did you join my staff?” he said after turning her around to traced a hand up her sleeve, and then spin her to face him, “I recall you cleaned the guest bedrooms quite diligently. But I can’t recall ever hiring you.”

“I was like the others,” she said, taking his hand and letting him pull her along. They were dancing around the fountain, and the politicians had long since passed. “Joined when it was needed. I’m sorry, I’m awful shy, so I stayed in the shadows, so to speak.” She pretended to misstep and bump her hip into him while she was turning, “But recent events have made me braver. Your return to the Vanilla Kingdom inspired me.”

“Oh really?”

“Let’s put it this way;” She tilted her head back as she was lowered into another dip, more slowly, “I was too scared to emerge at first, because I often feel I don’t belong,” he pulled her up and she turned to get out of his hold, sidestepping until she was behind him, “Your kingdom gave me a place to stay when I was unsure of what to do.” She was at his side now, offering her hand. 

He smiled and took it, and pulled her close once again. “I’m glad you feel safe in my kingdom, my dear.” 

“Very.”

Strange, with the soul jam so far out of reach, likely still in the castle, he couldn’t hear his thoughts taunt him. He could, however feel those indignant pulses having softened into something sparkly, compelling. So maybe, it wasn’t his body disobeying him — he was simply acting without thinking, which had lead him back to Pure Vanilla, whose hands were no less soft than they had been two nights ago. 

They spun round and round, as if the music was building to a crescendo. Regardless of whether he knew or not, why was Pure Vanilla dancing with a stranger anyhow? Practice was simply too simple for him. 

Or maybe, my mind is too complicated. That sappy little fool would probably dance with a creme wolf if it could stand on two legs.

And as for the plans Shadow Milk had set up, those explosives were, all in all, not too shabby of a secret. That little voice was right — nobody knew except for him. But then, why?

With the news of Burning spice cookie making a comeback, to the Vanilla Kingdom no less, was he preparing for the oncoming destruction in his sleep? Had those combustibles been placed with said awareness, or was it a different plan—

And most importantly, if he was still in control now… who was controlling him before he woke up?

Pure Vanilla spun her one last time before ending their dance in a dip, allowing the moment to sink in before he pulled her back up and kissed her hand. “Thank you for the distraction, my lady. I do believe I have to go back inside now. Finish some papers before the meeting starts up.”

She let him walk away. Maybe she should have join him, since he had ordered her to send word to the kitchen of his impending hunger… but instead the disguise sank off, and Shadow Milk cookie watched him saunter back up the path to the castle. 

He waited for his heart to stop pounding so hard before searching for those politicians; As tingly as his hands felt, he needed answers! 

*

Well, being an old man certainly had its drawbacks: namely, the awful soggy feel to his dough. But the benefit is that he fitted right in, and pretty soon he caught up completely on what was happening — no, the cleaning fluid had nothing to do with the Beast’s appearance, and nobody had even noticed he wasn’t a servant or a politician. Witches mercy, were they even ready to take on the looming threats?!

Pure Vanilla certainly looked it when he found the Saint in his study, watering some new kind of fern Shadow Milk had yet to discover. Purple leaves and iridescent stem. At first, he suspected it a gift from White Lily. But, if it came from the Silver kingdom, it can’t have been as old as it was.

So maybe, this was a crossbred experiment sent from somewhere else entirely. 

“Selaginella uncinata, found in the depths of the Bluberry Yogurt Academy, it hails right from the Silver Kingdom. Someone had abandoned it in the greenhouse. I, having taken an interest in Botany following my separation from the path of cookie creation, decided to try mixing it with the common Dark Cacao lace fern, and this was the resulting offspring.” He explained, “The climate in this room was perfect for both its needs — it just requires a lot of watering across the week.” He knelt down to trace a crumpled leaf with his index finger. “I have wondered if the rot is seasonal.”

“You’re using the wrong soil.”

“Am I? How would you—“ He flinched and stared at his intruder; Shadow Milk Cookie, who had yet to put in the request for his soup. “Ah, good afternoon? I was under the impression you’d be stuck in the hospital for a few more hours.”

“Uh-huh. And I was under the impression you were less inclined to deceit. Go on, why didn’t you just say you thought I let Burning Spice cookie into your kingdom? Was a survey really necessary…”

Pure Vanilla raised himself using the edge of the desk and rubbed his eyes. “No, I know only you and I are capable of such things… and yet, I had this intuitive feeling that it wasn’t you. For one, there’s no way you would’ve made up so quickly in my absence, especially taking into account the situations of your servants. Your injuries haven’t healed, from the looks of your eh… your leg is more cracked than I remember. But moving swiftly ahead, you simply have no reason to destroy my kingdom so soon. I know of your trickery, and to bring another Beast with my defenses still at their regular level would be… it’s an insult to your craft.”

Shadow Milk couldn’t help the flutter that went through his heart at the mounting praise Pure Vanilla was giving him. He ran a hand through his fringe and lowered himself to the ground, just enough to look as if he were balancing on tiptoe. “You little charmer, what do you want, huh?” Pure Vanilla raised a brow. Shadow Milk went on,“You know I like flattery, don’t you? Heh. If it’s answers you want, It wasn’t me — or at least I wasn’t awake when it happened? Whatever. Tell me, was the timing just right or was there just so coincidentally thirty government officials in your kingdom for a spring holiday?”

“We were meant to convene on something else… likely it would cover what to do with the kingdom whilst I’m away for the weekend, in case a Beast shows up.” He rubbed his eyes again and feigned surprise when they landed on Shadow Milk cookie again, “Oh bothers! A Beast! Welp, it’s a sure shame that those wonderful people walking back into the meeting hall were too preoccupied with convincing me to close off my kingdom to come up with any real measures against threats such as you.”

“Aww is that right? No defense against my ultimate powers of mind control and illusions?!”

“Nor the deceptively pretty forms you can take.” He reached out to trace a tiny scratch along Shadow Milk’s cheek, “As I recall, you were meant to be putting in an order for Jellybean Stew. Ah, it’s alright, I’ll do it before I return to the meeting.”

Ah. Did he know the whole time…?

“I can see that question— No, but your hair is much more sleek than usual. You just removed that disguise now, did you?”

“Obviously.” He glanced around the room in a desperate attempt to find something worth changing the subject to, “Say, how many of these are plant guides—?” He even walked over to the nearest shelf and pulled a book out. What in the… 

“Pie and prejudice…” he read the back, “This is a Romance novel.”

“…Yes?”

He snorted. Snickered, even. “Oh my witches, that is So beneath you!” 

Pure Vanilla’s brow furrowed and he crossed his arms. “How so?”

Now Shadow Milk was outright laughing, desperately trying to contain himself but he just couldn’t. “We-what- don’t you know?!” He leaned forward, “The Romance genre is the biggest lie ever sold. Fantasies of gentle worlds with low stakes — it’s not just boring, but wholly unrealistic!”

“So?” 

“So?? You’d rather sit there consuming lies in the form of pulp fiction rather than something of your calibre like, I don’t know, Crumb and Punishment?”

“I’m just not seeing how it’s beneath me. Me, of all cookies.” Then his eyes focused, “Do you place value upon my preferences? Is that what it is, secretly you think what I like makes a difference to your life?”

“Ahem. No!! That’s not what this is.” He pointed a finger in Pure Vanilla’s direction, “The point is, it sells fantasies that are completely ridiculous, the only kind of deceit that makes my jam boil! I have several rants locked and loaded, so go ahead, shoot me, I’ll shoot back.”

Pure Vanilla studied him a moment longer before he took the book from Shadow Milk’s hands and sat down at his desk. “I think, what bothers you so much is not that it’s a lie, but rather that it’s unattainable… for you.  I know it’s going to hurt you to hear this, but you really cannot blame an entire genre for making you feel unlovable.”

The accusation froze Shadow Milk to the spot and he nearly tipped over, losing his balance. 

Pure Vanilla continued on without mercy, “as for Why I like to read them, it’s because it offers the reader a glimpse into a world where the biggest conflict in their life is their own emotions — far be it from me to say such a world doesn’t exist, for I’ve lived in it a many times… it’s so overwhelming to be a hero and a king with no space for oneself. Eventually, the only way you can allow yourself to feel is through the mask of a character: shouldn’t you understand? I like sappy romances because they’re cathartic — they hold all the love I wish I could give to the world in spite of my duties.”

Shadow Milk listened, but he concluded his opinion was only challenged, not swayed. He planted his foot on the ground, putting his hands behind his back and leaning over the desk, “Well, what do you know! I’m not going to change my opinion: it’s still stupid, even if it’s a valid coping strategy.”

Pure Vanilla rested his head on his knuckles, “Aww, are you jealous?”

“what.”

“No no, keep telling me about how you despise the fantasy of two people who understand each other building a relationship with a foundation of trust instead of leading one another along in games of trickery and manipulation for their heart. I’d love to hear it.”

The sardonic smile really sealed the deal here: he’d struck a nerve. “What’s wrong with You today? Those lost hours of sleep catching up, huh?”

His expression teetered on the edge of frustration, and he none too gently put his hands on the desk to shove himself to his feet. “I’m sleep deprived, hungry and now I’m upset. You know your words still hurt, even if they can’t cut as deep as they used to.”

Just a push more, and he might get Pure Vanilla screaming at him. Ooo, with so many politicians as an audience, that would be juicy! “I do! Yes, Pure Vanilla, I really, really do.” He leaned closer, “What are you gonna do about it?”

They both knew the correct answer was something gentle, maybe he’d talk himself out of crying before he returned to the meeting. Shadow Milk still expected his answer to be different, and yet Pure Vanilla sank back into his chair with his hands covering his face. “Can you leave me alone now?”

Oh. Oh.

“Um.” He straightened up, “Wait, Nilly, I didn’t mean— crumbs, I’m sorry.”

“Leave.” Pure Vanilla said.

For some witch forsaken reason he got closer. It went against both their wishes, and yet he couldn’t help it. His intuition signalled him to lift his hand.

Guilt pinpricked across his heart. Touch felt too imposing and yet he Just Had to do something. “You don’t… you don’t actually care that much about what I think of your interests, do you? I was under the impression you didn’t care…”

Pure Vanilla sniffed and wiped a non-existent tear drop from his cheek. His eyes weren’t even jamshot. “You’re right, I don’t. I just wanted to prove that you did, in some capacity.” A sly smile spread across his face, “Say, if I kept crying, would you have obeyed and given me space, or eventually reached out to gently try wiping my tears away?”

Oh, another prank? Seriously! 

“You—“ Indignation seared him whole. “That’s it. I’m leaving now. Goodbye.” 

He could still hear Pure Vanilla hum smugly from behind him as he ran away, back into the shadows to recollect himself.

Or better yet, into his other realm, where he formed up a little plushie and threw it at a wall. 

“Damn you, Pure Vanilla!” He screamed to no one in particular, then yanked the plushie back up. “You had me worried for a minute!” He squeezed it and his voice faltered, “Genuinely worried…” No. These stupid feelings again. He wasn’t worried, just surprised! His trick hadn’t worked. That little gnat was too clever for his own good. 

So instead he forced a grin upon his face, holding the plushie up above his head, covering a blinding light from the ceiling. “Oh you! Silly silly protégé, you thought you could fool me?! That’s just too rich, you almost had me there, y’know.” 

The other realm remained silent in response. Good silence, where he felt comfortably vindicated. “Well, if that’s the game you want to play, how about I make those generals scared, huh? They can’t reach Any conclusions if they think they’re under attack again!”

Then another idea struck him, “Yes, loosen the alliances with your kingdom, Pure Vanilla. We both know you’d never sell me out if you could help it! You want to deceive? Fine! Let’s see you try to convince them I didn’t just make an appearance in your kingdom!”

In case it isn’t clear, he’s still talking to the plushie. 

“Wh- YOU! Shut it!” He threw the plush at another wall in his other realm, the fourth one so to speak. The plushie cracked and exploded into dust and when the mist faded, he was in the kitchens yet again, disguised as the Servant Girl with all the vials hanging off her belt. She tapped a cook on the shoulder and relayed the request for jellybean stew. 

“Will that be for one, or for all?”

She considered telling him it would be for all, but such a waste of materials was beneath her. Although, it might be funny, very in character even! 

Not this character, she thought as she shook her head. “Just two, please.”

“Two? Oho, is he having a guest stay over?” The cooks exchanged knowing glances, “he’s certainly been preoccupied as of late with other matters. Perhaps he’s got a date to the feast this weekend.”

“Oh no no, eh…” dammit, I was just hungry! “Well, I wouldn’t know…” She swayed side to side innocently, if not a bit coquettish. “Maybe he’s keeping her in close quarters to make sure no one knows until the party.”

The cooks all nodded and continued speculating, and she found her chance to slip away as soon as she could, ignoring the impolite exit in favor of the embarrassment burning up her chest. 

Seriously, I gotta get moving!

She grabbed a mug out of a cabinet and swirled it around so there would be tea inside and made her way back to the hall of audiences. Her plans for exactly How she could sneak into the room were half-baked at best, but as a Servant Girl, she would look least suspicious if she were coming in to bring a refreshment to his majesty, and then slipped into a corner to wait for an opportunity to reveal herself again. Himself. Whatever. 

She waited at the door to eavesdrop yet again, just to make sure the timing was correct. This idea was inspired by the cooks - If she waited for all eyes to turn to him, she could play the card of acting a bit too comfy with the king himself. That’s bound to spread rumours.

She overheard quite a few details and squabbles go over before she ever got her chance to strike. The Beast of Deceit was a patient one, but he was starting to get uneasy, and she kept hearing shuffling of servants in the hall. If she was caught spying, someone was going to give her a lecture and then her plans would be foiled, so mid-discussion she barged in with the cup and saucer and greeted the committee like any good girl — a quick nod to the generals and the tea placed down before his majesty.

“Thank you. Did you remember the sugar cubes?” He asked. Cubes? No. Why would she ever add sugar cubes! 

“Oh, of course.” She leaned over to trace the rim of the cup to change its contents. “Let me know when you need a refill, your majesty.”

He leaned away from her to give her space while she did so, but she cast a side glance and winked before she left the room to slip into the shadows and watch. 

Subtle, completely deniable. But Servant Girls weren’t meant to talk like that. He knew this quite well, having had servants of his own as a fount. Candy apple cookie did not count, obviously. 

But he’d sweetened the tea to make it less obvious to everyone else — a little shot of whiskey to spice it up. And he watched with delight as Pure Vanilla took his first sip and his face scrunched a little after the first swallow. Nobody saw, being too preoccupied with returning to discussion. He cleared his throat and smelled the cup, then tilted his head considerately. And then he took a much bigger swig of it. 

Oh, wow. 

His curiosity upon Pure Vanilla’s thoughts were Buzzing. Oh, but I can’t hear them without the soul jam, can I? 

Thankfully, Pure Vanilla finished the tea a little Too quickly and he had an excuse to return. None of the arguing generals took notice of her the second time around, except for Pure Vanilla who stared up at her with a bemused expression.

“Any notes?” She asked, “I’m not an expert on tea, all feedback is appreciated.” 

He leaned and pushed himself back from the table with a funny half smile. “You could stand to make it stronger. The sweetness was appreciated though.”

“Oh. Did I not leave it brew long enough—?”

“Pure Vanilla.” Both turned their attention to cookie wearing a monocle whose voice carried out through the crowds. “Tell Chantilly Cream cookie that her investment plan is simply ridiculous! She cannot go through with this!”

The aforementioned Chantilly Cream cookie made herself known by pointing a finger. “As if your crumb-sized mind could comprehend what it takes to grow a business, let alone effectively use of government funding.”

“What is the plan?” Pure Vanilla asked, interlacing his fingers and leaning forward once again.

“She was going to spend the resources on accessibility for land workers to become tradesmen. As if this kingdom doesn’t have enough farmers as it is! We need more heavy lifters, dammit, the construction teams are almost as rich as the corporate executives themselves!”

“My idea was that we would use their talents where they’re most needed — and not every cookie wants to sit at a desk all day, neither do they want to be plowing fields. My idea was that we would make it more accessible for less fortunate cookies to take careers in which they truly excel.”

Shadow Milk leaned in to whisper. “How does this relate to defending your kingdom?”

“I have no idea.” Pure Vanilla responded, keeping his eyes on the bickering pair of cookies. “Like I said, you could stand to make the tea stronger next time.”

They both watched the discussion grow and reach the far end of the table, where some had to yell over each other to be heard. Chaos had never looked so unappealing.

“You know what?” Pure Vanilla said, holding up the mug, “Skip the tea. I’ll have it neat.”

Shadow Milk opened a tiny hole into his other realm and pulled a whisky bottle out. Filled the mug halfway. It was most certainly not tea, any general paying even a smidgen of attention would be able to smell that. 

“Quick, put that away before anybody sees.”

“Don’t I get a thank you?” She was met with a glare from Pure Vanilla. She shoved the bottle neatly away and stood politely at Pure Vanilla’s side watching him sip away at it.

“I don’t command my servants, Shadow Milk. You can do as you please.”

That’s one way to be dismissed. Someone’s eyes flickered back to Pure Vanilla at the mention of the name and Shadow Milk grumbled. 

“Well, how much longer do you plan to be in this meeting. Seems like you’re gonna be here a looong time.”

Pure Vanilla nodded. “Go. You won’t like what happens after I start talking again.” His gaze slid up, “Oh, and you wouldn’t mind being mentioned on the list of suspects I have when we eventually return to the topic of how Burning Spice’s servants made it into or out of my kingdom, right? I need a scapegoat.”

“I thought you said it was an insult to my craft.”

“It is. But they don’t know that yet.” He put a hand to his soul jam and winked, “I’ll call if I need help.”

Something warm fuzzed through Shadow Milk and he rolled his eyes, “Sure, whatever.”

He escaped the room using the door — but not before sneaking that whisky back in the form of a little teapot. Pure Vanilla might need some, after all. Those little gnats causing all the ruckus were still audible all the way from the other side of the castle — that being, Pure Vanilla’s bedroom, where Shadow Milk had kept the Servant Girl facade just long enough to confirm nobody walked the halls before slipping back into the comfortable tightness of his regular form. The ruffle collar was waiting for him on the back of the chair at Pure Vanilla’s vanity. The soul jam was not attached to it, but he didn’t have to look far for it — he could practically hear it pulsing from Pure Vanilla’s bedside cabinet. 

He picked the lock with his claws and pulled it open. There, sitting cushioned on the stack of paper, his soul jam, in all its glowing brilliance. 

“Oh, hello my darling!” He picked up and rubbed his cheek against it affectionately, “it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

It sizzled happily against his cheek. Stop it. It’s a soul jam, not a puppy!

“Oh, come on! All this time spent away didn’t soften the voices a single bit?!” Slowly the smile crept back onto his face, “Just how I like it.”

He decided to put off reattaching the soul jam to his collar to turn his attention to the letters. Oh yes, the letters.

A new, unsealed letter had joined the crowd. He ignored it in favour of his more pressing curiosity; had Pure Vanilla addressed any of the letters to Him?

The tore through the envelopes with a bit less precision than would be polite. No, no, almost, Wait—

The third on didn’t mention him by name, but it was a poem about a scared dove being nursed back to health and learning to trust — Uh, yeah. Power fantasy, moving along.

The next one… fascinating. Seemingly written just days after their very first encounter, it appeared to be a request for a meeting in private to better understand one another. Thankfully he acknowledged very consistently how stupid the idea sounded. 

The next one, thankfully dated a mere hour before he arrived to the spire, more ramble than really a letter. Oh, how naive he was back then, it was nearly nostalgic. 

The next few letters were not written by Pure Vanilla. 

Or at least, not signed the same way, and his handwriting was much sharper, messy at times as if he were rushing to write it all down.

Most ended with the same sentiment - “what have you done to me?!”, the emotions that accompanied the statement were constantly switching, like he couldn’t decide between hate and desire.

In another world, maybe he’d touch the line between those things just to toy with him. See if he could unmake him through that.

Witches Mercy…

He lowered the paper from his eyes, finally grabbing the letter he’d noticed was not there the night before. It had no wax seal, and again the sharp corners on certain letters persisted. This was closer to Pure Vanilla’s handwriting than most, signed with an upright heart. 

“Dear Shadow Milk Cookie. +Pure Vanilla if he finds this.

Firstly, I will be throwing this letter out to the void, so if you find this letter, leave it be. If you are Shadow Milk or Pure Vanilla finding it while you are not floating in the void, if you are perhaps in an arm chair, on a bed, pacing the halls of a kingdom in crispia, it means this has reached the right Cookie.

As my discoveries have lead me to find out, there is more than one timeline, one dimension, one storyline. Whichever one I reach, this is a greeting to you from one such alternate timeline. One in which time does not move forward or backwards. It’s a long story, let’s just say I’ve lived the same half a week over for about a year now.

I am not Pure Vanilla cookie anymore, let us start with that.

Let us continue with the more chilling information that this reached you due to a rift left by a former student of Blueberry Yogurt academy yet to be patched: Yes, I watched you run away from the dimensional portal. You and your Pure Vanilla. 

Thankfully, he is still somewhere within the premises, so I am writing this letter as quickly as possible to reach him. If this reaches you too, even better.

I’ve been stalling on this letter’s message, so I will relay it to you clear and simple; Our universes have been converging for some time now. It’s nothing to worry about, just in case you’re c

If either cookie has noticed changes within their own or another’s behaviour, know that it is likely the doing if that dimensional portal: Pure Vanilla darling, you especially should not be ashamed of how you think nowadays, your impulses have been my own too. There is nothing worth hiding, honesty has been and always will be the best policy. And I do say that, while my soul has been beyond marred by deceit. There simply is no purpose in concealing your thoughts any longer. And for Shadow Milk cookie I extend that same message. I apologise for how forward it is… I do believe what I witnessed before you went running was undeniable. I can only wish you luck ;)

I should make you aware that I have no power to control space or time, as that ability belongs solely to my new master. For further For future reference, don’t be afraid to contact me. You know exactly where to find me.

<3anilla.”

That heart signature was familiar. And yet, Shadow Milk couldn’t summon a single memory where he had seen it. Odd.

Anyway, The dimensional portal. He’d certainly heard stories from a certain someone about the time she tried using the dimensional portal to summon the first Headmaster. Her efforts towards the ultimate cookie saw absolutely no bounds. He respected the effort when he heard the story.

But as for multiple timelines… yes, not impossible. He floated off the bed, paced the air. The high ceilings of this room were a benefit, at least. Pure Vanilla cookie had once or twice mentioned some of the things addressed in the letter. Universal overlap wasn’t impossible under the conditions of their situation, almost expected at this point. He owned the spire after all, so he would know best that it didn’t work on regular time. He also knew that Pure Vanilla had used time travel to save his friends. It was only logical that another version of him still roamed the spire like he’d never awakened — perhaps a conscious effort on his part in one of the many variations of possibility to keep them both there, stopping and rewinding before Pure Vanilla’s awakening. Hence, reliving the same half a week for whatever amount of time it took for him to grow bored. 

He wasn’t expecting it to last a year, though. What could possibly be so fun about Pure Vanilla?

Your impulses are mine too.

His cheeks heated at the thought. If this version was looser with his desires than His Pure Vanilla… one could only imagine.

He grabbed another sealed letter, looking much neater and matching the paper of all the ones in the basket. Lo and behold, a letter not written in the spire! 

The prose spiralled just like the others, rather flattering and full of ridiculous compliments. He nearly felt too guilty to read it, and yet his eyes skimmed enough to know it was definitely Pure Vanilla’s scrawl. The letters ending was the only thing he could properly bear to read, and it said,

“It is far too cruel a fate to burden you with my desires, I’ve come to understand that now — but if it wouldn’t trouble you, would you like to stay the night again? You don’t even need to be near me, I just want to know you’re there.

Ah, this is so silly, isn’t it? But it is what you have done to me.

Heartfelt condolences,

Pure Vanilla.”

Sigh, what a doozy. He fell backwards on the bed, trying to take it all in. So, that certainly confirmed and complicated a lot. But maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t all gone. 

Was he still planning to destroy Pure Vanilla from inside out? Some part of him said yes, but he’d been neglecting the new, other half of his soul that… that made things more difficult for that first half. He could ignore it for now, wait for Pure Vanilla to return from his meeting, go snoop further, or just— Who knows. He was alone again. Alone and afraid of himself.

*

Unfortunately, those delegates were either awful diligent after he’d gone, or Pure Vanilla had decided to leave without warning, because the weight of the mattress shifted as a new cookie joined him on the bed. 

They didn’t say a word to each other, but the soul jams hummed at the returned proximity. Pure Vanilla crashed onto the sheets like he wasn’t capable of standing in the first place and had only now been let go of the torment that was pretending he could.

“You didn’t get too tipsy in the meeting room, did you?”

Pure Vanilla grunted into the pillow he’d shoved his face into. 

“Long meeting so?”

“Shut up.” He shifted onto his side. “Just. Don’t talk.”

Oh? He sounded too despondent to want an argument. Shadow Milk sensed through their connection that he was merely going to break down crying if he tried anything. Such a sight should be funny, desirable even. And yet.

And yet.

He shut his eyes. 

“Goodnight, Nilly.” He left it at that, because he had too much on his mind to stay grounded for now. No, he needed to figure this out. He needed to draw up a chart and weigh the outcomes. He needed a board with photos and red strings. He needed to be somewhere else.

But even as he willed himself to sleep, something at the back of his mind just wouldn’t let him, no matter how hard he tried. 

So he looked at his soul jam again. Stared into the glowing surface. The faintest nugget of Truth was blooming across the surface, no doubt a consequence of its whereabouts. As for the nugget of darkness in Pure Vanilla’s soul jam — exhaustion. He was snoring already. 

But the sun was still up, and the generals were still conversing. Had he left them to their own devices, too consumed by drowsiness to care?

That won’t do. I have to… I don’t. I don’t have to. But I will.

He, deprived of any other tasks to take his mind off what he’d seen in the letters, decided to go take Pure Vanilla’s position at the head of the table and play act a politician. Hey, what do ya know, the tea pot is still full!

*

After what felt like hours, he had managed to settle multiple conversations, brought the boiling hot jelly stew up to Pure Vanilla and watched the sun set by himself. Nothing interesting. When he finally returned to Pure Vanilla, he was already down half the stew. He had a really terrible habit of eating things when they were too hot, didn’t he?

Maybe it’s just my faulty heat tolerance, curse this body.

They said nothing, just sat side by side. Shadow Milk couldn’t tear his eyes off Pure Vanilla the whole time, and Pure Vanilla made good on his promise not to point it out.

He’d forgotten to clean up the letters, many were scattered on the floor next to his side of the bed. Hopefully it wasn’t obvious how far he’d pried from this angle. 

Eventually his bowl was placed on the bedside table and he took his soul jam off, removed the cloak, and everything save for the gown which he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to bother removing, at least not without Shadow Milk’s help. 

“I saw that letter about asking me to stay.” Shadow Milk said, trying to keep his tone quiet and even.

“You don’t have to. I was just… expressing my fantasies.”

“It’s been a week. Why do you still care so much? You should’ve abandoned them by now. And yet.”

“And yet.” Pure Vanilla agreed, “I already told you, I don’t care what you think about the things I like. I’m not in a mood for debating my feelings for you at the moment. Save it for the morning when I’ve...” he trailed off with a sigh.

Shadow Milk let the silence return. It wasn’t comfortable, but shattering it would be worse.

He let Pure Vanilla sleep, staring down the zipper at his back for the next hour or so. 

Eventually he fell into a fantasy, as he inevitably would. Something about the kiss Pure Vanilla had planted on his hand. He wished he could return the favour. He had such soft hands, designed to be held and kissed by someone more charming and confident. Maybe someone who could treat him with all the kindness he deserved for his fiendish benevolence. Someone better. Shadow Milk couldn’t place How.

Someone who would see the scars on his wrist without flinching. Someone with scars of their own, maybe ones that didn’t dig in too deep. Another cookie who could understand him without imposing the burden of their cruelty.

And Shadow Milk knew deep down that no such cookie existed. If they had, there would be no Shadow Milk. There would hardly be Beasts at all. If someone had just reached out — touched him, reminded him he was real, everything was real.

But it all felt so fake. Golden pillars and cookies on their knees to know it all. He was nothing more than a tool that broke, his only use in continuing to exist was to be used as a weapon. His desires didn’t matter, even if he thought he was free of his old self.

There is no purpose in concealing your thoughts any longer. Well, if nothing he said or did mattered, why would it make a difference how he felt for Pure Vanilla?

Reach for that goddamn zipper, prove yourself right. None of it matters, and if it did, you wouldn’t be here. You’d be setting those bombs off.

You shouldn’t want this, Little Blueberry, so what are you going to do about the fact you do?

There was a threshold in front of him. Slowly, his hands twitched back to life as he willed himself to move in either direction. What would he do if he didn’t have a soul jam, a sense of duty, a history? 

I don’t deserve this.

I don’t deserve this.

And I, foolishly, want it anyway.

In the morning, he would be gone forever. Tonight however, the threshold was getting nearer. 

He reached for the zipper.

Chapter Text

Shadow Milk had been acting strange for quite some time now.

As an opening statement, that had a lot of ground to cover, seeing as Shadow Milk was always… unique to any other.

But particularly, his behaviour whenever they were too near one another. Back in the spire, for instance, he was always detached, untouchable, any vulnerability was a facade and if one tried to reach out to graze the surface, they would find their hand reaching out into cold air, and the illusion diminished in an instant. 

But now, Shadow Milk had become more solid, ephemeral but most definitely tangible. He liked to cover it up, but his heart was thawing out, no doubt due to Pure Vanilla’s natural warmth. At some point, he hardly had to try to push his hand through the illusion — it wasn’t an illusion any longer. It was real, and it tasted like raspberry ice cream.

So then, Why had Shadow Milk returned to the Vanilla Kingdom after running away from him two nights ago? And no less as a servant. A cleaning servant. He respected the craft of acting, but such a job requires skills and effort that Shadow Milk had repeatedly show he simply wasn’t cut out for. But still, when he returned to his kingdom after a long day in the academy - long day and night, even — his bed had been made up, as had all the other beds in the castle.

And, a new servant girl in his ranks, who spoke to no one and listened just a little too closely to the kingdom’s gossip. 

He couldn’t prove it, but whatever lingered underneath Shadow Milk’s second layer of vulnerability was a ticking bomb, waiting in the shadows to go off.

Still, he trusted Shadow Milk to at least allow him the grace of being Away from the kingdom before anything serious happened. If nothing else, he still had Both soul jams, which meant easy control over the other realm. 

But, speaking of which, he was not expecting Shadow Milk to stay in his bedroom for so long. After all the meetings, the whisky teapot he didn’t finish, the soup and Shadow Milk’s, again, incredibly out of sorts behaviour, he thought his other half might appreciate spending as little time as possible in his proximity, especially after finding his soul jam again. But he stayed.

He’d read the letters, as Pure Vanilla expected he would. Call it what you will, he didn’t lock it in that particular dresser without a second thought. He was very, very aware Shadow Milk would find the letters.

After their last interaction in the observatory, the shame had been eating at him like a termite. Throughout the journey back to the entrance where he found Gingerbrave, the question if whether he’d gone too far pounded at the edges of his brain like an error message on a golden cheese hologram. 

That paranoia followed him through his whole day, and eventually he had no choice but to pick up Shadow Milk’s soul jam and hope to all witches that the beast was better at forgiving than he was at being forgiven.

The little brave cookies moved on from the soul jam thing quickly enough after they discovered the portal. 

“Oh, that? That was open when we got here!” Gingerbrave announced all too confidently.

Pure Vanilla reached out to it, stuck his hand in, felt something cold on his hands and then a solid object. A deteriorating plushie of a cake hound with a letter tied to it.

He decided not to read it out loud, declared it written in ancient scrawl he’d have to translate later and then pocketed it. 

Even now, he wasn’t ready to address the implications.

When he’d left the meeting abruptly, he hadn’t been thinking. He just knew he was one light push away from falling over and walked out of the room with a half baked excuse of needing a timeout. 

When he fell onto his bed, he mumbled a few words and went out like a light.

The next time he could register noise and sight, night had fallen and a steaming bowl of jelly stew was on his bedside table. 

And Shadow Milk was still there. He stayed, stared, kept silent. 

And when Pure Vanilla was lowering his head back to the pillow, Shadow Milk did the same. He could feel the beast’s eyes on his back even as he drifted off a second time.

And yet, he couldn’t stay angry. It was company, desired company. Comforting.

He’d asked for it, and he couldn’t deny it was Exactly what he wanted.

He fell back into slumber again, light enough that time still moved by as seconds rather than hours but heavy enough to dream, to sink into fantasy. He dreamt that Shadow Milk had taken his hand, pressed a light kiss to the back of it. He was sitting in the meeting chair, he could tell from the red cushion. Shadow Milk was kneeling at his feet, holding his fingers as if he were made of crystal glass. The beast looked up at him from where he sat, slowly turning his hand over and pressing a hesitant, reverent kiss to his wrist, so gentle it could’ve killed him. 

Go on, he thought, I know what you hunger for. Take your fill.

He pressed again, and again. His mouth brushed the scars but he didn’t seem to care that they were there, instead deepening his kisses. Each one was a pledge, to stay this time, so that they’d still be at each other’s side when he woke. He trailed his mouth up to Pure Vanilla’s elbow, having to raise himself on his knees, and finally he looked again to the Saint’s eyes, which held no judgement nor impatience for him.

He couldn’t see what lay beyond Shadow Milk’s wide and dazed eyes, only see that his own hand was reaching down to grab the ruffle collar, pull him forward, maybe kiss him back.

He never got the dreamy satisfaction of seeing that idea to its end, because in the next moment, he was awake again, with a lingering idea of tasting meringue on his tongue; for a little while he simply indulged in the warm feeling of his duvet, until he heard a zipper being undone, the one on the back of his dress. 

Shadow Milk was still there…? 

He pretended to be asleep so he could find out what was happening. If Shadow Milk knew he was awake, it might scare him off.

Wait, I shouldn’t be letting him take my clothes off without permission, why am I letting him do this?

Well, given how sensitive Shadow Milk was with touch already, he probably wasn’t planning on going far. Nonetheless, he’d unzipped it all the way, landing somewhere around the base of his (hypothetical) spine, so maybe he did have some wild ideas. His fingers traced a line down Pure Vanilla’s spine, and back up. He touched the back of Pure Vanilla’s neck, around his shoulder blades, his left shoulder, carefully pushing the fabric further apart, and then… 

Shadow Milk’s nails sharpened as he traced under the white fabric, moving under Pure Vanilla’s arm and down his side with two fingers. Perhaps he had caught the way his companion had stopped breathing, because he hesitated for a slow second before pressing further, as if testing the sensitivity. He was being deliberately slow, a nearly scientific interest to his touches.  A moment later, Pure Vanilla heard a small creak as Shadow Milk pushed himself closer, restrained breaths fanning his back. Could he tell Pure Vanilla was awake yet? With their soul jams so close once again, he could nearly hear the reverberating question within both of their minds; Is this allowed? 

Shadow Milk was asking, through the gentle hesitation of his fingers, Do I deserve this?

Or perhaps Pure Vanilla was just waiting for him to do so. 

What would he even say, if given such a loaded question? So irrelevant. Do you want it?

His claws twitched further, too deep within the fabric to stop. If he knew Pure Vanilla was awake, he’d probably have pulled them out by now. His conscience regarding Pure Vanilla’s ridiculous attempts at reconciliation stood firm, that he would not dare go this far knowing how complicated it made their situation. Or maybe, Shadow Milk had taken on this special way of tormenting him; by giving him exactly what he wanted.

Gently, his mouth made contact with Pure Vanilla’s dough, sending shivers down his whole body. His usually cold hands burnt against where Pure Vanilla’s ribs would’ve been if he had bones, seeming stuck between moving further to his waist or staying there forever. He could probably feel the pulsing of jam, up this close. Another kiss, more deliberate in its pressure, and Pure Vanilla made sure to make his consent clear this time. He leaned into it, pressed his body ever so slightly against Shadow Milk’s own. He really wished Shadow Milk would’ve just asked though. He felt every subtle shift, heard the tiny hitch in Shadow Milk’s breath as he opened his mouth that little bit more, his tongue grazing skin, wanting more and never saying it. His hands tensed but slowly move down to pull him closer, perhaps hoping that the sensation would wake him up, just so he could have an excuse to stop himself. 

Trying to follow this non-existent thought process, it made Pure Vanilla a little dizzy. No doubt that Shadow Milk’s mind had clocked out from being anything but dizzy by now. His unsteady breathing pattern as he pulled away from Pure Vanilla’s shoulder was enough to confirm how unraveled he’d become as a result of it all.

He waited and then cursed under his breath. “I’m so sorry.”

An apology, expected considering how he was still under the impression he was being discrete. Was this the point at which Pure Vanilla should let him know?

“I can’t tell if you’re hearing this, Nilly,” his voice was coarse like sandstone, “But if you are… I’m so sorry.” Finally, finally his fingers drifted to settle at his lower waist. “I’ve never been good at feelings, it’s been a non-issue to me since I was baked. I didn’t need anybody as a Fount, and I didn’t need anybody as a Jester. You’ve undone some part of me.” He whispered, as if he were confessing in the ear of a witch themselves, “To burn the world around you was not enough as a revenge for what you did to me.” 

Pure Vanilla stayed perfectly still, not even daring to breathe, in case the sigh he was holding back would startle Shadow Milk cookie. He wanted to let this keep going, to see how far the beast would take it. Maybe his mixed feelings would start to hurt, claws digging in. Or maybe, they’d just stay like this, the softened beat of Shadow Milk’s soul jam at his back, and the unsteady breaths fanning his shoulders, making them cold. Shadow Milk pressed his mouth against that space between his shoulder blades one last time, A smothered sound escaping him as he did so, something ashamed and delighted simultaneously. 

“Point is-“ his voice was pitched like he was about to cry, “I don’t know who I am anymore, I don’t know what I want… but it always comes back to you, no matter how far I run.”

“Shadow Milk?”

“I just wanted to…to know what it felt like, what you felt like. How soft your body was… what you taste like.”

“Shadow Milk.”

“Tell me to stop,” he begged, “Stop looking for you, stop trying to make you happy. I don’t… I shouldn’t… want this. But It feels like I’m being torn open when I’m not with you.”

He was nearly afraid to say the Beast’s name one final time, because this moment felt so pinched, like snapping the string would have dire consequences.

But after what Shadow Milk had said, there was no way but forward. “You can’t leap a mile and walk your way back.” He said quietly, “If you wanted to kiss me so bad, you could’ve asked, you know.”

The panic was instant, the once gentle claws tearing his dough as Shadow Milk cookie scrambled away from him, the eyes in his hair burning with embarrassment and dripping from the heat of the moment.

“Witches mercy! How long have you been listening?”

“I confess I’ve been awake since you opened that zipper.” He said sheepishly, turning to watch Shadow Milk’s face grow purple with humiliation. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands, “Oh my crumbs, that’s awful, you mean you knew what I was- Do whatever punishment you see fit, I deserve to be crumbled.”

“What, no!” 

“But I- I can’t amend this.”

“You don’t have to. What you feel is yours to worry for.”

“No, no. About the uh…” he peaked an eye open to gesture to the open zipper. “Nothing could atone for what I did just there.”

Oh, so he Knew it was wrong? That certainly complicated a lot. It also explained why he was so careful; he really was trying not to wake Pure Vanilla, thinking he was still asleep. At least he was nice enough to keep it above the belt. 

Pure Vanilla sighed. “You’re right. Cookies suffer such atrocities all the time, this hurt inflicted upon them by those who they trusted most; Although for a being of your kind, I do admit you were being surprisingly careful not to hurt me.” Pure Vanilla held up Shadow Milk’s clawed hand, the blackness already retreating from it. “What you did would be unforgivable in the circumstances that I wasn’t aware of what you were doing; if I’d caught you even a moment later I would have had you arrested and sent a warning to my closest associates.”

“And that sounds like fair punishment.” Shadow Milk agreed.

“It was my awareness that lended you silent permission. I knew where you were going, and I let you travel down that road. Though, in future, do not think you can repeat your actions. You will touch me with my permission only.”

“Yes Saint.” He said obediently. “Sorry, Yes… Pure Vanilla cookie.”

It tickled his insides that Shadow Milk had let that nickname slip, but he had to focus on this conversation first. “Will you promise?”

“On my stolen heart.” He swore. “I won’t hurt you like that again.”

Finally the stern look of Pure Vanilla’s face softened, back to something he hoped would be warm and inviting. Or maybe Shadow Milk preferred him looking conflicted. “So then, are you going to stay with me?”

Shadow Milk watched as the last of his claw-like sharpness retreated back to regular cookie fingers. “Shouldn’t I?”

“I’d like it if you did. But I also know some couples take time away after such serious conversations to recuperate. Not saying we’re a couple, of course, just—“

“Gosh, you and your healthy relationships. In case you forgot, I’m not healthy, well adjusted or good for you. Loving me is going to hurt you more than it’s worth.”

Pure Vanilla shrugged a shoulder. “I’ll pay the price. I’m a very good healer you know, bearing pain is just another facet of my job.”

Shadow Milk finally found the courage to roll his eyes. “Between this and the way you prefer things scalding hot, I’d almost believe you’re a masochist of some kind.”

Pure Vanilla took this opportunity to interlace their fingers and raise his hand so he could plant a kiss on Shadow Milk’s fingers. “I’m not, but even so — perfect match for your sadism, right?”

Shadow Milk’s breath caught for a moment before he sighed and leaned back in. “My god, just kiss me already.”

Butterflies swam around in his stomach and before he could get even a word out, Shadow Milk was consuming him with his kisses, a clear imitation of what he remembered it went like. Hungry, feverish, desperate to get as much out of the moment as he could muster. 

If it weren’t for the clear difference in their strengths, the force would’ve toppled him over.

But, despite his thundering heart, Pure Vanilla had desires too. And if anything was certain, it was that Shadow Milk was Not going to be in control for this act of the play. 

Eventually he managed to pry Shadow Milk away enough to get a few words out. “Shadow Milk. What did I say about permission?”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“That’s alright.” He brushed a soothing hand down Shadow Milk’s hair. “Take the collar off again, I want to make sure it doesn’t get in the way.”

Where normally Shadow Milk might’ve scoffed, he seemed to obey the command as if he were trying to make up for his slip up just now. And then he straightened up, and Pure Vanilla climbed over to sit in front of him.

“You’re messing up the duvet.”

“I know.”

“Someone put a lot of work into making it so neat.”

“I know.” He repeated, finally having the opportunity to laugh, “If I kiss you my way, will that make up for it?”

Shadow Milk fixed him with a bemused glance but lightly placed his fingers against Pure Vanilla’s chest. “I don’t know… but I trust you.”

Trust?

Oh, that’s a big word. Maybe bigger than love.  

No, not bigger than love.  

A thought ticked through his mind before he silenced it by raising his hand to Shadow Milk’s cheek. He was already leaning in before he could form a response.

Softness. Gentle touch. He knew how Shadow Milk found it repulsive. But this was his kingdom, his room, his bed. And Shadow Milk wasn’t exactly in a position to demand.

Still, he pressed against Pure Vanilla’s mouth like he was pleading.

Please. Please love me. I don’t care how reckless you are, just love me.

Funny how even a simple soul fusion from one week ago still revealed so much about him.

Pure Vanilla’s hands cupped his face, simultaneously keeping him at bay and pulling him closer. Admittedly he was not very good at this either, which he covered for in the form of giving Shadow Milk that little bit more of what he wanted — deepening the kiss until Shadow Milk’s claws yanked him forward and they both fell with Shadow Milk now pinned beneath him.

“Woah, slow down, what are you doing…?”

“I don’t know how you keep it all so contained.” He gritted out, “but I need you to hurt me. I feel like a rabid dog, just fight me or something.”

“No.” Pure Vanilla said easily, “I won’t be doing that. We’re going to do this lovingly, or not at all.”

“Why?!”

Pure Vanilla pushed himself onto his hands and adjusted so he was comfortably sat on top of Shadow Milk, “because this desire isn’t… it’s not something that I want to have go away after only one night. If we start it with me abusing you like a ragdoll, it sets a negative standard for our relationship.” He leaned in, “Besides, I think you’re missing out on the true wonders of being cared for, and I need you to sink into it comfortably because I know I can get very intense with it. Just… let me guide you.”

Shadow Milk’s eyes went alight with curiosity after the mentions of intensity. Pure Vanilla sat back up to stare at him a moment before reaching over to the ruffle collar. “You don’t mind if I try calming your nerves a bit, right?”

“…Full speed ahead.”

He took the soul jam and, momentarily ignoring the cookie it belonged to, he traced around it curiously — not to do anything yet, just to feel its shape and test the sensitivity. If it was anything like his, he could summon a bit of magic into his palms and use that to calm the emotions. 

Or… the eye hole was expanding like it was waiting for him. Oh, this is about to get unusual.

“Tell me if it hurts.” He willed the magic into his fingertips and, with exceeding gentleness, he pushed a finger through the eyehole. Shadow Milk watched with the same scientific curiosity as before, only now his breathing had gotten shallower. He’d even sat up against the headboard to better watch as Pure Vanilla inserted another finger. The beast gagged. Pure Vanilla didn’t try moving around, just letting the magic flow into the soul jam. Eventually he heard the beats sigh and saw his limbs go slack. 

“How does it feel?”

Shadow Milk nodded, “Better, I think. Helping the nerves, really, really not helping the desi-ire!” Pure Vanilla pulled his fingers out a little too quickly and snorted. 

“Whoops. I’ll be careful next time. Lie back down for me.”

After getting the beast’s head on the pillow again, he loomed over just to stare at him. “I’m going to… to trail kisses down your body at some point. Is that okay?”

Shadow Milk went purple all over. “Wh… how far?”

“I can start with your neck. Just tell me when it’s too much.” He leaned back in and waited for an affirmative nod before pressing his lips back onto Shadow Milk’s. The pacing was much gentler, but no less loving. Resembling the intensity of his dream, only slower, less reverent and more… yielding.

Shadow Milk certainly didn’t stop him when his hands trialed around his body, massaging his sides. If anything, his arms elegantly wrapped around his shoulders. The smothered noises made the whole thing worth it. He’d rip space time apart just to hear them again. So, his mouth eventually left Shadow Milk’s and trailed down his neck to his chest. 

“Is this okay?” 

“There’s- there a spot a little further up. Just at my shoulder— there!!” He gasped when Pure Vanilla hit it. Adorable, how his limbs folded in like it was too much for his body to contain. And yet he never signaled a stop, just kept let Pure Vanilla find new places to steal those precious sounds from. 

Shadow Milk seemed rather unsure of his chest for some odd reason. His stomach though, he was mostly fine with that.

His clawed hand dug into Pure Vanilla’s scalp to keep him at bay when he tried to go any lower.

“All fine?” Pure Vanilla had to ask and he crawled back up.

Shadow Milk’s eyes at stared up at the ceiling for an answer. “It’s different, I admit. Suddenly I feel like I was being really dumb when I escaped you in the observatory.”

“Don’t fault your past selves,” Pure Vanilla said, lacing his hands with the shadows of hair that had spread themselves over the pillows. “You know yourself better than anybody. Aside from me. I could sense the conflict within you too, which is why… I owe you an apology for being so forward. It was bad timing, and I wasn’t thinking about anything logically. Another consequence of my mental exhaustion after hearing your tale. But you didn’t deserve that to happen. I’m sorry.”

Shadow Milk stared up at a him. His brows turned and he averted his gaze. “You’re too good for me, Pure Vanilla.”

“No.” He pecked Shadow Milk’s cheek. “Stop that, no more self deprecating statements. I’m a healer but I can’t fix a broken mindset. You’re the only one who can hush your inner demons.”

His eyes lidded before he eventually nodded. “No promises.”

Wow, that was fast? Clearly he was in an agreeable mood today.

Oh, in that case…

“Is my dress still open at the back— it is.” He pushed the fabric until he could pull his arms out. “Okay, don’t freak out when I take this thing off, please.”

“I’ve watched you bathe, Pure Vanilla. I’ve helped you, in the spire.”

He pulled the dress over his head and dropped it on the floor somewhere, and fell onto his side of the bed. “I hope you don’t mind, I was actually wondering how far you’d go if I didn’t say anything. Now… you can keep going, if you like.” Shadow Milk climbed over but he seemed far too nervous to touch, to do anything but stare down at Pure Vanilla. The purple flush deepened the longer his eyes roamed.

“No it’s okay.” He took Shadow Milk’s hand and lowered it to his chest, over his heart. “You have my permission.”

The tendrils of his hair went crazy. At first they looked like they were screaming, and then they all stiffened, fell limp, and started melting. “This is too much.”

“Then… you don’t have to.” Pure Vanilla affirmed.

“No no, I want this.” Shadow Milk’s breathing pattern went all over the place. “Oh my stars, I want this so much. It’s just the weight of it is really overwhelming right now.” 

Somehow, Pure Vanilla read his mind just from the way he was teething his lip. “…You can use your teeth. And claws. Just don’t overdo it.”

Shadow Milk winced like a wounded dog and went down on him. The claws were already digging into his waist before he knew it. Turns out he shouldn’t have disregarded that part where Shadow Milk wondered how he tasted. He might not have known how to kiss on mouth, but anywhere else was a different story. 

He quickly dropped his kisses down to Pure Vanilla’s abdomen, savoring every inch of dough he could. He might’ve been trying to leave marks with the way he was sucking on the skin to bite down on it. 

Considering his animalistic behavior, Pure Vanilla found it fitting to scratch the top of his head while he did this. “Haha, ow. Do I taste good?”

“Better—“ he gasped, “—Than any other cookie I’ve eaten.”

Um. What!

Pure Vanilla didn’t press that question tonight. At this point, nothing was beneath Shadow Milk. Except me, literally.

“I’m flattered that- ow. That you’re so enthusiastic, shad-Ow! Milk. You could stand- ow. To move somewhere else though.”

Shadow Milk stopped to look at him. “Lower?”

Pure Vanilla managed a laugh, “My stars, you’re so untamed. Just a warning, I’m really sensitive at my waist and lower. Might not be a good idea to bite so hard.”

He slipped like a shadow down until his hands rested on Pure Vanilla’s legs and he daringly licked the spot under his abdomen. That earned him a lovely scream in response. “Mwehehe, Oh this is gonna be SO fun.” 

Pure Vanilla twitched at the sensation of the other’s mouth being in contact with such vulnerable parts of him. “Please be gentle…”

“Fine, fine,” Shadow Milk kissed him softer, and turned his eyes up, “At your service, Saint.”

Sparkling, cold water. 

Pure Vanilla always liked the warm kind better, but this was welcome too. Refreshing, after all the heat of their entanglement tonight. Shadow Milk sat behind him, lathering in shampoo like he used to do in the spire. His favorite shampoo, he pointed it out as he was being carried to the tub. 

He still needed to go shopping for more. 

Shadow Milk, tuckered out from all the soul jamming Pure Vanilla won’t go into details about, was sitting directly under the shower’s spray as he massaged at Pure Vanilla’s scalp. They’d hardly spoken a word to each other for several minutes now.

But, that little nugget at the back of his head about trust had come back to him. So, as Shadow Milk was pulling him back, he planned out his question;

“Shadow Milk, What do you think lies at the bottom of every motivation in the world?”

Shadow Milk used his magic to direct the cold stream towards Pure Vanilla and tilted the Saint’s head back. “How long do we have?”

“I can listen the whole night.” Pure Vanilla said, “Love. Love, and fear. I had a dream that someone who looked just like you was asking me that question, and supposedly those are the two most popular answers.”

Shadow Milk hummed, “Yeah, I can attest. I used to ask that question to myself when bad things happened. I wondered why, why is cookie kind the way it is? I thought, if I could figure out the central point from which every desire sprung, I could turn the page of this world and start anew, sway cookies to my bidding.”

“But the answer wasn’t so simple, was it?”

Shadow Milk didn’t talk, squeezing out the soap from Pure Vanilla’s hair. “Nope. To answer your question… I guess it’s not up to me, is it? I don’t control the forces that make up fate any more than Mystic Flour cookie, or Burning Spice, or You for that matter. There is no solid evidence there even Is a centre of the universe. Deceit, maybe, is the only thing everyone can agree upon. It’s not the reason people act, but it’s the tool most commonly used.”

“I disagree.” Pure Vanilla said, “Truth is just as valuable as a tool.”

“Oh please.” Shadow Milk pushed him away from the water and continued to wring his hair out, pulling his fingers through to keep it all in place, “Truth might be a tool, but it can’t do half the things Deceit can. It’s less a wrench and more a hammer. It can’t fix all your problems, sometimes it ends up making things worse.”

“Well, alright. I knew this when I reawakened,” Pure Vanilla said as if affirming his stance, “I accepted that sometimes, one must tread through darkness to see the light. And sometimes, the light is harsh, so harsh it might burn. But we must keep moving towards it. That’s kind of how love works too, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” Shadow Milk said, and felt his heart drop as the next words tumbled out from his lips, “I haven’t been familiar with love in a long time.”

Pure Vanilla hummed, “Yes. It’s been said many times before, how familiar you are with the other side of the duality. We represent the two opposing forces yet again, don’t we?”

Shadow Milk dropped the golden locks from his fingers and let the water guide them back to the other clusters of hair, “I think I should add conditioner. Which bottle do you usually use?”

The night air was also fresh on his dough, but the incoming spring and humidity kept the sunlight’s heat even after it was long departed, replaced by the moon’s glow. 

Pure Vanilla wore a loose satin white robe and Shadow Milk was in a loose gown he’d magic’d into being his signature black and blue. He sat on the railing of the balcony with one foot dangling off the edge. Since they were out in the open air, he’d made his hair all white so it looked from a distance like he was the servant girl. Anybody standing at this distance could see it was all an illusion, a trick of perception.

“You look good with white, you really should try wearing something from my closet.”

“I am. It’s just painted a different colour. Why, don’t like it?” Shadow Milk teased.

“Oh, I love it. I think that the lace on the sleeves was your doing though, because I wouldn’t ever be so… detail oriented.”

Shadow Milk smiled and went silent. The discussion they’d had in the shower still lingered in his mind, and he could tell it was mutual; indeed, why had the Sage asked him such a question in the first place?

“I’m glad you’re here.” Pure Vanilla said instead, because before being curious, he was comfortable. He leaned against the balcony’s stone railing, sniffed the flowers decorating it. “It’s a busy day tomorrow. What time is it again?”

Shadow Milk’s smile twitched, “Uuhh, you wouldn’t wanna know. But you’ll be fine. I think. I can… I can run the errands that don’t need your face on them.”

“Oh?” Pure Vanilla straightened, “Why, pray tell, would the Beast of Deceit ever want to help me, his nemesis, with kingdomly affairs?”

He blinked and realised that indeed, that was quite unlike him. He laughed manically and flicked his wrist. “What, can’t I have a little fun!” He said, before softening again, “Well let’s see: You need to rest, I need to learn the ways of your townspeople to better use the masses against you, And you’ve got a convenient number of staff being absent tomorrow because…your benevolence sees no bounds, even when it curses you!”

“Oho, so you were going to use grocery shopping as an opportunity to learn my kingdom from inside? Very smart. I wouldn’t have caught that if you just stuck with the act of being infatuated with me, you know.”

Shadow Milk floated off the railing and grabbed his face, “I am. But that’s beside the point. I said I was gonna be bad for you and I have to prove it.”

“Your honesty is a concerning start towards that endeavor. Say Milky, have you noticed your soul jam being brighter in colour as of late?”

Shadow Milk stared down at the soul jam which he’d pinned to the night dress. “Yeah, wasn’t I the first to notice?”

“Second, actually. Your behaviour has been very different as of late so… well, I can’t speak for you, but I’d say your soul jam is shifting towards Truth more and more every time I see it.”

He unpinned it and stared down at the navy surface. “Well, that’s interesting. Do you think yours will turn in response?”

“As in, fill with Deceit?” Pure Vanilla turned back to look over the rolling hills beyond his kingdom, “No.” He said confidently, “I don’t think so.”

Shadow Milk followed his gaze to the horizon. “I think… well? What do you think of that? Me, turning towards Truth. Would it satisfy you to have two soul jams of Truth?”

Pure Vanilla frowned for once, “I don’t think it’s safe. But if you aren’t worried about it, I trust your judgement. You know more about your own soul jam than I do, and again, I… I am still a bit hungry, actually.”

“Oh. You can have my soup. it’s a bit cold by now but—“

“Yes,” he planted a kiss on Shadow Milk’s cheek, “You’re so kind when you’re falling into Truth, Milky.”

Shadow Milk followed him with his eyes as he walked back into his room. It’s not just Truth, he thought he heard, but when he checked Shadow Milk was gone. Probably back into his other realm. Or maybe, he was back in the Dark Cacao hospital, dreaming of another world.

Chapter Text

The next time Blueberry Milk felt like he was perceiving the world with proper clarity, it had been two long weeks since his night with the Recluse. He couldn’t remember much of what had happened after slipping into the covers and getting tangled in his arms, but he could remember the Recluse making him breakfast before they said their goodbyes or, who knows, maybe it was expressed non-verbally.

The point is, he’d been in a state of half awareness for the time they’d been apart. He didn’t expect the Recluse to come back, and neither did he go searching particularly. But as the days dragged on, he desired the Recluse more and more, to lend him some break to the monotony he was so accustomed to.

So late one evening, he decided he was going to lure the Recluse out with something completely unexpected. 

…

Blueberry Milk cookie was never one for buying flowers. 

Despite their beauty, their abundance signaled no need for them, especially when they could be cultivated so easily. But tonight he’d uncovered Truth whilst pondering. 

The value in a gift is not the gift itself but rather the fact of giving. The message “I want you to have this”, because “I want you to have me.” Of course, you could never own a person, no matter what they tell you.

And so, a bouquet of the most beautiful blue roses and milk crowns would have to do. The majority of the flowers though, they were yellow roses; a symbol of friendship and good will, which is what the Sage of Truth desired of the Truthless Recluse.

Even if it were only pretend, he wished for a connection, beyond simply Knowing the Recluse. 

How a single day and night could incite such a strong spark of interest within him, beyond the usual scientific curiosity, he had no idea; if anybody asked, he’d simply tell them that in order to grow one’s mind, they would have to spend time around those they disagreed with; professionally, of course. It is a waste of time to listen to those who incite anger on purpose. Most were either fools or looking for a reaction. 

He waited on a street corner, the very same where he’d met the Recluse previously. Some twinkling of wind chimes and cold breeze signalled his arrival.

“Shouldn’t you be teaching?”

Just like last time, the Recluse stood in the light. The Sage tried to hold back his smile to remain mysterious, but doing so only made it grow wider. “I thought today might be a learning kind of day; teacher training, if you will.” He stepped towards the Recluse, held out the bouquet. “Will you be my instructor?”

The Recluse squinted at the bouquet and then at Blueberry Milk. “Is this your attempt at a joke?”

“What, No! Why would I ever, dear?” Really, given his stance on Truth, it was no surprise that the Truthless Recluse’s first assumption was that he was being deceived, but it still stung that he had so little faith in the Sage. Truthless Recluse seemed to realize how impolite it was too, as in the next moment his head bowed low in apology.

“I am sorry. I cannot accept these flowers.” He raised his head, “They are very lovely though.”

“Hmmm, I didn’t wait for you simply to give you flowers; I also wish to accompany you to do whatever tasks you have to do today, and if you have nothing to do, perhaps ask if you’d like to accompany me to… do anything, I’m open to suggestions.”

“Have you no responsibilities? You are a teacher.”

“Oh, I come and go as I please, just like you.” The Sage took Recluse’s hand, “I just happen to like the attention I get when I preach, or sing, or lecture. I’ve found a home here, but really I am not bound to this city any more than you are.”

The Recluse stared down at his hand. “So are you going to take me out of the city if I agree?”

The Sage gasped, “That’s a wonderful idea! There’s a lake I go to collect my thoughts after a stressful day, if you haven’t seen it yet I think we should go as soon as possible. Ah Recluse, you’re looking a bit flushed.”

The Recluse covered his face with his hat. “Why do you always do this?”

“…Do what?”

The Recluse stepped away, dropping his hand, “Nothing, you act as if this is our first meeting all over again. There’s a certain cluelessness to you I find… I’m not sure what I find it, but also… I don’t have responsibilities at the moment. We can leave as soon as you’re ready.”

Something in his heart stuttered to life and he instinctively pulled the Recluse into a hug. “Wonderful! Well, I’ll keep these safe in my house and then we can head off.”

Recluse blushed harder. “You never fail to surprise me, Little Blueberry.”

*

The path to the lake was lined with elderflowers and yellow buds waiting to bloom. The path crackled under his shoes, and the Recluse seemed to step carefully on the patches with the dullest stones to avoid hurting his feet. 

The lake sparkled in the wide sunlight of the afternoon. They’d caught this place at a moment of good weather, though clouds loomed distantly foreshadowing a storm. Heh, it would be nice if we got to rest together again. That first time was so nice after all.

“Look who’s blushing now.” The Recluse smirked. “Getting nervous at the prospect of taking our clothes off?”

Woah.

“Hang on, hang on!” He choked, “What did you just say?”

“Nothing.” The Recluse said politely, “There is no such thing as modesty in the cookie world. Forget I said anything.”

Weird.

How long had they been apart for exactly? 

And… something in the air was different. Barring the appearance of the Recluse of course, today was like all the others… and yet, he felt once again as if his life had shifted, new perspectives colliding with his worldview.

Maybe it was the oncoming nerves as he watched the Recluse remove his robes piece by piece — but he felt like an entirely different cookie today.

“Erm, are you wearing anything underneath that dress?” He had to ask as the Recluse was down to the dark coloured gown that he wore beneath all the other layers. 

“Mhm, you think I’d be comfortable swimming in a lake if I had to do it completely naked? Oh sorry, you never said we were going swimming… I just assumed that’s what you were suggesting. You don’t have to join me, but the water looked nice and it’s… been a while.”

Been a while, huh? 

The peak of Truth mustn’t have had many good lakes to swim in. That’s odd, I could swear there were several both on the path up and at the top. But maybe I’m misremembering.

His thoughts were silenced as the Recluse pulled the gown over his head and pulled himself free of the armholes.

Indeed, he was wearing something underneath; a bodysuit that resembled a one piece swimsuit so well he nearly wondered if the Recluse was planning this. Cut at the upper thigh area, the rest of his legs were covered by long socks that had cutouts at the heel and toe, explaining his caution on the gravel path. The top of the suit was sleeveless and turtlenecked. His arms were covered from elbow to palm by fingerless gloves, really accentuating how toned he was. That was, without a doubt, from doing some kind of athletic training. Where and how and what for were all questions that zoomed through his mind as he stared, mouth parted. He probably looked silly, taking it all in, but the Recluse made no effort to commentate, leaving his clothes in a pile under a willow tree.

“Well, you’re free to join me if you can move from that spot ever again.” 

The Sage did not, in fact, move from that spot as the Recluse plunged himself into the depths of the lake. 

It took several moments for him to shut his mouth and settle under the willow tree.

The Recluse swam laps back and forth in the lake whilst the Sage tried drawing him from memory. Admittedly he was being very forgiving with the under eye shading. The Recluse looked like he never slept, so the lack of eyebags in his doodles felt inaccurate, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to draw him in all his agonising beauty.

And, he added longer hair than the Recluse really had, maybe for some stylisation. After all, drawings didn’t have to be All accurate. 

The result was… well, Recluse already had a fallen angel aura to him, which he’d really leaned into with his doodles. This was someone befitting of the name Pure Vanilla Cookie.

Another headache split his temple.

Damn it, why does that keep happening?!

Maybe he needed a movement break, damn the sun’s heat today.

When he approached side of the lake to dip his fingers in, the Recluse stopped to float in the centre of the lake.

“Thinking of taking a swim?” The Recluse called, “It’s quite cold. Refreshing, if the sun is starting to get at you.”

“Aha, I would, but I don’t have any spare clothes. Not sure it’s hot enough that they’ll dry on the walk back, either.”

The Recluse raised his hands to shrug. “There’s light spells you can use to dry off. I know one. Just remove the jacket and monocle.”

Well. He couldn’t refuse a pretty face.

He unclipped the buttons of his jacket and took his accessories off until he was down to his billowy white shirt and jeans. And carefully he stepped into the water until he was submerged to his waist, where he pushed forward to swim until he reached the Recluse again. 

“Oooh, this is cold! How do you handle it?!” He said, suppressing a shiver. The Recluse gave an amused huff.

“You get used to it.” He said simply, “come, it’s better once your head goes under.”

The Recluse demonstrated by sinking under the water and then coming back up.  

Sage did the same, squeezing his eyes shut and plunging himself under the surface before coming back up with a gasp.

“There we go, feel better?”

Sage tried his best to smile, “I’m still freezing.” 

“Hm, movement tends to help that. Tag, you’re it!” The Recluse tapped him on the shoulder and rushed away. The Sage didn’t hesitate to move this time, giving chase in the water.

“Oh, that is So childish! C’mere!”

The Recluse’s plan worked, and despite the freezing splashes, he did indeed find himself growing warmer. Mostly, his body numbed to the cold and his body heat rose to protect him. Strange, a lake in the sunlight shouldn’t have been this cold. But he ignored it in favour of the little games he and the Recluse played. They might’ve kicked each other a few times trying to scrambled away. Sometimes the Recluse would dive under the water and go missing, and then the Sage would feel something grab his foot, the Recluse would emerge to hear him yell and laugh at him for thinking there was really a monster in the lake. 

It was all fun, familiar, reminded of his youth. 

But…

Just what had his youth been like?

Yes, the sun was still shining now, but the clouds on the horizon were looming closer, and sooner or later they’d cover the sun whole. 

He’d stopped too long in the water, realizing the Recluse had gone under again in an attempt to scare him.

He expected it when something wrapped around his leg. Welcomed it for the split second before he registered the texture of it.

Slimy. Wrapping twice around his ankle. He tried kicking it away but instead of yanked him down into the depths. He couldn’t remember the lake being this deep. Through the rays of light permeating the water he could just about see the face of the creature that had pulled him down. His chest pricked with fear. 

Gleaming, sharp teeth hidden behind a terrible open mouthed grin. The face was pale too, with a wide eyed stare that couldn’t possibly have belonged to a cookie from the short glimpse he had before he was scrambling about in the water trying to away. It leaned in closer. 

“You’re losing yourself.”

Its gills flapped so show it wasn’t speaking with its mouth. Blueberry Milk, on the other hand, was trying to suppress his scream, lest it waste oxygen. But oh, he had never been more scared in his life.

“We made a deal, little blueberry. Now you have your freedom, but you’re forgetting who you are. Strength, power, control. Did you not crave for these things before?”

“Please.” He saw the air bubbles leave his mouth, powerless to stop them rising. But he had to keep fighting. 

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this!

“And now here you are, indulging in the pleasant simplicity of your darling Pure Vanilla Cookie.”

God dammit, what do you want from me?

A thought, spoken in his voice, but not his tone. Someone else was fighting with him. 

“It’s almost laughable, really, that the first thing you would do if given the opportunity to be just a regular cookie is to live your life never beckoning for more. It’s almost like you want to give up.”

He wanted to say he had no idea what the creature was talking  about, but something inside him was resonating with the words. 

“You know I’m right.” The creature’s tail, or talon, or whatever it was using to hold Blueberry Milk under the water, dragged him further down. 

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. I can do this. I can do this, I can do this— Please-!  

His fight was impossible. He’d just keep sinking. “That’s why, you need someone to take control. To guide you. Like some kind of puppet.”

He was running out of time. Soon, he’d have to let go, take in air, or water in this case. I can— I can do this— He could feel his head starting to hurt from the pressure of holding his breath. “Let go!”

He tried struggling again, which only resulted in him gasping in the water. No, no no no!

“Ah-ah, little Blueberry. You first.”

What?

He felt himself struggle and gasp water again. Witches, he was going to drown here if the creature didn’t let go of him. He would drown here even if it did.

“You’re so persistent.” It said as if mocking him. “It’s no wonder you kept this part alive, it gives you resilience doesn’t it?”

His tears blended with the freezing water. He was coughing now, losing vision. Amongst the fear, an acceptance started to bloom. I can’t do this. It’s too much. Too far… too…

Cold.

It was freezing. 

The waters were numb against him, now it was onto the void of freezing cold, keeping him in place while also sinking him. Infinite darkness, maybe a few distant blue stars.

And, for some reason, Shadow Milk cookie wasn’t worried at all. If he could put words to it; When one has lived a life so long, crafted and lived through so many stories, there always comes a point where the hero feels lost, alone, afraid. Out of options and out of power. And then, by some miracle, a spark in the dark always comes to relight the world. He didn’t need to desire for the warmth to come back. He already knew it would. 

And when it did, it scorched him. 

Took his hand to pull him closer, hooking its arms around his chest, dragging him up.

He couldn’t see in colour. But he could hear a few gurgles every now and then. 

A voice calling out to him, no. Not him. The voice was asking for someone else. 

Of course: who would want to save Shadow Milk cookie?

“Open your eyes, please!”

He could hear it, but he couldn’t see it. 

“This is not the end yet. Come find me.”

His chest hurt. His lungs hurt too. Everything was so cold. He could hear the crashing sound of someone fighting the water. Taking him with them. 

“You’ll be okay. Just wait a little longer, it’s alright.” He recognised the voice, but yet again, all focus was numbed when he was still in so much pain. “Just a little further, and I can help.” 

He lost cognitive awareness after that. It can’t have been long before he woke up again.

Something was pressed to his lips, transferring air to his lungs. He didn’t have to guess from the warmth. He couldn’t taste it but he could smell from the proximity.

He startled back to life gagging and throwing up water. 

His lungs still burned, and coughing up all the water was only making it hurt worse. It felt like his eyes were going to pop out. But at least he could take in breaths again, even if they were immediately pushed out by the gagging.

Eventually he was able to rasp in the breaths, hyperventilating to make up for all the air lost in the past… wait a second. 

“You saved me.” He gasped, “How… What even…?”

“Shhh. Stay down. Tell me when your vision comes back.” The Recluse smoothed his fringe down for him, and Blueberry Milk obeyed in staying quiet. 

It all looked like black and purple and blue flashes in front of him, but as oxygen returned to his system, those colours brightened and faded into a more manageable gray and green and yellow. 

The mismatched eyes of the Recluse watched him and narrowed when he could see that Blueberry Milk would be alright.

“Welcome back to paradise.” The Recluse said, “hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

For once, his strange behaviour was a welcome comfort after whatever he just experienced. “I thought I was going to die.”

“I don’t know what I thought…” Recluse admitted, “I just saw you struggling and I swam down to save you.”

“But I was so far down… how could you possibly have caught me in time?”

“Is that so? Wasn’t too far down to me. Maybe your panic made you see it that way.” The Recluse put a hand to his chest. “Fear typically clouds all forms of judgement. Except survival. That’s… that’s why some say fear is a good motivator.”

Fear as a motivator. Where had he heard that before? 

“Oh lil’ blueberry, you’re zoning out again.”

Little what now-?

The Sage stared up at the Recluse, who was still leaning over him. If the sun was out right now, it would be shining behind him like a halo. 

“Were you giving me CPR?” It was a stupid question. He’d felt it. If he hadn’t been so disoriented he might’ve tasted it. Oh my god!! Now is not the time to think about tasting him!

“Do you want me to humor you?” The Recluse tilted his head. “Yeah. ‘Cause you were drowning.” 

“Damn.” He felt bit floaty, unlike himself. Maybe it was the proximity or the disorientation or the warmth or the fact it was Pure Vanilla leaning over him and he wasn’t perfectly aligned with the personality of Sage, but… “What a shame, first time having mouth-to-mouth contact and I wasn’t even awake for it.”

Both went red in the face. — or purple in Blueberry’s case. The Recluse dipped his head so his fringe hid his eyes, and then he began to shake.

“You are so…” He broke into peals of laughter, sitting straight and throwing his head back. “My witches, you’re almost worse than me!”

“…Almost?” In the next moment Blueberry Milk cookie was pulled up by his collar into a kiss that the Recluse was too giggly to keep going for long. The Recluse dropped him and swung a leg over to sit on his legs. “And here I was feeling ashamed of having the exact same thought. Mhm, you want me to do it again, Blue?”

Huhhhhhhh? 

Okay. Sure. That would get his heart rushing again. Suddenly the cold was completely gone, replaced with a feverish flush across his whole body. “Witches, how do I even respond to that?”

“A simple yes or no will do.”

Um. Okay. Well, he wasn’t Planning on kissing right now, but you can’t waste an opportunity like that with someone as elusive as the Truthless Recluse.

He nodded fervently. Recluse took the answer as a Yes and leaned back in to conclude their conversation.

Maybe this story doesn’t need a second make-out session, since it doesn’t add anything to the plot, that certain didn’t stop them. 

The Recluse pinned his wrists down, interlacing their fingers and squeezing their hands. Blueberry Milk could hear the  squelch of their hands, still soaked by the water. His free hand came up to tangle in the Recluse’s hair, admittedly not as soft when it was wet, but maybe that was just the minerals in the lake water. 

Despite the very recent fact of his drowning incident, it certainly didn’t seem like either of them wanted to come back up for air anytime soon. But at least he could taste it now! And it tickled.

Funny, when he said he was Made of Pure Vanilla extract, Bluberry milk was not expecting his saliva to be flavoured as such too. What did he know! Nothing! Nothing, but the scent and taste of the cookie atop him.

At least, until the Recluse pulled away abruptly, scampered back and cursed under his breath.

“Ah, why’d you stop?” The Sage sat up. “…Pure Vanilla cookie?”

The Recluse looked a bit out of sorts, staring at Blueberry Milk and then his own outfit. “I… may have lost control there. Sorry.”

Yeah, no kidding. Or did he mean that more literally? In which case…

“Oh, Vanilla, you don’t have to apologise.”

“But I do.” The Recluse stood up, gathered his clothes and staff and summoned a light to quick-dry himself. “I was possessed by an overwhelming sense of desire. I don’t believe that to be regular protocol.”

“It was two weeks ago.”

The Recluse blushed. “That’s different. I wasn’t going to kiss you.” He lowered his staff and unfolded his dress, “Unless you asked, that is. And you didn’t.”

“So… was that CPR thing—“

“To save your life.” He said before Blueberry Milk could continue. “Nothing else. The thought went through my head and I regretted it, as mentioned. I’m not sure why I humoured you. I have mentioned being slightly unstable, no? Perhaps it was a mood swing.”

The Sage’s heart sank. “No. You’re lying. You wanted this. I could swear—“ He trailed off. In fairness, the Recluse had been acting strange since he made it to the lake. Although perhaps he was misremembering. They Had been flirting a fair bit the last time they spent time together. But maybe… was that also just another mood swing? 

“I’m sorry, Blueberry Milk. Even if I do want this… You saw what happened. And it will happen again. We both know this much; there is a beast beneath the tapestry of this world. It’s all an elaborate lie. And sooner or later, he will catch us both in his jaws. I have to… to protect you.”

“Wait… I’ve heard this one before. You’re regurgitating a logic I’ve heard before.” He watched the Recluse get dressed as he wracked his mind for where he’d heard it before. Somewhere, something familiar. Ah!! Where did it come from?

“You cannot possibly believe you have a responsibility to save me.”

“I don’t. If you want to set the world on fire, I couldn’t stop you. But at the very least, I don’t want that blame to turn back on me. A cookie you mightn’t have ever met had once said before: I cannot be responsible for more suffering.”

Blueberry Milk felt it then. Familiar, head splitting pain. Feverish warmth, rain on his head, yet another memory… 

A beast. A beast? 

“Clusie, come back here… you mentioned a name once. Someone who wasn’t me, but you talked to them, and I could see it. Who was that?!”

The Recluse was already making his way back to the edge of the lake to look one last time at the surface, now stilled by lack of activity. “That’s nothing for you to worry about. If we see each other again, I might tell you. But by then it will have already been too late.”

“So tell me now!” Blueberry Milk demanded, “Mood swing back into weirdly talkative mode and tell me what you’re so afraid of!”

The Recluse finally stopped, turned and let the light illuminate his eyes. “You’re so persistent. Has anybody ever told you that?” He shut his eyes and sighed, “Fine. Get dressed, I’ll tell you what I know on the way back.”

*

A great many truths were told to him on that walk back. Some were easier to swallow than others. Blueberry Milk cookie would need plenty of time to process. But permeating it all came an understanding of the recluse’s sorrow; no wonder he treated Blueberry milk so differently. He could not even begin to relay it all right now. Maybe in another two weeks he will have drafted up a few charts to connect all the dots. Until then, he would make it back to his home, insist the recluse take his flowers and bow as a courteous goodbye.

The recluse put a hand to his shoulder.

“You once said my Truth was to protect others from the harsh light. Allow me to fulfil this purpose once more. It would be best for you.”

“I disagree. But I’ve already seen that you are very stubborn. Until we meet again, Clusie.”

“…” The recluse nodded, “Don’t look for me next time. If we must cross paths again, I would prefer it to be only if necessary. I do not want you to suffer the—“

“Your misfortunes, yes. I am well aware now, so don’t worry about me. I wish you and your flowers a safe journey home, my dear.”

The recluse only looked back once before he turned the corner. And back to the Peak he went. To the clouds. To the Spire of all Truth.

Chapter Text

Associate it with a lack of sleep, morning hunger or the looming prospect of having to leave his kingdom so soon, but Pure Vanilla’s morning sickness was getting worse. Though, today there wasn’t much to throw up that wasn’t already digested, so he was mostly gagging into a toilet for several minutes. 

Urgh. 

He got dressed and on the move as soon as he could plausibly stand upright, not even allowing himself the time to check if he’d fall over. He needed to get everything in order before the airship arrived to bring him to dark cacao’s kingdom. 

He’d drafted up another to-do list for his servants and offered them a half day if all the jobs got done before mid-noon. They were all very helpful, some even made food for the castle so nobody would be missing breakfast. He was going to miss the benevolence of his servants. Only a weekend, and yet it felt like it would take longer. 

His head was pounding like he was drinking hard liqueurs last night. Funny, considering he was baked with traces of alcohol in his saliva. If anybody should be waking up hungover it should be Shadow Milk Co— WoahwoahWaitHangOn!

That wasn’t a dream. I’m pretty sure he really did all of that with me.

He had, without any way of obscuring this truth, definitely slept with his beastly companion last night. Something akin to both guilt and excitement trickled through his stomach.

Uhm…whoopsie daisy?

He was… far too stressed to spare thoughts into the ethics of having bedded the Beast of Deceit last night. He simply wouldn’t mention it to the other heroes! Hopefully, it would never ever need to be brought up and he’d survive the weekend without any repercussions. Hm, another stroll around the town for shopping would do him well.

When he brought attention of his plans to black raisin, her little trainee dropped from the rafters and landed in a graceful bow, and then excitedly begged to join him. Black Raisin gave a nod to signal it would be okay, and then said she’d be keeping an eye out too, just in case.

***

Clouds were over the horizon again, despite how it hardly ever rained in the vanilla kingdom. Perhaps the island had just sunk lower than some cloud formations in the thousands of years since its establishment. But rain was good for the nature, and for his plants, taking another thing off his shoulders. At least there hadn’t been a lightning storm yet. The valley the kingdom was situated above didn’t make for lightning territory. At best the mountains might get a bit, but the worst of it would be the thunder which scared all the little cookies. 

The merchant which sold the shampoo he was raving about offered it at a discount for his majesty. He didn’t bother reminding them of how he’d abdicated his throne. More pressing matters were at hand. He still insisted to pay full price.

Next, a few more ingredients for the kitchen, since the staff would need to feed themselves in his absence. Fruit and vegetables vendors were happy to supply. Bless cultural diversity! He truly hoped his suggestion to poison Dark Cacao was never implemented into that whimsical little Jester’s plans. He’d curse himself eternally otherwise.

But speaking of which, it was nearing the afternoon and that same jester was nowhere to be found, not even in his peripheral vision or intuitive senses. 

Black Raisin and Strudel Cookie helped him carry the grocery bags. The village cookies who’d offered their help in tidying the castle helped to unload and give him a moment to set some of his plants outside in preparation for the rain. And finally, he found an opportune moment of quiet in the hall of audiences where he let himself zone out for a bit. He sat on the table and stared at the colourful glass windows, letting his eyes unfocus. Peaceful. Undisturbed. Completely unaware of the servant coming up the length of the hall until they tapped him awake. 

“Um, sir. There’s good news and bad news.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

-

The good news, they were on track to have all the preparations finished before mid-noon, and so a half day was almost guaranteed for his beloved subjects.

The bad news, the issues of yesterday were not yet gone. This time, the Spice clan from yesterday had returned in a far more public showing, going as far as to march up to the gates of the castle and demand an audience. He could even hear the commotion as they approached the front door to the castle.

“Call them into the hall of audiences right now. I’ll be there in a moment.”

He returned to the kitchens to make himself a cup of coffee rather than tea. Yes, coffee was much more bitter than tea, but it made him more focused than the latter. In order to understand what the Spice cookies wanted and convince them to leave his kingdom alone he would need to, as the youth say, ‘Lock In.’ (Sorry.)

He also put his hat back on, as he’d been lounging around with it off since they got home.

He joined the conglomeration and scanned the room with his staff. There was about ten of them, including the two central members — an older cookie with a scroll and javelin occupying his hands, and his assistant in crime who Pure Vanilla had suspected was responsible for opening the portal and granting them passage. 

He tried his best to keep his voice steady in spite of his sinking stomach. “Long time no see, Candy Apple cookie.”

*

He got all the Spice cookies to sit down eventually, allowing Candy Apple cookie to sit at his left hand, and black raisin at his right. He’d specifically summoned her because of her threatening aura, but also for her unparalleled observational skills. If anybody was looking sinister, she would notify him. 

Before he spoke, he had to cast another glance at Candy Apple cookie. Oh, the sight of her broke his heart.

One of her eyes was darkened, clearly swelling. It must’ve happened recently. Not long before she opened the portal, perhaps. That lead him down to the crusted jam around her nose. Using such magic had taken a toll. Her posture was hunched like she was scared to be in close proximity to him. If he reached out to touch her and grant healing, she would probably scream or flinch and lead the Spice cookies to throw up their spears at her defence.

Her clothes were ripped, yet to be replaced since she’d left the spire. Nearly a whole week in those garments… he couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable it must be to feel so dirty. 

And finally the most horrific detail, churning his stomach when he even so much as glanced in her direction; Her apples had been bitten out of. Large chunks, ripped without any thought besides brutality and cruelty. Just whose teeth, he didn’t want to find out. 

Her eyes, hardened like she’d seen a thousand horrors. Even if he hadn’t known her for long, and the brief period he did was a painful one, he could not stand for this horrible sight.

“I take it your master has called for you to scout out my kingdom, perhaps even threaten to attack it.” He started, addressing all guests. “And this is, without a doubt, thanks to my relation to the Beast of Deceit. He is not here, and neither will he Be here, for a very long time.”

A half truth, since those nurses were either keeping him under close supervision, or he would appear before the meeting concluded and mess this up. 

“I ask, what reason do you have, impeding upon my territory, aside than to deliver threats? I will not allow harm to come to any of you, but neither will I allow you to bring harm to any part of my kingdom. This is a land of peace and harmony, and so it will remain even with your presence.”

“You think we can’t sniff out your lies?!” One Spice growled, “Bring us the beast, or we will be forced to take action against your people.”

“For what reason, dear witches, would you be compelled to do that? I have no connection to the beast. None have spotted him in my kingdom, and none have reported suspicious activity relating to his magic… except for hers.” He pointed his staff at Candy Apple cookie, who remained staring straight ahead. “Your portal caused quite a commotion in the meeting rooms yesterday.”

“I’m aware.” She whispered. And then she mumbled something unheard.

“?”

“Nothing.” She said, more loudly. “I said nothing.”

Either, she’d been intending to thwart his meeting by causing a scandal — very in line with a Deceitful cookie. — or she already knew the Truth. Oh, her poor soul.

“Well,” his voice cut clearly through the whispers, “I propose a peaceful solution to you all: bring no harm to my kingdom and I will find him for you; he is still my enemy, after all. We do not need to be divided in the same goal.”

In a shocking turn of events, they agreed to negotiate with him about selling Shadow Milk out. He put in a request for more tea before the last of his servants disappeared.

Candy Apple cookie stayed blank throughout the whole thing, neither shocked nor upset about him agreeing to hand his beast right over. Where was her loyalty? Was she concealing it to survive?

“We don’t have all week, thief of Truth.” Said a Spice cookie. Impatience was starting to boil from his stalling, he could sense it. His heart was sinking at the thought that he might not get these cookies to leave until the Beast of Deceit was in their hands.

Then… 

All the noise of chatter was silenced to nothing in an instant with the sound of a tray with ceramics being dropped and shattered across the room. 

Pure Vanilla’s eyes went straight for the source and his heart couldn’t drop any lower: Shadow Milk, disguised as the servant girl, staring down Candy Apple cookie from where she sat at the left hand of Pure Vanilla. 

Candy Apple stared ahead at him, not with the joy of a minion reuniting with their master, but rather like a child seeing their parents again, standing in the threshold of their room after having spilled blood on the carpet.

Just whose blood was unknown. 

“You…” the servant girl whispered, her shallow breath coming back faster, “I thought he killed you.”

“And you were supposed to come back to save me.” Candy Apple snarled, “You should have, when you still had the chance.”

Pure Vanilla stood up and held his hand up to silence any rising whispers. “Everybody out.” He commanded, no reluctance or patience to his tone, “Everybody except the servant girl and Candy Apple Cookie.”

Black raisin stood. “Pure Va—“

“I know.” His tone softened only for her, “Keep the other guests in check. Do not let anybody in until I give the word.”

Everybody shuffled out of their seats and exited the Hall being careful to avoid the mess made by the servant girl. Eventually silence fell once more and the disguise was undone so Shadow Milk cookie could step forward. 

“Candy Apple cookie… I can explain—“

“Save it.” She hissed. “You’re not the cookie who saved me. You haven’t been in a long time.”

Pure Vanilla’s staff had decided at the worst of times to open its inner eye. His soul jam pulsed with anguish, regret. Understanding. 

“We didn’t mean to abandon you.” Shadow Milk pleaded, “We had no choice.”

Candy Apple tilted her head. Her eyes were still hard, even without the collection of Spice cookies around her, “You know, there’s a funny phrase people like to say when they’re lied to; I Don’t Believe You.”

“Now, Can-“ Pure Vanilla started but Candy Apple grabbed his staff to shut him up.

“I used to believe you had the power to do anything.” She explained, “So, why, Why didn’t you,” her lip quivered, “Why didn’t you save me?”

“I….”

“You’re supposed to be the all powerful, all knowing, all seeing eye of Knowledge and Deceit! So what was stopping you from saving me?!” Her frustration was just barely tamped down by her grip on the staff. At this rate, Pure Vanilla was practically powerless to stop her if she wanted to yank it out of his hands.

“I would’ve come back for you if I knew.” He whispered, “But I didn’t. I’m— Sorry.” That alone seemed hard to say, but what came next was restrained by too much pressure on his throat that it was nearly too wheezy to be intelligible, “I’ll take the blame for my oversight, as long as I get to save you this time.”

“You didn’t want to back then. That’s why you didn’t now.” She scoffed, “You never wanted to save me. You didn’t even care, for so, so long, what happened to me. And I let myself struggle under your will, All in the name of devotion.” 

“That’s not—“ His words caught as the rage resurfaced, “I didn’t plan for you to get hurt! I just wasn’t sure what to do— what was I supposed to do!”

This isn’t just about Burning Spice cookie kidnapping her. They’ve been meaning to have this conversation for centuries.

She yanked the staff out of Pure Vanilla’s hands and got up on the table to point the orchid at Shadow Milk.

“You can say you cared about me, that you sacrificed something, but we both know that’s only a lie.”

“No.”

“You tried with everything you had, not to be at fault for anything. Avoiding the blame no matter who you hurt in the process. And then it all came crashing down.”

“Please, don’t do this.”

“Well who!” She yelled, “Who caused that fire?! Was it me, holding the flame, was it Him, with the gas, or was it you… you and your ignorance. Hah! Ignorance, your biggest pet peeve as a Fount, only to be your fall from grace in the end.”

In the next moment, darkness engulfed and shattered the room’s lights. Looming over Shadow Milk was a grand illusion of a black creature, neon blue eyes scattered all over its body and fangs bared within what could be reasoned to be its mouth. 

It looked as if it couldn’t decide between forms, some parts resembling an insect and some a serpent. 

Pure Vanilla had yet to see anything like this. Clearly, it must’ve been some kind of trigger for Candy Apple, because she cowered back. It released a guttural rumble before a cacophonous scream came from his mouth. 

“You dare to think you understand, girl? You forget that I am the very thing that made you, gave you a place to belong, a purpose. Have you forgotten, or has that pitiful, powerless Spice kingdom filled your head with hubristic delusions?”

For a moment Candy Apple cookie seemed stuck, but recalling the object in her hands, she straightened up and pointed it like the light would shield her.

“I haven’t forgotten!” She said, voice afraid but no less resolute, “I remember it all now.”

“Hahaha!” He laughed maniacally, unfortunately familiar in its volume, “You, remember all of it?! Never was there a worse lie. You were a child when I took you in. You can’t possibly think you know the half of it.”

“You’re right. I was a child back then, I still am. But I’m not the same anymore.” She willed the light to get brighter, channeling all her fear into courage instead, “I’ve decided I’m going to leave your service, and then when enough time has passed, I won’t be a child anymore. And you,” She held the staff up even higher, “You won’t be able to control me.”

The illusion of the creature froze. Then it slinked back, retracting its terrible form until only the artificial darkness remained. The cookie body of Shadow Milk looked up. He was on his feet but appeared limp, bent an inch or two forward as if he were merely being puppeteered. “You should take that back before I crumble you.” That didn’t sound like a threat. No, his threats typically had a little rise in intonation at the end, a mocking lilt to let one know he was just trying to invoke terror. But this? 

“Candy Apple cookie. Give my staff back before he actually does.”

“I know what I’m up against.” Candy Apple said, “He won’t.”

“You can’t promise yourself that.”

“Are you calling me delusional?” 

He tilted his head to give her an incredulous side stare from where he was standing. He climbed onto the table and held his hand out. “Give me the staff.”

“No!”

“Give me the staff, Apple.” He wasn’t going to beg. He’d heard that tone. The beast was going to unleash much worse fates upon his whole kingdom if he wasn’t quick to stop it. Shadow Milk cookie had moods of anger, yes. He would yell, scream, roar. But words said so simply, so quietly, with no theatricality to them, those were the promises he would keep. And Witches pray one never finds out the length of his devotion to those promises, kept hidden in the depths of his heart.

The beast, seeming to enjoy this exchange, raised his hands, “Tick, tock! What will it be, star pupil? Are you going to make me responsible for more suffering? Aha, that’s all you want~!” He lowered his hands and the ground started to shake. “You don’t have much time now.”

Candy Apple cookie turned to Pure Vanilla cookie. “Do you trust me?”

“I— I can’t. You’re not… I don’t know. Please just let me handle this.” He reached out to seize the staff, “I cannot let either of you make this kingdom your battle ground.” 

Candy Apple looked one last time at him and nodded, “I need to prove I can do this.”

Unfortunately they waited a millisecond too long and Shadow Milk shot out a blast which she held back only for a second or two before it blasted her back and the staff clattered out of her hands. 

“Oops! Was that too soft? Pity, let’s try that again, only HARDER!” 

Pure Vanilla almost tripped over his robe to grab the staff from where Candy Apple had dropped it and summon a portal to teleport in front of her, deflecting the blast so narrowly it almost burnt his face. His magic held the spell at bay and he opened another portal so it would travel into the other realm and explode there instead. 

“That’s enough! Both of you!” He glanced back to Candy Apple. Her dough was cracking.

Shit. We’re in hot waters now. He threw a recovery spell and narrowly deflected another, smaller and more focused blast into the other realm. “Stay put, child. And You, oh my witches get the fuck back here!”

He ran after Shadow Milk, who was slipping into the other realm himself, no doubt to try a sneak attack. He leapt through the portal into the subspace, summoning out golden chains and firing them at the beast. One caught him around his throat and he gagged out another inhuman scream, layered voices clashing as he clawed at the binding. 

“I’ve had enough of your antics! You and your servant will NOT be making a mess of my kingdom to settle your feud. Either I bring her in here—“ he pulled at the chains to reel in his prey, “And you figure this out like adults, or I bind you Both in chains and leave you in my dungeons until I’m back from the Hollyberry kingdom.”

“Haha! Good one!” Shadow Milk still sounded like a monster, all that menacing tone dripping from him like ink. “You really think I won’t just break this stupid chain? You’re not stronger than me, idiot. I can defeat you with just a click of my—“ 

Bang!

The ‘smaller and more focused’ blast in question came right back to bite him in the ass, or the hand in this case. A hole shot right through the centre, spreading cracks up his arm.

He stared incredulously at the concerning situation of his left hand, almost doubling over as the jam poured out. “What the—?”

“It’s okay,” Pure Vanilla said with a little too much smugness, “It’ll grow back.” More golden chains shot out to restraint the beast and he threw his hand out in a final attempt to thwart them. He ended up with them wrapped around his body, binding his hands, his feet and his knees. 

Pure Vanilla pulled him back into reality, the tiles coming to meet the beast as he fell to his knees. 

Candy Apple cookie was flat against a wall, still injured and now definitely more scared. Shadow Milk was mid-growl when a firm banging on the door sounded and all of them turned their attention to the door.

“Shit.”

“Language, milky.”

“Oh You—“

Even louder knocking. “Is everything okay in there?! The great destroyer doesn’t have all day and night!”

“Everything is fine!” Pure Vanilla’s voice was unnaturally steady, and for once he hated how it sounded, “We will be back to schedule in a moment.”

Seconds passed. The beast threw back its head and let out a silent scream. “You picked a TERRIBLE time.”

“Who, Me?!! You started this mess, you do not get to blame me for your incompetent emotional regulation.” 

“Well let go of me so I can leave then!” He thrashed against his bindings. “If they find me here, All of us are cooked. If they find just you and her,” he gestured with his head, “they’ll think we fought and she won. Hailed a victor or whatever have you. And then they’ll go. But, find me here, her in crumbs and you… whatever you’re doing, they’ll throw a riot!”

Pure Vanilla gripped his staff. “I can’t just let you leave, Milky.”

“Unless you want to keep your kingdom standing, you really, really do.”

A headache split his temples. He was on the verge of vomiting with how fried his brain was. “Urgh. Fine! This is not over. Stay in the rafters, don’t you DARE hurt a single cookie. I’ll make the repercussions serious, do you understand?”

“Guys…” Candy Apple said, “-little help here..?”  Pure Vanilla undid the bindings and rushed to Candy Apple’s side. He ended up having to rip the apples off her head to reach the cracks there. The healing was swift. The company streaming back in was… painfully slow.

“She’s been crumbled.” Pure Vanilla explained, “Candy Apple cookie fought and won her battle.” He stole that lie from Shadow Milk, and he could feel the mixture of pride and scorn move through his soul jam. “All hail your victor. I do hope you treat her better than she has been treated. Otherwise I fear she might be… well, you see the state she’s in now, don’t you? It’s not good for a warrior to look so malnourished. Tell the great destroyer, he must put more value into her craft than her previous master.”

Ooo, scorn indeed.

He did his best at trying to push them back towards the exit, admittedly to no avail. Eventually he just had them sit down and discuss amongst themselves the terms of his supposed agreement to help them find the Beast of Deceit, who was still watching even now. He left Candy Apple cookie in the room to hopefully not be crushed to death and set off into the hallway, down the twisting paths and into the garden. Fresh air and, thank goodness, Rain. Not just for the atmosphere but because everything inside of the hall of audience was So stuffy.

The cold feel of water on his face let him unwind just a little before he spun heel on the beast who had rematerialised and held out his hands like he was expecting to be bound again. 

“And what, I say this with full force, the FUCK, was that about?”

Shadow Milk put his hands on his hips and shifted his weight to one side. “Look who’s telling me to watch their language. You’re one wrong move away from mouthing me off like a sailor.”

“Whose fault would that be? I’m not taking any accountability in this situation, Milky.” The rain might’ve been cooling him off, but his rage was burning unusually hot today, and if Shadow Milk didn’t answer for his actions, he was going to poke that damned other eye out.

“Excuse me?!” His eyes went wide like saucers and he threw his fists down at his sides, “you do not get to think of doing that to me. Especially not after offering to sell me out to them!”

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry.” He said quickly, “Still, why did you decide to appear right then and there, and not only that, but you also went to the lengths of… of..”

“What, so you mean you ordered everybody out, pitting us against each other one-to-one and you didn’t expect it to devolve into violence? In case there wasn’t space in that silly brain of yours, Burning Spice cookie is not a words person, and Neither is She! You should know by now, have you ever seen her sort out her problems by talking about it?!”

“I just thought You would be able to contain yourself.”

“Contain myself.” His eyes twitched and he threw his head back to bark out a sarcastic laugh, “You don’t understand me — never have, never will. Your expectations were wrong, and now you’re seriously getting mad at me f—“

“You almost broke my fucking window, Milky!” His hands were curling into fists at his sides. “You don’t get to destroy the world around you, just because you’re mad at someone!”

Shadow Milk placed a hand against his chest and turned up his nose. “I get to do whatever I want. I control more parts of this world than you know, Pure Vanilla! I’m not neither kind, nor patient or restrained, unlike how you seem to delude yourself in thinking I am.”

Pure Vanilla scratched at his dripping fringe. “It’s been Twelve Hours! What happened to you? Why are you so different all a sudden!”

For once, Shadow Milk flinched. “That wasn’t…” his voice went much quieter than the previous yelling. He growled, as if considering his next words. “That wasn’t real. I was… acting.”

“Acting. Really.”

He seemed to figure out his lie and sprang back into theatrical motion. “To gain your trust. Don’t you remember, I’m the Beast of Deceit, the one who deceives people! And you fell for it. Well guess what? You caught me!”

“Shadow Milk, come on.” His shoulders slumped, “I’m tired of this. Just say you’re sorry already.”

“Pfft.” And now he was laughing. Laughing hard. It sounded faker with every syllable.“Come on, you cannot be this naive! Even a common cookie would be more inclined to just banish me from their kingdom than to try and make me apologise.”

“Well I’m not a common cookie.” Pure Vanilla said, straightening up in a last ditch attempt to do absolutely anything here, “Either you apologise and we spend can some time apart, or I—“

“Still can break out of those shackles. Your threats are useless, little saint. You can’t save me, and by witches I wish you would give up trying.”

He really wasn’t going to budge. This could’ve been taken further, Pure Vanilla could conceive of a thousand ways to make this right. But all the weights of the week caught up to him and he dropped to his knees. “Fine. Go back to Dark Cacao kingdom. Stay, or don’t. I’m done convincing you.”

Shadow Milk smiled like he’d won. “That’s what I thought, Hm.”

For a moment there was just raindrops and distant thunder. Shadow Milk was already moving away. “You’re never, ever going to win back his favour, you know.” The storm crackled around them, and Shadow Milk looked as if he was about to ignore that and leave. But the curiosity burned, he could feel it. Curiosity burn hard. 

“I’ll bite. Who, exactly?”

Pure Vanilla stared up. The tears were flowing out of his eyes, but he didn’t really care. His voice was steady enough still to carry those departing words. “You Know who. The very start of it all. You spend every waking hour trying to prove your enemies right. I wish you would—“

“Stop.” Shadow Milk demanded. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Pure Vanilla could argue. But he was exhausted. So, he relented to the fantasy Shadow Milk was always perpetuating in his mind. “True. You’re right. I don’t know, so I can’t care. There, does that feel good?” He tilted his head, “Freedom. Now nobody cares about you. You can do whatever you want.”

Shadow Milk turned away. There was a fragile moment where he heard Shadow Milk’s breath wobble. And then he reached out a portal without any hesitation and floated through it. What was he doing? Not going home, obviously not. 

Well, it doesn’t really matter what he’s doing, does it?

Now he’s alone again. Truly, completely, all alone again.

And nobody is left to help him. Not in this world, not in the next.

Chapter Text

How long does it take for a room to catch fire?

Say, a candle was left too close to flammable material, maybe a spilled vase of flowers. Wool carpets tend to catch fire pretty quickly. After that, come the desks, the closet, the bedpost. 

Three minutes.

That’s how long it takes for the flames to rise to the ceiling and burn a hole through that too.

From there, who knows how long it takes for it to spread to the next room, and the room after that, and the room after that,

And the room after that.

Three months. She had lived in and out of the Fount’s home as an apprentice for three months. Her family knew vaguely that she worked for him, but never how. All they cared for was that he payed her well for her service. Obviously she hadn’t seen a penny of it until she was officiated into Master Shadow Milk Cookie’s service.

But for now, she was younger. Powerless. Angry.

She’d begged a few times by now, to make it all stop. The Fount always said he wanted to save her. But he never did. He only provided an escape from the horrible reality, but he never could quite change what was real. Only bend perceptions. 

It happened on a Tuesday. She knew because she’d marked it in her calendar for five months, or just under. One week anniversary, two week anniversary, all the way to week seventeen.

*

“There is no returning from this.”

She narrowed her eyes at the merchant. “Why do you care? You’re the one selling them.”

In the crowded streets, his voice was but a croaky whisper, and yet it was separate from all the hustle and bustle of the crowds. “Often times, customers purchase my goods without weighing the consequences. It is a reality I have come to accept,” the tapped his index fingers together “The mayor’s handymen… are not so open minded.”

She rolled her eyes and paid for the supplies anyhow. Even if they didn’t work, she would at least have put it all in place to end it all if it got too much for her. 

*

She had one last argument with the Fount before she set off on her quest. She couldn’t remember everything perfectly, and at this point she was too worn down to care.

Maybe, it wasn’t a fight at all. Just a few words exchanged. A “clean your room” or a “dinner is ready.” She was sitting on her bed. Staring at a candle she had bought alongside a bouquet of flowers. 

“Do we ever stop suffering?”

The Fount stopped in her doorway. “That’s a question I wish I could answer. There are pockets of peacetime, but I believe for mortal Cookies, there is always something to prevent them from remaining happy forever. Even so, I’m not caught up in paper work anymore, so if you’re finding things difficult I can always—“

“Always what? You haven’t done anything to help me!” She snapped. 

“I was busy.” He reasoned, “There’s really serious things happening in the world right now. I had to let the war take priority over one individual Cookie.”

Candy Apple Cookie could do nothing more than scoff, or sob. One of those two, “You lack so much empathy, it makes me sick to my stomach.”

“That would be the hunger.” He said simply, “Come have dinner, Appl-“

“I’m done waiting for you!” She yelled, pushing off her bed and shoving past him, “If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who Can.”

She already knew, of course. She’d heard whispers of the war the Fount had mentioned. Supposedly another virtue had gone haywire and started wrecking whole civilizations. That’s why the Fount was so insistent on his reputation: he cared more about appearing innocent than he did about the Truth of his moral purity. What a hypocrite, she thought, constantly criticizing others for trying so hard to hide their flaws, and yet he was no different. 

But, if there was one thing she knew about the virtues, it was that they could be prayed to. She used to have a shrine in her room for the Fount of Knowledge. She used to pray to it, every night, to come save her. Seems he’d listened enough to give her a second location, but was too caught up in his duties to fully remove her from the first. 

No problem, if you won’t do it, I will.

And maybe being a fallen virtue would remove the ability to answer prayers, but she couldn’t say until she tried. 

So, being a disciple of Knowledge, she researched, deduced, bought the necessary equipment and returned to her old home to set the empty shrine up for a new purpose — a testing ground for her hypothesis. Everybody was asleep, except her. 

She took her mother’s vase from the kitchen and placed the flowers inside: the very same bouquet Black Sapphire had bought her all those moons ago. She’d kept the receipt and reread it a thousand times over. It was all she knew about flowers. Shame, the Fount used to like gardening so much before. 

She knelt down before her new shrine and began to pray. She lit the candle using a lighter she’d stolen from the kitchen. A special candle meant exactly for praying to the respective virtue. The merchant warned her against it because he knew what it meant to call upon a beast whose only goal in the world was to tear it apart. 

But, devoid of options, she’d take anything over this torment. And so she prayed. Prayed until the candles burnt out. Until the wax dripped from her fingers and until it was no more than a stub with a hardly lit wick. She was about to discard it when she noticed the trail she had left. 

There was red wax spilled on the carpet. 

She once insisted it was an accident, some knocking over of a candelabra. And yet, tonight, it could not have complimented the white fluff of the carpets more. A trail of blood, one might see in it.

And yet, the supposed Beast of Destruction had still not come to rescue her. If her dad ever woke up, discovered the mess she had left… 

Oh, he would be furious. 

Fury, a word that denoted lightning and fire. How come, when embodied as a person, the first thing she thought of was always a man with the same beard as her father?

Because, nothing can encapsulate the rage, loud and heavy in the air, better than being screamed at for a mistake any clueless child would make. She could paint the scene in her mind as she followed the trail with her eyes. Hunched over, yelling like he was trying to make the chandelier come down with his voice. At least if it dropped, would he feel any modicum of guilt for it?

Would Anybody ever feel a modicum of guilt for what they had done to her if the cord snapped under their weight?

Maybe that’s why she wanted to grow up so bad. Even despite the lack of responsibilities, childhood kept all the worst of her memories in its pockets, like a jacket she couldn’t take off unless someone did the work for her. And here she was, climbing the infinite ladder of time, every step heavier than her last, every decision to reach for the next prong made of steel and adrenaline. 

Hungry.

She was hungry. Not in the mansion, no. Right now. Even falling through the vast expanse of her memories, she registered it spanning across her whole life, a sort of emptiness that she was always clawing and overextending to fill with something else. Attention, material fulfilment, anger, vindication.

*

“I know exactly what your heart needs!”

An annoying little cherub in the garden of delights had said that to her once after she tried one of her tricks on him. She was merely here with her master and his other servants to play little pranks on the Bringer of Happiness. But what the cherub had said to her had always stuck with her, somewhere in the lost sea of her mind.

“Oh yeah? Guess then, I bet you can’t get it right!”

The cherub’s eyes shut with utmost excitement. “Love! Everybody needs love! And you—“ He got too close to her face, and she could see the matching starvation behind those heart shaped pupils, “You need love so bad it leaks into all things! How tragic, how enticing! I would love to watch your story play out, but you’re merely a visitor…I hope you find it soon, regardless!”

She took one of her shiny red apples and tried with all her might to crush him under its force. He flew away before she ever got the chance. 

*

She didn’t know what he meant back then. She’d already lost her memories, by that point. Shadow Milk Cookie was making the sugar angels dance over hot coals. Coal, she had placed about two on the altar for symmetry.

She threw the remains of the candle at the ground and pushed the vase aside in a fit of frustration. She screamed her anguish out, loud enough to be heard through the walls, loud enough that maybe, just maybe, it’s shrill sound would tear the chord. 

She could hear the rumble of her dad coming down the hall. The last of her will was used to lock the door so she could cry without his hands grabbing her. The candle’s flame touched the carpet and the flowers, but she didn’t stop it. 

The door started slamming against her back as her dad banged and tried for the door knob, yelling profanities until she crawled away. And over to the rising flames she went, to grab the vase. It was still mostly in tact. If nothing else, she could preserve it. 

Before the flame reached the beside cabinet, she rolled it into her duvet and opened her window to drop it down. Hopefully that was enough to protect it. Her mother didn’t deserve her mercy any more than that, but alas it was a beautiful vase. 

When the closet caught, she considered opening the door. The rug was, after all, not walkable, so it wasn’t like he could get to her without hurting himself.

Haha.

Hahaha.

Oh, mercy be upon me and my foolish doubts.

The Beast of Destruction had heard the whole prayer. And he was answering it, at last.

How long does it take to break down a door?

When the hinges are old, and the lock is steel. It doesn’t really matter how long it took, it could have caught fire for all she cared. But it didn’t. He managed to reach her before the flames caught on her mattress and— Was he dragging her out?

No. 

No, he wasn’t going to help her after Everything he’d done.

She tore herself free of his grip and started running. Wax. Wax on the carpets.

She’d walked the length of the whole hallway with those candles. There was a trail of red wax everywhere. Woollen carpets stained with her blood.

It caught fire just as easily as the flowers, as the bedpost, the ceiling. 

Her clarity of the event cut out when she reached the foyer and she heard the chandelier snap above her.

*

Rain. Cold, contrasting the burn.

And there above her, the demon she’d come to know as her master. Shadow Milk Cookie, still dressed like a scholar and crying out the final vestiges of his care for the mortal world. But he was holding her in his arms like a baby, eyes wide, and she hoped they’d soften in relief when she whispered something, even despite her thin voice, gone from all the screaming.

Instead, he looked more heartbroken than she had ever seen him. His chest heaved, was he sobbing? She couldn’t tell, with the rain and the hardly lit sky. Black Sapphire was at his side. He looked as if he wanted to carry her to a warm bed and tell her everything would be fine in the morning. The tears were much more obvious, as his face was a painting of restrained sorrows.

“Do you understand it now?” A deep voice rumbled. Emerging from the direction of the flames engulfing her old home, a tall red Cookie with a threatening axe of burnt umber and gold. “I said, Fount, that your pride shall be your downfall. I never imagined it would come in this form, which makes it oddly more entertaining.”

“What did you do!?” He growled. His voice was already broken. 

The Beast smiled, his yellowed teeth terrifying in their ferocious sharpness. “She came to me first. She bought the candles, the flowers, she even saved the vase. What do you think, Fount: Still my doing?”

The Fount didn’t have to answer that question.

Ignorance is a malady, he used to say, there is nothing more dangerous than someone who turns away from the truth in favour of their own delusions. 

“You can’t place this on me,” the Fount said, a final attempt at Hope, “You brought war upon the land. I had to place that as my priority. This was your doing, Beast.”

The Beast of Destruction shrugged. “She’s your apprentice. You might have nothing to do with her decision, but how are you going to convince the rest of them?” His axe gestured to the crowds around them, villagers and photographers. “All they know is that she works for you. What do you think they’ll say, knowing her whole family is dead and you were spotted kneeling over her body, just inches from the scene?”

“You monster!” He dropped her body and shot to his feet to tackle the beast, only held back by Black Sapphire Cookie’s vicelike grip. “I’ll end you!”

“Mhhhh.” Burning Spice Cookie pouted mockingly, and leaned in, “Your pitiful threats don’t work on me, Fount. We’ve sung this song before. Accept the futility of this world, of your actions. Nothing will save those you love; you’ve already forgotten them once, who says you won’t do it again?”

*

Candy Apple Cookie was pulled out her awful visions by a cold bucket of water. Of Laffi. Her eyes dripped tears like a faucet not properly shut off. 

She couldn’t make sense of anything. Her location, a blur of red rocks and sand, and the smells all blending into something heavy on her nose but ultimately flavourless. 

She had nothing left to gag out. Her body wasn’t even trying anymore. Now it was all just nausea and pain in her temples that wouldn’t go away. To make matters worse, her apples were chewed on. She could feel it in their lack of weight.

She’d struggled so hard after Burning Spice Cookie had announced her punishment for allowed the others to be seen. Fought and ripped and yelled and been dragged under by the searing pain of the memories she’d just finished processing.

“So, I take it you’re done now.” 

Urgh. The same deep and prideful voice, never to have changed even despite all the eons gone past. Same weapon, same stare, only that his chest was devoid of its soul jam.

“You’ve seen the whole vision. I can sense it in that hopeless glare you’re giving me.” He huffed a laugh, “Are you finally ready to leave that yapping clown now?”

“Fuck you.” She spat. “You and all your followers can burn up in the oven.”

He wasn’t angry, he closed his eyes and nodded as if he were acknowledging her pain as a predicted reaction. “Give her time to rest. It’s clear this little warrior is in need of it. And something bland like mushroom stew. We can’t have any more vomit on the stairs to the arena.”

*

When she faced him again, she’d rested up, been fed and washed, and above everything, felt truly, completely, devoid of anything but empty contempt.

“I no longer ask that you join my ranks.” He said, “I only ask that you help me find him.”

Really, was that all? And he used to say she was one of them now. She didn’t feel it. Feel anything, really.

“Once you find him,” will you crumble him? No, I don’t care what happens actually, “what will happen to me?”

The beast’s mouth perked up. He sat on his sandstone throne like some kind of king. Everyone around him seemed to worship him just the same despite the loss of his soul jam. Even in his worst moment, no one could ever compete with him. Except his other half, maybe. No wonder he was so focused on battle. The emptiness mentioned by that cherub probably plagued him too. 

“What happens?” He repeated, “I crumble you. Unless you can be of other uses to me…?”

That was a prompt for her to beg his mercy in advance. “No.” She said instead, “That’s fair. It’s a fate I’m long overdue, isn’t it?” She was speaking mostly to herself, but to some extent her will crept back in as she was forming new words. “I’m powerless to stop you. You’ll dispose of me and everybody will move on. That’s okay,” She turned her eyes back up to him, “At least keep me alive long enough that I get to watch you crumble my old master. I deserve that much, don’t I?”

Burning Spice Cookie cocked his head side to side, “You, little Cookie, would have done wonderfully as a servant to anybody else.”

Chapter Text

He skipped dinner. He wished he could have skipped everything else. The witches were unfortunately never so kind as to grant him that luxury. 

The airship arrived after the sun went down and he boarded with some of his kingdom’s citizens. He elected clotted crème Cookie to watch his kingdom for the weekend — not ideal given his attitude but he was better than a stranger. Black Raisin stayed so he could have insider info in case something happened. They all exchanged pleasantries and shook hands and whatever else. Pure Vanilla cut the conversations short. He waved goodbye to all who came to see him off and then made a b-line for his sleeping quarters. 

His mind was far too tired to remember much else. He just crashed into the bed and didn’t return to the waking world until the sun was high and they were approaching the ground. 

His pillow was stained with tears. And again, his head was pounding. When he checked his soul jam, who could’ve guessed? The light was dulling. He winced and his head fell back onto the soaking pillow. Shadow Milk was right. It was turning in tandem. And so easily, too. 

Somehow, he was assured this was merely a temporary side effect from his lack of self care. But simultaneously, he was beginning to understand why Shadow Milk looked so… afraid, when he pointed out the switching sides. Well, it’s going to turn back now for sure. Maybe a glass of water would do us some good. 

One glass of water, and he could process the remaining hours of his day before he got on the airship.

The rain soaked his whole body, and he didn’t care. He cried until his eyes itched. When he returned inside, the first thing he did was grab a mug and down two cups of water, not caring for how it spilled down his chin onto his clothes. 

Next he returned to the meeting room to drag Candy Apple Cookie away from the fighting and nod solemnly at Black Raisin Cookie. 

He ran a bath for Candy Apple Cookie in the spare bathroom and returned to his room to peel his clothes off and run himself over with a towel before crashing into his bed and sobbing until he passed out.

When he came back to the waking world, his headache was worse and he was still naked. 

Eventually he dragged himself over to his closet to redress and pull out a spare servant’s uniform for Candy Apple Cookie — simple, white long sleeve dress with a ribbon to tie around her waist and a waffle cape. He knocked and told her where to find the towels and then handed her the clothes when she emerged wrapped up in the biggest towel. 

He let her change in private, returning to his room to find a few letters left on his desk. 

The first, a notice that strange blue liquids were found all around the castle and have been promptly removed to prevent a fire hazard, the second another notice by some minor faction in the crème republic about the renovations next week. And finally, a letter sealed with dark wax, his name scrawled in a familiar curly handwriting. 

Oh? 

Candy Apple Cookie entered before he had the chance to open it. Seems she’d managed to heal her own apples, all by herself. So, she knew how to use white magic?

When he questioned she shrugged. “Master Shadow Milk was teaching me before he gave up on me.”

He felt it would be rude to press her on that matter, especially after such a fraught conversation. After everything, he was satisfied to simply let everything lie under the carpet, but Candy Apple Cookie went on to explain anyway. 

She went through the story of her father, how her parents treated her and her sisters, about the school kids that she thinks she might’ve killed, the fount’s brief phase of taking her in and teaching her white magic, how he cared more for some stupid war than he did for her, and how eventually she got sick of it all and decided to set her house on fire. And it certainly sounded in line with everything he’d witnessed from Shadow Milk’s side, save for his neglect of Candy Apple Cookie.

“Did he at least treat you better after?”

Candy Apple Cookie was sitting on the stool by his vanity, arms and legs crossed. “For a little while. He took me out on more missions, let me help with more stuff. He said I was his favorite little minion. I think it got to my head and he…. Well, he stopped being so enthusiastic when he realized my obsession wasn’t going away anytime soon. I think he expected me to grow up and get over my feelings for him.”

“I don’t know why he’s surprised you never did.” Pure Vanilla sighed. He was mostly saying that to validate her. He understood both sides of course — it’s difficult to let go of that nugget of validation you get from having someone like you so much. But it was a one-sided affair, and it was a slow poison for both regardless of the excuses. “He was wrong for that, for letting you live in that state of constant hunger.”

“Right?! Wait, shouldn’t you be siding with him?”

“Why would I?”

Candy Apple paused to think. “I just thought… because he liked you so much… and you were so nice to him… I don’t know. I don’t know, I guess—“ she stumbled through several phrases before sighing and clapping her hands, “I think you’ll disagree with me because everyone does.”

Impressive, where did she learn to articulate her feelings? Certainly not the spire… unless that was the timeline convergence.

“And why do you think that?”

“Because… Sapphie never agreed with me. We always fought about everything.” She paused again and scowled, “He saw me as a brat and nothing more. And then Shadow Milk used to be so distant when I brought up my suggestions.”

“And you took that to mean disagreement?”

“He’s a lot more happy when he agrees with something. Though usually he just dismisses me.” She clutched the ties of her dress, “I don’t get it though. After everything I’d done for him, why was he never…” Proud of me?

Pure Vanilla sensed her sorrows, stood up and offered her a hug. She pulled him in and squeezed him tight enough that he might’ve suffocated if not for the fact she was tiny in comparison to him. 

“I’d do anything for him to smile at me… so why was he always happier around you? Even Black Sapphire Cookie got more from him than I did.”

Pure Vanilla, riddled with exhaustion and despair himself, couldn’t find an answer that would satisfy her. A happy answer. 

“Well, even if you’ve spent ten thousand years in dedication to evil, I’m proud of you.”

“Y-you are?” 

“For your dedication, your effort. Your passion for what you do. You seemed to love your work, and that’s the important part.”

He could hear her groan. “Not really, I still feel like my best moments were merely side plots. I’ve never been the protagonist in any story I’ve played in.”

He combed his fingers through her hair, curling the ends, “It’s never too late to make a new story. You can be the main character in your own narrative, you just have to believe in yourself.”

She let him do this, even rested her head against his chest. “Nobody would want to read a story about me. I’m not enough to be a villain, and nobody needs another stupid hero.”

“I’d read a story about you.” He affirmed. “And you’re wrong. Everybody needs a hero. Even a flawed one. Especially a flawed one.” He let go and saw the gears turning in her head, and smoothed her fringe down. “Every story is important to someone. A single candle is enough to start a house fire, isn’t it? That’s how being loved is too, I find. Even a small amount can make the world seem brighter. It’s hard to explain, I’ll let you think about it.” He raised himself back to his full height and stared at the setting sun beyond the passing storm clouds. “Your accomplices are waiting downstairs for you. You’ll find a way out of there, I promise.” He took her hand and led her back down the stairs towards the hall of audiences. “Oh, if you manage to escape the Beasts’ servitude… My kingdom is open to all Cookies, and it’s the number one place for learning White Magic. Just a small recommendation from its former ruler, and I’ve got plenty of spare bedrooms.”

—

It took a lot of convincing but eventually the spice clan departed and he sighed to himself. Black Raisin Cookie saw them off and he was left in an empty hall of audiences. The hour of departure was upon him soon. And still he found himself in the confession booth, crying again.

Oh. What ails you, my dear?

His forehead was pressed to the wall while his arms hung limp by his sides. “I don’t know what to do now.”

What you need to do is get your luggage so you can board the airship. Don’t spend your precious minutes on the conflicts that don’t involve you.

“Oh but they do!” He said, "Whether I chose to get involved in it, or someone dragged me in. They will look for him and they will hurt my people to do it.”

The light of Truth softened in his chest like it was trying to relax him. It only seems that way because you want to be the one to fix this. I assure you, so long as Shadow Milk Cookie doesn’t return to this kingdom while you’re gone, Candy Apple Cookie will find a way to keep the Spice Clan at bay. She’s a smart girl, Pure Vanilla Cookie. You should have faith in her.

He knew. Of course she was smart. Faith, yes, he should have faith in her. 

…

Alas, there was something else on his mind. Something not about the spice clan, or about Candy Apple Cookie. 

The outburst, yes. I as the Light of Truth have seen the descent. He is falling apart and you cannot save him.

“But that’s the thing. If we… our powers collided, he might be less scattered. It’s stupid and irrational, but maybe if he weren’t so afraid of our soul jams’ powers… we could come to a compromise. And I know, it might not happen. But I have to keep my mind open to the possibility.” Because if they didn’t, they might stay in this half-way point forever, turning and turning and never reaching equilibrium. “I’m not sure why I feel like this is the only way.”

You’re afraid of loving him, is that it?

He inhaled. “It’s not that I’m afraid of it, just that I’m afraid that… eternity is a long time to wait for someone. I don’t know if I can help him. There’s a lot of unanswered questions within me at the moment, and considering how busy I will be in the following days, I don’t know if I’ll have the time to visit the other realm and sort things out. I don’t want to lose him either.”

Ah, but you won’t. Shadow Milk Cookie is someone who keeps his promises. And, he said he’d burn the world around you before he finished you off. You are strong, Pure Vanilla Cookie, and so are your friends. If the world needs protecting from his wrath, you would all heed the call like you have for thousands of years. Trust yourself, Pure Vanilla Cookie.

He exhaled, and inhaled again. Sighing out his doubts, he nodded to himself. “Alright. Thank you.”

He snuck out of the booth and through the hall and back up to his room to write one last letter. This one, left for the beast in case he ever came back. A warning in case it was too late for them. No. Not a warning. An offering. The beast of Deceit said he didn’t deal in violence, but he loved his grand displays of magic and talent just as much as he liked winning. And so, the clock would be set. 

Back to the airship, he was sitting on the main deck sipping a cherry special they had exclusively on board, or that’s what they said. Some kind of sweetened mulled berry juice. He liked the taste of it, maybe a bit too much. His head was lighter when the air ship docked on water. 

He checked the bill for his drinks — oh dear — and paid for the full bottle he’d drank of the stuff. 

Dark Cacao was there to greet him when he stepped off the ship. He found himself smiling despite all the stresses of yesterday, exchanging all the pleasantries like a practiced performance until they were out of sight of most of their company, walking along the great walls of the cacao kingdom. Dark Cacao had leant him a fluffy shawl to protect him from the cold. What a wonder it was to wear those oversized shawls again — this one smelled like coffee instead of bitter cacao, but he didn’t care, the nostalgia made it comforting. 

Through all the cold, his insides were warm from the brandy. Speaking about their kingdom’s affairs was nearly too easy. How long would it take for his half-sober tongue to let slip the news about two beasts having entered his kingdom and somehow left with minimal damages?

“There is another thing I should tell you.” Dark Cacao said when they were out of ear shot from the watchers, “About the Cookie who approached me and begged me to send for you. About his father.”

Oh, Here we go. 

Pure Vanilla held his tongue, waiting for Dark Cacao to continue. 

“This patient has reportedly had long periods of going missing or passing out completely. They hardly ever wake, their symptoms read as healthy despite their wounds, and yet whenever they are asleep they tend to twitch and spasm, as if they were having nightmares. We’re not sure what it means. My own investigation reveals unfathomable power within him. I think you should see for yourself…”

No. Crumbs, Will our soul jams be alright? 

“Eh, you think so?” He said, raising his hand to his soul jam, “Maybe he would prefer to just rest, no?”

Dark Cacao cocked a brow, “The mysterious visitor would disagree, I think.”

“Oh. Mysterious visitor… did he say his name?”

“Black Sapphire Cookie.” He said, “He said his father was a being of great power, but his mental state was what Black Sapphire Cookie was most concerned about. He also made a special request that you be the one to see to his father’s anguish. Are you… friends?”

Pure Vanilla was a bit too tipsy to try forming an elaborate half Truth. “You could say that.” He shook his head and relented to the reality of what was being asked. , “I can try. It’s my duty to ensure happiness for all cookies, is it not?” Even if they’d refuse me in a heartbeat.

They approached and entered the hospital, conversing with the head nurse before she led them down a hall to the room where they kept the ‘patient.’ 

Pure Vanilla couldn’t guarantee himself the stability to remain composed if and when he laid eyes on Shadow Milk Cookie’s body. Hell, if he could even make it through a conversation without breaking down it would be a miracle. 

Dark Cacao Cookie entered first to see that the patient was still there, and woke him to ask a few questions. From what Pure Vanilla couldn’t hear, it was a lot of mumbling on Shadow Milk’s end.

When Dark Cacao finally returned to give him a nod that said he could enter, all the nerves twisted and went taut as he braced himself for whatever was behind the screen separating the hall from the room.

His mouth twisted itself into a smile against his will, too big for his face, a mask to conceal how truly terrified he was of messing this up. He turned to the nurse firstly, “Is he awake?”

“Hardly. But don’t let that stop you.”

He blew out a breath and approached. His heart was buzzing. Sure enough, the blue dough of his beastly companion stayed there under the robes. He was sweating, oddly enough. His eyes were shut, the ones in his hair concealed. His fingers were round and his nails hardly sharp at all. A few of them looked bitten, but he didn’t ponder that.

The shower from two nights ago had managed to wash away the remaining scars, though his dough still held those lighter patterns where the spice had burnt him, the wound in his side was gone. For a moment Pure Vanilla worried about whether the speed at which he had healed was suspicious, and asked the nurse if any light magic had been used on him. 

“A slight amount. After the patient’s seizure we brought in a specialist for light magic who tried removing the scarring on his dough to no avail. It seems his magic just took a while to settle in, from the look of him now.”

“Agreed,” Dark Cacao said, “He was much worse off merely half a week prior.”

Heh, that would be my involvement. So, his mental state was the problem here?

“May I be granted privacy?” The staff and Dark Cacao nodded and left him alone. As soon as quiet settled over the room, Pure Vanilla unlatched his soul jam, settled it on the shelf with all the equipment and leaned over him.

“Shadow Milk, are you there?”

No response. His soul jam, not pulsing behind him, sensed no presence of consciousness either. So how had he heard mumbling before?

You’re making a mistake.

The voice chilled him to his core with merely the sound in his head. It can’t have been the light of Truth. So then, was this Shadow Milk Cookie, using their bond to communicate?

I will skip the niceties, seeker of Truth. Whatever delusional path you think you’re following, trying to bring the light back into the soul jam of Deceit is a worthless effort. Leave the beast to rot here. You’ll all be better off for it.

“Are you… are you insinuating he’ll die if I do?”

There is no other choice. Look at his soul jam, and look at yours. The amount of Truth outweighs the amount of Deceit. If you fuse now… who knows how long the world will take to fall apart at the imbalance.

“But I cannot let him stay here… if he wakes up again, won’t it cause more pain to leave this unresolved?”

If you’re scared for your kingdom, you can take his soul jam with you. Wait for it to balance out. Become the beholder of all Knowledge. Fight the spice swarm on his behalf. But you won’t do that. We both know you won’t do that. 

Pure Vanilla looked between the face of the Cookie lying out cold and their neck, where the illusion hiding his shimmering soul jam was just barely faltering. Because he wanted it to be clear, for Pure Vanilla to reach for it. But he wouldn’t. 

“If I wake him up and talk to him, will you try to punish me?”

The voice could’ve laughed. I can’t stop you. I can only wait for your decisions to lead you to your downfall. Just a warning for ya, he’s not exactly happy with you. He’s going to be very difficult to convince of all those silly, silly things you want so badly to say. So, take his power before he can stop you, and save the world like you always claim.

He could feel it, the presence of claws on his shoulders, even if it was merely an illusion. Pure Vanilla Cookie, you’d place the world over just one Cookie too, wouldn’t you? 

He turned his eyes to his soul jam. Dark, but not faded of all its Truth. He smoothed his hand over the soul jam of Deceit. Sparks of Truth rolled amongst the darkness. But it could snap back into Deceit at any moment. Unless he took it. Claimed the full power. Claimed all the strings that came with it.

“I’m willing to trust him.” Pure Vanilla answered. “I will see you when the party is over.” He leaned down to kiss Shadow Milk’s cheek. “May your dreams be sweet, I’ll see you when you wake up.”

He exited into the halls and let his shoulders drop. “I’ve done everything I can. He will be alright by the time we return home. Come, let us have something to eat now. I’m starving.”

Chapter Text

The Sage could feel the weeks dragging by, only stopping briefly to become cloudy before fading right back into clarity and leaving him feeling so much worse than before. 

The Recluse’s avoidance had taken its toll on him. The monotony of life was starting to grate on his nerves too much. If he didn’t get drunk off his ass tonight and do something that would ruin his reputation in some way just to feel something, he might just go insane. He could practically FEEL his nails scratching too hard whenever he itched anywhere, trying to draw jam just so he could confirm he was still alive, somewhere in that body which he watched move through his days like nothing was wrong.

Who cares what the Recluse had said. Yes, monotony might be a gilded cage, but at least freedom had some element of mystery to be fascinated by. 

Hence, he found himself at the pigeon’s nest inn, sipping their new cherry brandy special like there was no tomorrow.

He didn’t have to look to know when he slinked up to the bar. Even despite all the chatter and singing in the background, he could still make out the low rumble of the Recluse’s voice. 

His heart twisted. Even from across the bar, he hung onto every word. How humiliating I am, gosh.

An hour went by where he drank, talked to acquaintances, drank even more, and couldn’t stop turning to glance at the Recluse. The sweet and sharp taste of brandy on his lips had him daydreaming despite the lonely hour of night. 

And then, something miraculous happened.

 He was up at the bar speaking to the bartender, about to order a new drink when he noticed the Recluse shuffling cards. He looked over for a single moment, and Blueberry Milk Cookie’s heart soared even from that single millisecond that the Recluse’s eyes were on him. 

He pulled a card out of the deck and placed it face down. It slid across the bar and the Sage caught it under his glass. A two of cups. He looked up and the Recluse was already leaving. No. Not now!

He followed the Recluse, reached for his hand and as soon as his fingers brushed the Recluses wrist, the world went quiet. The Recluse spun heel, eyes wide. The Sage was about to pull back his hand, thinking the Recluse was offended, but his hand snaked around the Sage’s wrist and pulled him along, not to the exit, but instead to the hall with the bathroom. No, into the bathroom. The Recluse pulled them both inside, locked the door with an unusual frantic clumsiness to his hands and sighed.

“So… are you going to explain why you—“ 

Recluse didn’t let him finish that sentence, shoving him against the sink and pinning his hands — one above his head and the other somewhere to his side — and kissing him until he’d forgotten the question entirely. And all the other questions.

Clearly, both of them had been drinking hard. He could taste the sweet cherry on the Recluse’s tongue. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss. It was even stronger on the roof of his mouth. Despite the Sage’s sensitivity to touch, it was the Recluse who broke first, groaning against his mouth with a desperation he couldn’t have ever imagined from him if it wasn’t happening this very moment.

Was he going to let either of them talk this out? Or would it just not matter? After all, the Recluse was shockingly good at kissing, it made all the wooziness of the drinks that much stronger. 

“Oh— Clusie—mhm,” He shoved them apart just long enough to get his sentence out, “Why did you come back?”

Recluse’s first answer was just more kisses, tightening his hold on Blueberry Milk’s wrists. Thankfully he pulled away to actually answer the question after a moment of catching his breath.

“My instincts got the worst of me, Sage. I couldn’t torment us both any longer. I had to come see you.” He dropped his hands and leaned them on the sink. “You have no idea how difficult it was to resist it, this eternity.” He leaned his forehead against Blueberry Milk’s and made a restrained sound, not unlike a puppy dog wince. “Witches, what have you Done to me?”

“Clusie… I was— I don’t know what to say. I wanted to see you just as much. But, didn’t you say it would have grave consequences?”

Recluse’s hands drifted to the Sage’s sides and squeezed lightly, “Does it look like I care about the consequences right now?” 

Blueberry Milk could feel the sporadic beating of both their hearts. The back of his neck was burning. “Not at all…”

“Mhm. Kiss me again, Sage. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about the whole night.”

Well, if that’s how you’re going to play this. He pulled Recluse in by his collar, and they were going at it again. The Recluse’s hands were straining not to roam all over him, but it seemed his resistance failed him when Blueberry Milk pulled his shirt to untuck it and guided the Recluse’s hands underneath. He broke the kiss just to gasp at the feel of his dough, cold and malleable. How adorable, the way it made him so weak he had to lean his weight on the sink and push them both further against the wall.

To be fully honest, the hard glass of a mirror was probably not the best surface to be squished against while this was happening, but who was going to stop them now?

The Recluse planted kisses under his jaw and Blueberry Milk unbuttoned the top of his shirt so he could let Recluse’s mouth trail down. He leaned his head back to provide as much space as possible — just in case he wanted to leave marks. If they were at home right now, he’d let the recluse go anywhere he wanted. How delightful it would feel, having his tongue roam the entire expanse of his dough.

Hah.

Haha.

Oh goodness, has Clusie’s voice always sounded so good?

Ah! This was overwhelming. Did he really miss Pure Vanilla cookie this much, or was it the drinks talking, and— hey wait why did he stop!

“Are you crying, Sage?”

“H-huh?” His voice broke pathetically, a sign of how uncomposed he’d allowed himself to get, “No. It’s normal. Don’t you get that too, where your water when you’re… you know.”

The Recluse stared up at him, and his eyes were watering too, what was he even talking about? 

“Alright. I was just making sure.” He leaned over to take some toilet paper and wipe his saliva off the Sage’s neck. “You’d be so beautiful if I left a little souvenir of myself on you, don’t you think?”

“Haven’t you?”

“Hm.” He leaned back in. 

“Heh,” he screamed as the pain jolted him out of his haze, “Witches mercy, you don’t have to go that hard. Your teeth are already sharp enough as is.”

The Recluse licked the jam off his lips with a smirk. “When one sin damns you to hell, why not commit a thousand?” 

The Sage furrowed his brow. “Fair point, but it’s easier to redeem just one mistake than a thousand.”

“Mistakes. Sure, Little Blueberry.” His hand was drifting to the Sage’s belt when someone knocked on the door and startled them both apart. 

The Sage clutched his chest to relax his stuttering heartbeat. He caught his breath and looked up at the Recluse, “Phew. What are you gonna do about that?”

The Recluse appeared conflicted between turning invisible or just dying on the spot. “I’ll go. One moment.” He waved his staff and a hole opened up in the air, a portal of some kind. The Sage could glimpse eyes in the space between here and the other side. “Meet me outside the bar.” He hopped through and the portal shut. 

The silence had never been so loud. It had also never shattered so quickly with yet another knock. 

“Give me a second, oh my Witches.”

*

The night air was cool on his dough. The outside of the bar was filled with Cookies smoking breadstick cigarettes and sipping on hard liquors of their own. The Recluse was leaned against a lamp post, and his eyes softened when the Sage finally emerged. 

“So uhm… I hope you’re not expecting me to kiss you in front of all these strangers.”

The Recluse smiled. “Of course not. This is your town, take us anywhere you’d like.”

Oho, what a roundabout way of saying he’d like to be brought home. Or maybe, somewhere out in this fresh air would be more romantic. The park was usually closed by this point… when you’re damned to hell for one sin…

“Come then, my Doll.” He took the Recluses hand. “I’ll show you the world, if you want.”

They climbed over the stone walls of the park, avoiding the gates entirely. He dropped over the edge of the wall rather ungracefully while the Recluse landed on his feet and got right back up. The lamps that lit up the park were still on, more for seeing the nature from outside than anything else. It was his suggestion to the mayor that they leave the lamps on through the night; and then it became his suggestion that they make the lamps solar powered to save electricity. He might’ve bragged a little about this while they explored the park’s main path to save face after that embarrassing attempt at landing. 

“You must like this town a lot, to want to put so much effort into it.” Recluse said, “I admire that dedication. It’s annoying how happy you are, and yet some part of me is… jealous.”

“Really? Aw, Clusie.” A rosy flush bloomed across his cheeks, “I like it when you’re honest.” He said, pushing his hair behind his ears.

“I don’t know why I keep telling you things like that.” Recluse’s steps faltered just before they stepped onto a bridge overseeing a stream. “I’m supposed to be the biggest liar of all. But you bring out a part of me that I struggle to fully let go of. It’s as if… you soften my despair, by a margin.”

The Sage took his hands and walked backwards onto the bridge. Cattails and lilies swayed together in the motion of the water, wafting their floral scent all around. “Truth and Deceit don’t have to be enemies you know. They can mix, make contact, or lie together, entangled, maybe even hiding within each other.”

A corner of the Recluse’s mouth perked up. “Is that a fantasy of yours, Sage?”

“Whatever could you be talking about now?”

“Truth, Deceit. They’re not fully seperate and yet they will only bring confusion when mixed. Why, tell me, is your sense of curiosity always overriding your common sense?”

“Well, I’m…” The comforting scent of petrichor had him thinking he could be honest with a liar. How imprudent of me, “I suppose you don’t seem like you’re going to hurt me. And I know lies tend to make their faces pretty — you’ve done a wonderful job of it — but you’ve never felt to me like I couldn’t trust you.”

The Recluse’s gaze dropped. He stepped closer to pull the Sage in by his hips, and then pressed his mouth gently to the Sage’s cheek. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Let me.” He said quickly, “Please.”

He pressed another chaste kiss to the Sage’s mouth. His breath stuttered, “You won’t be able to keep this world the way it is.”

Blueberry Milk could hardly see anything but that star shaped marking on his forehead, and he pressed his own fork shaped marking to it. “If the world burns… So what? You’re more interesting anyway.”

The Recluse’s fingers dug in to his sides, “You cannot possibly mean that.”

“Who knows. You said it would be chaos and confusion.” He wrapped his arms around the Recluse’s shoulders, “I know what I’m doing, Clusie. Just let go of your worries. Trust me. Maybe trust yourself too?”

Whatever words the Recluse was whispering died on his tongue as the Sage closed the inch of space between them and felt his knees go weak. Maybe this love would bring him down, even so the Recluse was getting dragged down with him.

*

They found themselves in a pink flower garden, brushing their fingers over the petals and telling each other secrets no one else had ever heard, wrapping the stems around each other and rolling around like they were young lovers, and this was their first time.

He’d compared the Recluse to a bird numerous times in his diary: he sang like one too. Even when his voice broke it was pretty.

There was no reason for their night to have gone on so long, but the moon was high over them by the time they were both too tuckered out to do more than lay in the grass, all their vulnerabilities shed.

“I want you to stay this time.” Blueberry Milk said after a long silence, reaching over to interlace their fingers. “For more than just tonight. Stay forever.”

“Until the word burns down?” The Recluse turned his gaze up to him, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with mirth, “I suppose there’s no reason not to, right?”

“No.” Blueberry Milk Cookie smiled, “There’s a clock on our heads now, isn’t there?”

The Recluse hummed in affirmation and pulled him over. “Do you feel it yet? It’s freeing to know nothing you do matters.”

Yes. Freeing, but terrifying. A world of such great joy kept on a clock, all for his greed. It’s seemed nearly familiar. Ah, he wouldn’t ponder it tonight: whether he knew or not wouldn’t change anything. 

You wouldn’t defy fate again, would you?

Chapter Text

They had an early dinner in calm silence. Being in the presence of Dark Cacao brought him much more peace, certainly accredited to being in his big strong arms burying himself in the fluffy blanket (literally fluffy, made of some rare sugar bear) in Dark Cacao’s bedroom. Dark Cacao Cookie was not someone privy to physical affection, but he made an exception for his closest friends: and Pure Vanilla was regarded as just being ‘Like That’ amongst their friends, so it’s not like the servants side eyed him when they found him wrapped up in the covers… anymore.

The new generation of Cookies must’ve been brought up a bit more open minded than they had been a century or two ago. Then again, their secrecy used to make everybody all the more suspicious too.

As he had learned, shame is contagious: Confidence provided a sort of invisibility to all actions no matter how embarrassing.

Dark Cacao fixed a few other matters such as paperwork and a few orders to those he was leaving in charge before he joined Pure Vanilla in bed.

Now, he loved Shadow Milk, that much was obvious, but that didn’t take away from how much he also enjoyed being used like a teddy bear by Dark Cacao (and probably Hollyberry, pretty soon) since they were both bulkier than him.

“Did you start eating more?” Dark Cacao asked all a sudden, curiously squeezing his stomach.

A little flutter went through him. “Oh… yes, actually.”

Dark Cacao hummed sleepily. “I am proud of you, my friend.” And then he buried his head in Pure Vanilla’s shoulder and continue to snore.

That validation should not have made him smile so hard. Alas he couldn’t help himself, even falling asleep with it.

For once his dreams didn’t consist of any beasts. Tonight, he dreamt of old friends who’d long since disappeared from earthbread, their names also lost.

He sat in a pastoral field, one he recognised as being beneath his kingdom. The Cookie sat beside him had long flowing hair like his, only darker, wavier, the texture of wool itself.

“Do you like it?” Pure Vanilla asked. “I wish you could’ve been alive to see what it becomes.”

“It’s a beautiful place.” The other Cookie said. From the loose robes, it must’ve been a traveling pilgrim, in search of the very same Truth as he. “Indeed. Wouldn’t it have been so nice if we could share a cup of tea under this sun? It nearly makes you miss the days where we were young.”

Pure Vanilla watched a creme sheep approach and held out his hand to pet it. “Well. Maybe if timing hadn’t been an obstacle, I would’ve gone looking before…”

The other Cookie smiled and rubbed their hand on the sheep’s coat. “It’s not like you to hold regrets, healer Cookie.”

“Please. My name is Pure Vanilla Cookie.”

The pilgrim nodded. “A beautiful name for someone who once ruled a beautiful kingdom. Is there anything you can’t achieve?”

“Beauty isn’t everything. Some of the most pristine and awe inspiring sights have been found to hide great prices beneath their splendour.”

“Wouldn’t We know it.”

A silence descended between them. Wind moved through the grass and Pure Vanilla realized he’d never asked the name of that bygone Cookie who he’d likely never see again.

When he turned to ask, they were already looking at him with a sad smile. “Don’t. You’ll forget again when you wake up. Instead, ask of something else. Anything at all.”

Pure Vanilla reached to touch their shoulder, to test if this was real. Real, in a dream sense. The ground could crack at any moment. “Is it… it, something I have to fight for, or something I must wait for?”

The Cookie smiled and watched the creme sheep wandering away from them. “I take it your question pertains to love. I suppose it’s a bit of both, isn’t it? Everything you want is right in front of you now. First you wait, then you fight. Alas, You should be going now. Hopefully, you’ll dream like this again.” They offered their hand and Pure Vanilla shook it.

“There’s a thousand timelines. Something strange happened that confirmed that fact to me. Maybe there exists a universe where we do get to drink tea together, under a sun like this.“

Alas he knew, no matter how hard he looked, he’d probably never get to see them again. Long were the years that had aged his dough, and even if he remained looking as youthful as he had in his prime, it must’ve been years since he’d glimpsed that particular face.

It was like that with a lot of his friends. They’d meet, grow old, crumble away. Pure Vanilla honoured their passing and he’d learn to live without them.

Still, it took a lot of courage to keep his heart open to the mortal world when every loss was a cut to the heart. It was no wonder his friends ended up in the coping mechanisms they did, when so much was lost after the dark flour war.

So, why keep going at all? When all would fade to nothing, what purpose did it serve to care for the world and its inhabitants, why did none of his friends ever turn to those awful force that the beasts wielded?

It was all in their teamwork that they survived. Solidarity, as that one beast would’ve been known as.

Maybe these powers were never meant to be wielded alone, perhaps they were always destined to come together. The unity of their magics would conquer the world. And then, Dark Enchantress would be defeated.

The wave of resolution and understanding that flooded him was enough to wake him from his slumber, where Dark Cacao Cookie was already awake and polishing his famed chocoblade. When he noticed Pure Vanilla had woken up, he nodded and set it down.

“The airships are ready. We can leave at any time.”

“Nmbhm. Gimme a moment.”

They used the same airships to travel to Hollyberry as they had to travel to here. Pure Vanilla dozed off on the top deck as soon as he boarded.

Most of the journey over land was done in the early morning and a good portion of late morning too.

Dark Cacao joined him eventually just to make sure he wouldn’t catch a bird in his mouth. Witches bless his big coat, which he placed over Pure Vanilla Cookie as a blanket. The rest of the journey moving toward Hollyberry soil was spent staring over the edge of the boat taking in the sights from above.

The spring was settling in nicely upon the rainforest, where the trees looked lively as ever (again, no doubt thanks to restoration of Hollyberry’s Light of Passion.) The oceans of sparkling water didn’t carry any berries just yet, alas it’s not like they’d be running short.

A chaperone was there at the landing to greet them and lead them off the ship up to the Hollyberry kingdom. They were told their luggage would be brought to the palace while they would be brought right to her Majesty.

The bustling streets colored the whole world more vibrant, pie smells floating about the air from every which way, pastry and berry mixing on his tongue. He was already hungry again. Hungry, and ripe with nostalgia.

“It’s been a while since we visited Hollyberry’s family, hasn’t it?”

Dark Cacao nodded. “For me, perhaps less time than you. We do live not so far from each other, after all. Only about a few hours travel on foot. Though I take it you are… relieved we didn’t walk.”

Pure Vanilla straightened his posture, which he realized only then was uncharacteristically hunched. “Oh you know. I’ve been sleeping odd these nights. But don’t worry about me. It’s nothing I haven’t been able to handle before.”

Dark Cacao raised a brow but didn’t press further. In fact, he’d been eyeing Pure Vanilla with a new layer of curiosity since he left the hospital. As long as he does not try to ask at dinner. He’d hate to tell the truth in front of Golden Cheese of all Cookies.

OR, you could just lie to them. It’s always been so easy before.

His brow twitched. No. I won’t tell them lies, but nice try.

Hollyberry Cookie was already out and about, her armor gleaming in the sunlight. Her shield had been restored by her awakening, and it shone with the newfound confidence of its owner. “Oh, you two! Come here!”

She lifted Pure Vanilla off his feet and goodness, she’d gotten stronger. It’s a very good thing he’d chosen to eat before or else she’d have cracked him in half.

“It is very good to see you again—!” He managed to say. She put him down and patted his sides.

“You’re feeling less flat than you’d been before heading off the best yeast. I knew you could do it.” She fist bumped him and pulled Dark Cacao Cookie over, “and what about you, old chap? Any news on your kingdom affairs?”

“Ah, yes. The pale ailment is has disappeared, and my subjects have been looking more relaxed as of late.”

“Well that’s amazing news, isn’t it!” Hollyberry cheered, “Golden Cheese Cookie has told me she was planning to restore her kingdom’s former glory. I think she would love to see you both as soon as possible.”

Golden Cheese Cookie was waiting in the gardens, talking with one of her many subjects, Smoked Cheese Cookie.

When they noticed, he nodded and sank back with a bow.

“Oh my friends! It is so good to see you again. How long has it been, feels like centuries!”

“Yes, we all missed you so much too, Golden Cheese Cookie.” Pure Vanilla said, opening his arms for a hug. “Your radiance is as bright as it’s ever been.”

They all exchanged hugs with one another and took their turns explaining the situations of their kingdoms. Pure Vanilla offered to go last, mainly so he had as much time as possible to figure out how to forgo the mentioning of any beast Cookies without explicitly lying.

Oh, so you Are falling back into Deceit again. Adorable!

He looked up at the sky. I’m not going to ruin their happiness. Let them have their fun.

Alas, the light of Deceit would giggle at his pointless attempt to delay the inevitable.

Apparently, Golden Cheese managed to snag the soul jam right off burning spice Cookie’s chest, and his soul jam was sitting in a vault in her kingdom. She was initially planning to fuse them, but she had decided to wait until they could all convene beforehand in case something went wrong.

Hollyberry was spending more time with her family, along with hosting this weekends celebrations and sparing with that dragon fellow of hers at least once. She spent a lot of time talking about that dragon, actually.

Eventually they all moved inside and Hollyberry gave them a tour of their rooms. Just like the vanilla kingdom, the Hollyberry palace was a maze of pink corridors and rooms that were quaint, though in true Hollyberry spirit they were very heavy on their decor.

Dinner would be at 7, giving them all plenty of time to explore the palace ground or the markets.

Pure Vanilla decided for today that he would stay on the palace grounds, scouting out all the exits, entrances, the shadowy corners and the statues.

He wasn’t sure what had turned his heart in this direction, but it was getting unnerving, not feeling the presence of his other half even the slightest bit. He was truly gone, completely missing from the scene.

Was he just planning to strike at dinner?

Or perhaps, was this all some kind of silent treatment. He thought of the voice he’d heard in the hospital, of the voice in his head now. Both belonged to Shadow Milk Cookie, right?

So why did it feel wrong?

Even as he strolled through the garden, he knew something had to be off. Night was on its way, and still no sign of Deceit, not even the statues or the flowers or the critters in the trees.

Was he just paranoid, or was something wrong?

His stomach rumbled. Definitely just paranoid. Sigh. How long would dinner take? Maybe he just needed to pretend like he had before, that everything was fine. Even though lying to himself and everyone else felt like returning to an old religion proven false, it would be for their protection, and once it was over he would figure it all out.

Yes, go on. Put the mask back on.

He startled and used his staff to scan the surroundings. Still no presence of Deceit aside from that threatening voice.

Wait.

If Shadow Milk wasn’t here, communicating to him through their soul bond, and hence making it thrum with his presence…

How was the light of Deceit talking to him?

He yanked the soul jam off his clothes and its sparkling blue was almost taunting. Pushing all the remaining light to the surface of his soul jam, to hide the darkness beneath that surface level of Truth, a mutually beneficial move that could only end in disaster.

Look at you, so calm. I do wonder where your Truth went in my place~!

He clenched it in his hands. “You won’t get the best of me.”

It sparkled like it was laughing at him. Heavy footsteps came down the path. A servant calling him for the opening event of the Hollyberry feast.

Even the witches must’ve been getting fed up with the length of this day, because sitting in his place at the banquet table, his body was begging to be allowed to go back to his room where there would be no masking, no clinking metal and far less smells enmeshing across the whole table. Socializing was a wonderful hobby, but tonight he simply wasn’t up for it, even when the first course was served and he was less hungry and paranoid.  His fingers drummed on his staff, his leg was bouncing and his vision couldn’t stop flicking between the people and the shadows on the ceiling.

Hollyberry wasn’t fooled by the time the main dishes were coming out. She pulled him aside, away from the dining room and into the hall.

“Pure Vanilla, you’re looking on the edge of a breakdown again. What’s wrong?”

“I’m— fine. It’s not a huge problem. I’m just… thinking a lot. I’m sure it’ll be okay though.”

Hollyberry squinted. “Issues with a friend..?”

Damn. How did she know!

“You could say that.” He started. According to Hollyberry‘s description, her beast was not so different from the beast of Deceit. Not intending to kill, only to keep them forever in their domain. If anybody was available to admit the truth to, it would be her. “Actually, he’s a bit more than—“

“Your majesty.” A servant came rushing up. “A new face has shown itself at the entrance.”

Hollyberry turned her attention to the servant. “Do we have a description of this new arrival?”

“White Hair,” they gasped, “She has white hair, claiming she needed to speak to Pure Vanilla. Her invite looks official, except that she isn’t on the guest list.”

A shiver went through Pure Vanilla’s soul jam. No, it couldn’t be…

“I’ll go see this stranger myself.” Hollyberry said.

“I’ll come too.” He said, running to match her pace.

“No, stay. If this stranger intends to hurt you…”

“She won’t.” He insisted, “I can defend myself if I’m wrong.”

Hollyberry let him follow after her, down the maze of pink and red until they reached the main gate and the stranger’s visage came into view.

White hair, a crown of flowers on her head to contrast the black streaks, and most striking was the dress that shone like the moon and matched the sparkling butterfly wings at her back.

“That’s… I can’t believe it.” Hollyberry Cookie whispered under her breath, “White Lily Cookie, is that really you?”

Chapter Text

Black Sapphire had a dream last night. A dream of laying his head in his mother’s lap, letting her hum softly along with the birds. The sun was on their faces, a gentle river coursed somewhere nearby and the grass was ethereally green, nearly blue. Tiny candy shards came up between the blades of grass, flowers yet to bloom. 

“Mama, will I get wings like you someday?” He asked, tiny voice alerting her out of her trance.

“Oh, it would be only inevitable!” Her cheerful voice responded, “after all, your little bat wings are already growing in. I’m sure you’ll be learning to fly in no time!” 

He had no reason to doubt her. Doubt itself was not something he knew was possible. He didn’t see his father everyday. But when he did, he told stories using what he called the magic of imagination. Creativity, make believe, storytelling. His father cultivated all of this within him, letting him make his clay sculptures by the river banks and chalk paintings on the pavement of his academy. He told Black Sapphire about the whole world, promised him one day he too would get to see its magnificence. 

Well, here he was, in front of the Silver tree where both his parents had been sealed for eons. See the world he had, though a majority of his life had been spent in service to the great Shadow Milk Cookie in the spire. Separating the Fount, the Beast, and the man who had raised him was like splitting an egg. Pieces of the whites still clung to the yolk, not to mention the membrane, a part of the white nearly inseparable. 

Sigh. 

“Does it ever hurt?” Asked the girl beside him. Sugarfly Cookie, who’d helped guide him into the fairy kingdom, spent just a little too much time in his company and eventually let him tell her the whole story of how he ended up here. He was, needless to say, scandalised when he woke up resting his head on her lap. 

“I was too caught up in being his servant to even think about why I looked like him. I chalked it up to coincidence and prided myself on our similarities. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when I meet my mother.”

Sugarfly put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to meet her. She can be quite possessive at the wrong times… I think it’s better to just skip the paradise of delights.”

“Heh, nonsense. I need all the help I can get.”

“Are you ready?” Silverbell asked. “It’s not wise to keep her majesty waiting.”

Black Sapphire huffed a laugh. “You’re only saying that to create a sense of urgency. If she can make me wait a day, she herself can wait a few minutes.”

Silverbell rolled his eyes. Clearly he wasn’t too pleased with how friendly Sugarfly was being with him, still. 

“Alright, alright. You coming with me, Sugar?”

Sugarfly blushed and took his hand, gaining him a highly amusing death glare from Silverbell before he lead them both into the chambers of the new Guardian.

White Lily was as beautiful as she was fractured. Going off what Black Sapphire remembered from the glimpse he had off a balcony, she was paler than she’d been on the steps to the spire, though maybe that was just from lack of sunlight and her dress’s new colour. Mystical wings sprouted out from her back, and her hair was tainted with streaks of dark colour, contrasted by a crown of lilies atop her head. The upper half of her dress was silver, like a chestplate. It bore the symbol of Solidarity. Resting against the leftmost shelf was a blade, thick and heavy. She held her staff by her side, a long silver rod with a gigantic glowing lily on its end and the soul jam of Freedom looking suspiciously bright. 

“Your majesty,” Silverbell bowed and so did the rest of them. He introduced them both — and their jobs, unfortunately, — and White Lily’s eyes narrowed on him.

“I’m not following master Shadow Milk Cookie. Anymore.” He said quickly to relax her doubts, “I came to you for support.”

“What kind?” Her voice was authoritative, yet gentle. If she was afraid of ruling her kingdom she did a good job of hiding it.

“Well,” he told her the rundown of his situation, about Candy Apple Cookie who was stuck in the desert and of the danger Shadow Milk might pose if he didn’t find her quickly. “Where you come into play is that… Well it’s not that I don’t place trust in your old friends, but somebody needs to account for the danger Shadow Milk Cookie poses — as his most loyal servant, I can certainly attest to his great power. Pure Vanilla might know his tricks, but he can’t do it alone. I hear you were capable of outsmarting him?”

White Lily nodded, “I got lucky when I caught him off guard. I doubt I could do it again if he saw me coming.”

Black Sapphire tilted his head left and right, “It’s almost impossible to catch him off guard. Wit alone isn’t enough: you need power. However…” Black Sapphire’s heart pounded. “I had a few dreams while I was traveling here, and when I was standing in front of the silver tree… you wield the soul Jam once belonging to the Knight of Solidarity.” 

Silverbell squinted, and Sugarfly raised her eyebrows. Seems they were putting the pieces together. “I’m assuming you’re aware of the connection they shared. It’s cruel, but I can remember my master freezing up when the beast of Silence was mentioned in passing: I believe you could use that freeze response to catch him off guard.” 

White Lily stared bewildered at him. “You think I should go That far?”

“For a Beast, there is no Measure you shouldn’t take. Just convene with Pure Vanilla beforehand: he might’ve been able to do something about Shadow Milk’s awful temper.” He slid an envelope across the table to her. “If anybody questions, show them this. I told the boat crew to stay docked for another day, so you can board and request they take you straight to Hollyberry kingdom.”

“What is this?”

“And invite.” He showed his teeth and an unrestrained grin, “You’re going to crash the party for me. Pure Vanilla Cookie will be there, and so will all the other ancients. If there is anywhere Shadow Milk will want to strike when the clocks hit twelve, it would be where Pure Vanilla is.”

“Why not his kingdom?” Sugarfly said, “I thought they were enemies. Wouldn’t he take the opportunity to hit Pure Vanilla where he can’t cover?”

“No.” Black Sapphire said, “knowing him, he’s probably already stuck some kind of scheme inside the vanilla kingdom in secret. He’d want his performance to be where everyone can see it — especially Pure Vanilla.”

White Lily opened the letter and read it through. “You forged this but… how did you know hollyberry’s handwriting?”

“I studied the cultures of a lot of different places over my multi-millennial life.” He placed a hand on his chest as if he were reciting poetry, “And I might’ve snuck into her castle when I was spreading a rumour about her granddaughter. It’s fine, she doesn’t know, so she can’t care! Wait a second…”

White Lily turned her gaze up to him. “Yes?”

He shut his eyes and waved his arms around dramatically.  “No, It’s nothing. Ahem. You might be wondering why I’m going to such lengths to betray him like this? Well, I had an epiphany—“

“We don’t need to hear it.” Silverbell cut it abruptly, “We all hate the beasts, especially the ones who were personally hurt by their actions against his late majesty.”

Black Sapphire’s eyes pried open to glare at Silverbell head on. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Do you?”

“Only when the incentive is tempting.”

Silverbell pulled and arrow from his quiver. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of incentives for you to shut your mouth.”

Sugarfly raised herself to her feet. “Boys, boys! C’mon. Now isn’t the time.”

Black Sapphire continued to hold his stare. “Who said I needed to shut my mouth to be quiet?”

“Alright! That’s enough.”  White Lily said, tone firm despite its neutral volume. “I’ll go to the Hollyberry kingdom. But I’m doing this to protect Pure Vanilla Cookie, and I’m leaving Silverbell and the Silver knights in charge of running this place, so if anything suspicious happens, it’ll be delivered right to me via word of these moonstones.” She held out the stones in her palm. Being the son of a former god of all knowledge, he already recognised the fake sheen. Seems the fairy technology was still improving despite its stunted development in comparison to the rest of the world.

“That is fair enough, my lady. Oh, I’m sorry. Your Majesty.” He stood up to bow. “You have my utmost gratitude.” And yes, he knew that meant he was in a life debt to the fairies. Anything for Candy Apple Cookie.

-

A few more things ironed out and he was set to go before sundown. The walk from the fairy kingdom all the way through the forests of beast yeast meant he’d need a few fairy knights as his companions, though once he’d made it to the spire of all knowledge — its ruins, anyway — the knights returned to their kingdom and left him to roam the rest of the journey himself. Thankfully, his microphone still worked, and he still had all his magic. And, because White Lily Cookie was kind enough to provide him proper food and water for the trip, he wasn’t weakened by exhaustion or hunger either. What being a charismatic little charmer does for you! 

But speaking of the spire, he’d settled in the inn after the knights left, to rest his feet before he continued to the paradise of delights. The torn down sign dissuaded any visitors but once inside it became clear the place was still at least half taken care of, patches in the ceiling were fixed up and the bar wasn’t half as dusty as when Shadow Milk had first returned to fix it. 

He sat in one of the booths and sighed. 

Maybe it was the lingering magic of deceit, or the solitude of the place, but his head was finally beginning to ask itself why he was even going to these lengths for someone who might be dead. 

It was all so pointless if he didn’t come back with Candy Apple Cookie, so then what was he on this journey for?

Someone shuffled into the seat on the other side of him. A Cookie with a long purple cloak accented by gold. Fortune Teller Cookie… but wasn’t that-?

“Pure Vanilla Cookie?”

The Fortune Teller shook his head. “Merely an illusion. I am no more Pure Vanilla Cookie than this bar is serving drinks.”

Black Sapphire looked over to the bar where someone was indeed scrubbing at a glass. Some random projection of a bygone Cookie who’d met his doom at the bottom of the tallest tower in the spire like hundreds before him.

“Well, what are you doing here, Fortune Teller Cookie?” He asked, “I thought you disappeared when Pure Vanilla awakened…?”

“Some memories are kept in this spire. The souls wonder the lost fog. For me, it is merely the magic of deceit playing upon your mind to grant your greatest desire to tempt you further into its web. Even without its master it begs for company to breathe life back into its ruined walls.”

So, his greatest desire, manifesting in front of him, was Pure Vanilla Cookie of all things? “I don’t believe you.”

“Then you’re good for not having lost your head. But I’m telling the truth for once. If you don’t believe me, I can’t offer you any other explanation to satisfy you. Any lie would just taste bitter. But what you seek is not Pure Vanilla himself, no. You seek guidance. A guidance only he could’ve given you.” He pulled out a deck of cards and began shuffling.

“Oh please, I hardly knew him. He wasn’t a friend to me, and if you think he could have been, you’re clearly out of your mind.”

The Fortune Teller hummed, “What a familiar rhetoric. Funny how that never turns out to be true; those who reject friendship do so because they are thinking more about the prospective pain than prospective joy. Even those who know what they want will do so with it in mind.”

Black Sapphire could say he didn’t need friends, and yet he would only be proving Pure Vanilla Cookie right by saying so. After all, his master had said similar, that nobody could understand him and those who claimed to were merely naive or foolish. It chilled him to the core how much they had in common.

“So you see.” The Fortune Teller split the deck and spread out the cards. “I’ll give you a reading, priced only at your time and your open heart.”

He knew his master very well. He used people’s inner monologue to twist their beliefs until they burst. And Pure Vanilla was his opposite, his mirror. He’d use the painful truth and Black Sapphire could do nothing to refute it. 

“You know you have no choice but to see the light, Black Sapphire Cookie.” Fortune Teller Cookie took his hand, “Ask the cards a question, and let your intuition guide you towards the answer. You must pick three cards.”

“For three questions?”

“No, just one. We can use five instead, but three should give us all we need.”

He did as he was told, hovering his fingers over the cards until his gut tingled until all three were laid out in front of him. 

“Alright. The first card represents you and your desire.” Fortune Teller Cookie turned the card over: “Nine of wands. Seems you’re close to reaching what you seek. Your goal, to find Candy Apple Cookie, it is almost within your reach. Alas, that does not come without its struggles and burdens. Allow yourself to rest every now and then, or else your path will be blocked by exhaustion and worry, which brings us to your next card; what holds you back.”

Funny how his next planned destination was the paradise of delights. Maybe it was all in the cards after all. Funny, he used to think those cards were lying on purpose.

“Five of cups.” The Fortune Teller said, “hm. You’re not going to like hearing this.”

“Is it bad?”

“Depends,” he said, “Five of cups denotes grieving a loved one, or feeling guilt and sorrow for a past situation. I’ll let you make your own meaning of it.” Hm, that was certainly in line with his feelings already; after all, between possibly losing his sister and remembering the awful crimes and actions of his own father against everyone including his supposed children, adopted or otherwise, he truly had never been more alone than this very moment. He really hoped White Lily was bringing Sugarfly to the Feast. If he ever made it back to Shadow Milk Cookie, that is.

“You hold a lot of doubt in your heart,” Fortune Teller said, “I’m nearly surprised it didn’t show up as your block card. But let us move onto your third; what must be done in order to overcome your struggles.” He turned the final card and hissed. 

XVI. The Tower. 

“Is that…?”

“It’s a unique card to get in the place of advice. It means there will be a lot of unexpected changes coming your way.” The Fortune Teller looked up at him, “Let’s just say, you’ll have to bid farewell to your old life in a lot of ways. The tower typically foreshadows major loss, whether that be of a loved one or a career. But that doesn’t mean everything is doomed. Prepare yourself, try not to let fear control you, and you’ll be handed the reigns of your own destiny in exchange for your old life.”

Black Sapphire looked over all the cards and tried to put them all together. “So… does that mean she’s…?”

“You won’t know until you see for yourself. I don’t think the cards are telling you to give up, either way.” Fortune Teller Cookie took up the cards and added them back to his deck. “Fear, isn’t that funny? So much of this story has been about Fear. So Sapphire, why don’t I renew your faith: tell me why you love Candy Apple Cookie.”

“Huh?” He heard the door creak but nothing entered the bar, so perhaps it was just a trick of the magic. “Well, she’s my closest associate, I basically raised her like an older brother. She’s my sister. I’d give the world to get her back.”

“Family ties are often not enough. What do you appreciate about her?”

“Her… She’s smarter than she gives herself credit for, and her determination is admirable. She’s incredibly dedicated to her cause, and if she put her mind to it, I think she could achieve such amazing things… she was a prodigy at magic, good at fooling people with her childish personality. She makes use of the way people underestimate her: even I sometimes get undercut by it.”

The Fortune Teller listened and smiled, shoving the cards back into their box and hiding it in his cape. “So I take it you believe she’s worth saving.”

He would’ve looked at the Fortune Teller like he was crazy, but since his cards told the truth, this was most definitely not a rhetorical question. “Yes. With every crumb of my dough, I do.”

The Fortune Teller reached deep into his cloak and pulled out a candle. “I hear they’ve got plenty of pies in the Hollyberry kingdom.” He put it on the table. “Take it. I have every faith that you’ll find her, and when you do, I think you should set her free.”

“Set her free?”

The Fortune Teller went silent, slipped out of the booth and exited the bar. Even when Black Sapphire followed, there was hardly even footprints to indicate he’d ever been there at all. But the candle remained in his hand. White, the color of purity. A new beginning, even.

-

The desert started off as just a warmer half of the jungle, but after crossing the Masala river it all began to look and smell familiar again. 

Alas, the journey wouldn’t end in spite of the heat. He chose to travel by night to ensure the sands were as cold as possible. When the sun was on the horizon he would find a patch of shadow to hide in, planning the route from memory. The unfortunate thing about the Spice Desert was that it took up so much of Beast Yeast, and dunes all looked the same for miles until some semblance of civilization could be seen. 

Eventually he spotted a campfire in the dead of night. It belonged to some group of rogue wild spices, who supposedly had no affiliation to the Great Destroyer. He, having gone maybe a day or two too long without anybody to knock some sense into his head, decided to yet again tell them his whole tragic tale to fill the time as they traveled down along the dunes.

Really, the story got easier to make short with every telling. This time he had the opportunity to tell it multiple times, switching the jokes up for added flare. The spices were probably sick of him by the time they decided to put a bag over his head and put him on their candy camel. 

…

So… when they said they were rogue bandits, they may or may not have been lying. Eh, he was newly not a Cookie of Deceit anymore, shame on him for not trying to read between the lines when everything around him was so hot.

The convenient thing about getting kidnapped by bandits who worked for the Great Destroyer was that he had a free ride all the way to his encampment, and also the luxury of being thrown into a cell without the bag over his head. And, the bindings were rope at best, so his Gemstone Bats could gnaw away and he was free in no time.

The down side is that he had no key or sense of direction towards which guard had a key. 

…But what he Did have was the magic of deceit. 

“Excuse me?” He said in his most confident voice, “Would you happen to have a key to this door? I’m kind of stuck?”

The guard posted near his cell hissed at him, and he waved his staff. Static fell over the room and he smiled, “Oh, but Burning Spice Cookie would be so mad at you if you didn’t have a key. Why don’t you come over here and show me that you have it.”

The Cilantro Cobra slithered over and show him a ring of keys. Perfect. 

“Ah good cobra! But, how will I know you have my key unless you unlock my door with the right one? For all I know, you could’ve been doing the lazy thing and not having my key on that…” He didn’t need to continue, as the door was open before he finished. “I was never here, you never saw me leave. Understood?”

“Hissssss.”

He didn’t bother to translate. He snuck around the encampment looking for Candy Apple Cookie, donning the disguise of Surmac Cookie once more. Nobody even acknowledged him as he walked past the crowds of warriors and people exchanging tales. Completely invisible, as a good spy should be. 

And then he saw her.

Decked out in white robes that had a rope tie at the waist to keep everything in place, Apples bare of any coating, Candle Apple Cookie was taking orders from some high ranking warrior, a nutmeg tiger.

He waited for her to come closer after finishing her little chat before he pulled her aside. She lashed out punches that were uncharacteristically hard hitting and he shoved his microphone in the way of her ferocious hands. “Woah there. Calm down. It’s me!”

She stopped for a split second to take in his appearence. “Who?”

“You know… Black Sapphire Cookie…?”

“Oh.” She nodded. Her eyes were glazed over like she wasn’t entirely aware that it was him. “You’re back. You shouldn’t have come back.”

“I know. It’s… really dangerous out here. But I’m here to save you, and hopefully we can… I dunno. I wasn’t thinking of where to go after this. Maybe we should just return to crispia first and foremost so I can show Mast— Shadow Milk Cookie that you’re alive. We won’t stay with him though. Just to prove him wrong.”

“Listen Black Sapphire.” She said in as exasperated a tone as she could, “He already knows I’m alive. He doesn’t care about us. If you want to do anything, just leave this place, and me. If I die, that’s that. There’s not really a point to me surviving any longer. I’ve already outlived my stay here on earthbread for over ten millennia.”

What? 

What?!

“What?!!” He said, “No, no no. You can’t just give up! I’ve found you now. We’re together again.” He pulled her in for a hug, “it’s all going to be okay, don’t you believe that?”

“I can believe anything if I set my mind to it.” She sighed. “Even that I’m useful. You know, I met Pure Vanilla a day or two ago, he told me I could be the protagonist.” When he let her go, she swayed on her feet a bit like he was the only thing keeping her on balance, “You’d read that story, wouldn’t you?”

He could hear the crowds. They needed to get out of here. Maybe a bit of un-spiced air would do her good, clearly being in captivity had driven her mad.

“We need to go.” He said, flicking his microphone on and beginning to speak as he dragged her away from the tents, at first a slow pace but as his paranoia grew, so too did the speed at which he was running. He wanted out of here, so so bad. His only wish in the moment was to be with Candy Apple, to travel or go dress shopping or play dolls with her one last time. He didn’t care as they were both still alive and out of here.

It seems the exercise had knocked her back into her right mind because he felt her hand tighten its grip in his.

“Sapphire?!” She yelled, “Wait, where’s—“

“He’s not here. C’mon, I see the exit.” He pulled her into a side path to avoid the guards seeing them, and it looked like the right decision at first, “Listen, I’m sorry we abandoned you, I promise I was trying to reach out before he closed the portal, if I—“ something caught on his foot and they both tumbled forward. “Damn it!“ His breath caught as he saw the looming shadows of those bandits from before, and his jam ran cold as he turned around to see the words being spoken;

“Well, well, well. Lookie who we have here. Seems that yapping clown will be in for a surprise when he finds out I have both of his servants in tow.”

Chapter Text

The Sage never thought he’d enjoy being so rebellious as to get drunk and undressed in a flower field and kiss his darling Recluse until the moon was high above them. But after doing it once, he hoped they could spend their nights doing it again and again until the flowers withered.

Returning home when the world was asleep and crawling into bed together, the warmth had never been so completing. Novelists often said the best ending is one that felt like the beginning of something new. In that case, he hoped this to be the end to his story, and all that came after could be an extended epilogue.

Of course, speaking as a narrator, the best part of the story is the part right before things go wrong. The comfort, the stability, the looming understanding that it could shatter any moment, followed closely by the curiosity of how.

Well, why don’t you see for yourself?

Have your happiness. Burn the candle to its end. See what really lies beneath the perfect, pristine world cultivated inside his head. There is terror and comfort alike in the concept of inevitability.

Oh, little blueberry.

We all wish you a sweet dream.

Blueberry Milk cookie smelled waffles being cooked downstairs.

Internally he cheered and slipped out of bed to put on his slippers. He’d already gotten used to this facet of his daily routine, comfortably so. It saved him so much time in the morning to have someone else cooking breakfast, especially accounting for his tastes.

Of all the recipes the Recluse had picked up from the extensive collection of cook books, waffles had to be his favourite. He made them best, and that’s probably because he tweaked the recipe to his own liking; supposedly, he used to make them for someone else before he’d taken over the Peak of Truth and become the Truthless Recluse.

As Blueberry Milk would go on to discover, Pure Vanilla cookie had a penchant for baking, and would do it even when the Sage wasn’t home. Alongside that, he was just as obsessed with tidiness as the Sage, so even when they’d left the pillows and/or duvet on the floor with their activities the night prior, they’d always be back on (and typically replaced with fresh covers) by the time he got home the next afternoon.

Having someone live with him like this, taking care of all the things that used to be such a hassle before, he was nearly unsure of how to repay the Recluse for all his efforts.

But a quick kiss on the back of his neck as he was putting powdered sugar on his waffles might be a good start.

“Good morning, my Vanilla Cheesecake Waffle Toaster Strudel Cinnamon Apple Pie.”

“…I think I liked it better when you just said “darling” or “dear” instead of every flavour under the sun.”

“Ah, but where’s the flare in that!” He pecked the Recluse’s cheek one more time before grabbing a plate and taking his own stack of waffles. “Speaking of dramatics, they’re putting on a ballet recital in the town hall tonight. Wanna come?”

Pure Vanilla cookie joined him at the table. “You’re always talking about it. Sure, why not. It’s an excuse to hold your hand for two hours.”

“Three. Counting intermission.”

“Hm. Alright.” He stuffed a waffle in his mouth. When he swallowed it he continued, “as long as there’s a five minute break where I get to go to the bathroom and also when I’m buying you stuff. Or… you’re buying me… never mind.”

They both giggled. Much of the rest of that morning consisted of doe eyed stares, Blueberry Milk cookie going over his planner and of course, actually eating the waffles. Recluse was getting better at eating and drinking slowly. He smiled more often these days, too.

Some say he had a habit of dancing around in the streets when he was drunk off berry juice — an elegant sort of dance, as if he were hearing an orchestra playing in his head. The Sage suspected he wasn’t the type to get drunk like that as often as townsfolk said. After all, he had a much higher tolerance, no doubt attributed to his saliva being vanilla extract. No, the Recluse was an odd soul by nature, there was no doubt he was just dancing because he thought nobody was watching.

Blueberry Milk hoped he could see it one day. Hence his plan to bring the Recluse to the ballet recital and hope it motivated him to dance on the way home.

The day was spent normally. After all his lecture finished, Pure Vanilla made him dinner (with his help of course. The Recluse was not a manservant!) and they cuddled on the couch afterwards until the time came to get ready and go out on the town.

After agreeing to move in, The Sage insisted on dragging him to a tailor so he had more clothes to wear than just his dark robes. Along with that, he mostly shared the Sage’s billowy white shirts and blue vests. He seemed to prefer loose fitting clothing so keeping him in tight pants for longer than a couple hours was a great struggle.

…The narrator is choosing not to make a joke about this. The Sage is very sane and normal and doesn’t fantasize about helping Pure Vanilla take his clothes off.

Anyway.

Tonight, Pure Vanilla had picked out a loose black dress, with long off the shoulder sleeves and his signature cape. Instead of the cone hat, he’d gone for a navy beret with stars he’d embroidered onto it. Others might not see the difference between this and his usual outfit, but Blueberry Milk did and it drew his eyes back to in every time.

As for himself, Blueberry Milk chose a white shirt with tiered sleeves, dark blue trousers and a coat with the sun and moon embroidered into the sleeves. Pure Vanilla was definitely responsible for that. Maybe this is what he did at the Peak of Truth, millions of art hobbies.

He kissed Blueberry Milk on the cheek before they left, “Can I at least pretend to pay for things?”

“Haha, look at how much you’ve changed, not privy on theft anymore?”

Pure Vanilla smiled mischievously, “Oh, my sights have just been set for higher quality goods.”

“Oh yeah?” He pulled Pure Vanilla in by the waist, “such as?”

He tilted his head, shamelessly dropping his gaze, “Your heart, for a start. It’s a real ambitious venture, I’m going to steal you piece by piece until you’re all mine.”

Damn, at least he kept the scandalous tongue on him. “Maybe wait until we get home to do that.” He planted a little kiss on Pure Vanilla cheek in return and they were off.

*

The intermission period was typically filled with people coming up to the Sage while he was outside on a fresh air break or sitting in his seat enjoying the emptiness of the theatre and asking for autographs or questions on their homework. Yes, he assigned them homework sometimes. He was surprised they cared enough to actually do it, too.

Well, tonight he had the benefit of the Recluse’s magic, and they used it to go buy sweet rolls during intermission. Pure Vanilla had taken the Sage’s coin pouch and been the one to hand the money up to the vendor. They sat by the fountain of gemstone mermaids and ate in comfortable silence.

“Are you in a mood for dancing yet?” The Sage asked.

“Pfft. No, not yet. Maybe afterwards?”

The night was soft on their dough, clear skies to see the stars. Well, if they went somewhere without lamp light, they’d see them clearer.

“I used to be able to see galaxies from the peak.” The Recluse said. “One of the kind mercies of living there.”

“What was it truly like? Living in the Peak of Truth.”

“Lonely.” He said, “And cold. Time stretches beyond infinities. Truth is often harsher than it seems. Even so, you learn how to let it settle into something softer.” He leaned his head on the Sage’s shoulder.

His hair was soft, so impossibly soft. How could someone so beautiful suffer so much? If Sage could save him from his fate, maybe he would’ve, just to prevent this terrible agony. And yet, Truth is inevitable. Even if it hurt, he couldn’t defy fate. There was no use in dwelling in hypotheticals, nor the past.

So instead, The Sage promised himself he’d provide a gentler future for his lover, if he had to beg and fight for it. Lover, My goodness. Do the townspeople know I’m in love right now?

Does my darling Recluse even know?

“Clusie…” he cracked up at himself, realizing how silly it was to call him by a nickname instead of his real name.

“Yes, Little Blueberry?” He took his head off Blueberry Milk’s shoulder and an incredulous smile formed when he saw how giddy the Sage was. “Did I say something…?”

“No, no, it’s just— I think I’m in love with you.” He pulled Pure Vanilla forward and heard the stars in his hair twinkling in delight. “And I wanna spend my whole life loving you now.” At first Pure Vanilla appeared mortified, but then he stood up and paced like he was considering the words. “Uh. Was this the wrong time to say that?” The Sage stood up too. “Oh, Clusie, I’m sorry.”

“No! Don’t be sorry. I just… need to think about this.”

“You’re worried about something.”

Pure Vanilla winced, “Same thing it’s always been. I’m sorry I’m not getting better.”

“Well, we can work that out. We can search for a solution, will that ease—“

“There’s no solution. We’ll never last…” he sighed, “Why can’t I let go of this? I’m overthinking it. Tell me I’m overthinking it.”

“…You’re overthinking it, honey.” Slowly he reached for the Recluses hand, “Love might not be enough to stop whatever you’re so afraid is coming for us, but it can at least provide some comfort before the worst thing happens, right?”

Pure Vanilla took his hand and turned to look at the Sage. There was a tense moment where the Sage was sure he was about to walk away, but then he noticed the Recluse’s eyes line with tears, his shoulders slumped and he spun heel to pull Sage into a heavy kiss. His hand slid into the starry locks of Blueberry Milk’s hair like he was hoping he’d never wake from at his dream.

He abruptly pulled back. “Gosh, Blueberry Milk, I don’t know why I’m doubting you. I’m—“ He went back for a second, equally long kiss, and it really did feel like he was trying to pull his soul out with its intensity. He pulled back more gently this time. “My head’s a wild place. Please don’t think my doubts are your fault. I’m just… gosh, how on theme. Point is, I love you too. And despite all the doubts, I want to be with you too. I’m sorry. I just got freaked out when you said it. Y’know… mood swings and all.”

“I feel like we should get you a proper diagnosis for that. I’ll get some books on psychology from the library if you want.“

Pure Vanilla nodded. “One last kiss?”

Oh, he was so one track minded. It was adorable, so worth protecting with his life.

The second half of the show came and went, and they talked about it all the way home. They passed the park and the Recluse grabbed his wrist. “Wanna sneak in again?”

“Oh, for what?” He didn’t get an answer, as the Recluse opened a portal and pulled him through. He stumbled out the other side dizzy like he’d just been spun a thousand times.

“You said you wanted to see me dance. So, have your wish.” The Recluse stepped back, kicking up some pink leaves that had fallen from one of the trees overhead. Blueberry Milk sat down and focused all his attention on Pure Vanilla as he danced like he was made of silk and elastic.

There was a caution in his steps, like he’d practiced on even ground and wasn’t used to the instability of the floor now.

There wasn’t really a method to the graceful sweep of his arms, and he most definitely was making it up on the spot, but the tiny pauses and ungraceful transitions from move to move made it all the more endearing, at some point the Recluse hopped up, landed wrong and fell on his side. Before Blueberry Milk could ask if he was okay, he was already pretending to cover the mistake with a new move.

When he decided he was done, he bowed gracefully, mimicking the ballet dancers and Blueberry Milk gave his applause.

“Oh… I’m glad you liked that.” He reached out his hand, “do you know how to waltz?”

The Sage practically burst into light. “My witches, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages!” He grabbed the Recluse and spun him round. Both of them burst into laughter as they went through the steps, and Pure Vanilla’s skirt and cape swayed and flapped as he let Blueberry Milk spin and dip and pull him back up.

Even without music, an internal melody was set to their steps, something they both seemed to understand even if it was simply imaginary.

From here, the stars most definitely twinkled like they were gushing to one another about the two lovers and their silly little escapades in places they shouldn’t be.

He ended it with a loving kiss to Pure Vanilla’s lips, which he returned by draping his arms around Blueberry Milk’s shoulders.

“I want to marry you.” Pure Vanilla said, eyes sparkling, “one day, far away. If we have enough time.”

“I accept the proposal in advance, my darling vanilla cheesecake—“

“Noooo… Heh, kidding. I love you too.”

Chapter Text

They returned the next morning because Pure Vanilla had dropped his beret somewhere in the park. Thankfully it wasn’t dirtied by anybody, just a bit damp from the dew on the flowers. While he was busy looking for it, Blueberry Milk decided to gather a few flowers into a mini bundle and presented them to Pure Vanilla cookie.

“There. Beautiful, just like you.”

The Recluse took them, and his cheeks tinted the same shade as the flowers. “I still can’t quite believe you think I’m beautiful. This must be some kind of trick.”

“Oh please, they don’t call me the Sage of Truth just for it to turn out I’m filled to the brim with lies.”

“I know. I’m just paranoid.” He reached up to run a hand over Blueberry Milk's cheek, “Maybe I need to eat something.” He gave Blueberry Milk a quick peck before returning the way they came.

—

They had lunch in the cafe of their first date. And yes, The Recluse had to be the one to tell him it counted as a date. He had no idea how he could be so oblivious to the obvious romantic undertones. He was the one who started this whole ordeal!

He was playing around with a muffin wrapper, folding it as small as he could, when a new idea came to him. “Would you like to return to that lake again? It’s such nice weather, after all.”

Pure Vanilla swallowed the aforementioned muffin to which the wrapper belonged. “Would that be safe?”

The Sage tilted his head in consideration. “If that serpent is still there, I’ll be prepared this time around.”

The Recluse had this look on his face, something like guilt. “I hope it doesn’t come back.” Then he shook his head. “I mean— what serpent? Didn’t we… I think you chalked it up to a hallucination, no? The lake was never deep enough to house a snake anyway.”

Did he? Must’ve been on the way back, because he couldn’t remember ever saying the beast in those waters wasn’t real, just that it was improbable. Either his memory was serving him wrong, or…

“Well, whatever it was,” Pure Vanilla downed the remains of his coffee, “I think we should do like you said and have faith in spite of our doubts. That’s what you told me to do, right?”

“Right. Right! Well, once we’re done, let’s head off.”

—

Blueberry Milk’s confidence was well rewarded with a peaceful afternoon at the lake.

He’d prepared for the prospect of swimming this time, bringing a towel and fresh clothes for them both. The water was cold, shiver worthy, but the Recluse insisted on playing tag in the water again, leaving out the pranks this time.

After a few minutes, they both agreed to give up and return to cuddling in the water. He swam up and wrapped his arms around Pure Vanilla, pulling himself up to kiss him. Suddenly the chill didn’t matter, the smooth texture of their legs kicking and intertwining was enough to warm his insides. The new struggle was trying not to ingest the lake water accidentally, especially when they kept dragging each other underwater, so they both agreed to swim over to the shallow water: but Pure Vanilla was still not satisfied and pulled them over to the grass and they practically toppled over one another.

With no onlookers, they were free to do just about anything. Hm, how incredibly convenient that Pure Vanilla owned a version of that body suit that was separated into sleeveless turtleneck and shorts. How incredibly coincidental that he’d changed into it before they left for the lake.

*

“Do you think we do this kind of stuff too much?” Blueberry Milk had to ask as he was putting his spare change of clothes on. Pure Vanilla was struggling to pull his shirt over his head with the towel hat wrapped around his hair.

“Do you want my honest answer?”

“Yes.”

“I think we don’t do it nearly enough.” He pulled the towel off his hair and finally managed to get the shirt on, “And yes, I have been keeping score, that’s an insane answer for how often it happens.”

“Twelve times since our first, right?”

“Fourteen.” Then Pure Vanilla covered his mouth. “You were really drunk one of the times, I stopped before it got too heated because I realized we weren’t on equal footing.”

“I don’t remember that…”

“Yeah… exactly.”

“Okay so, what was the other time?” He watched Pure Vanilla consider his next words as he tapped his fingers together. “Was I asleep or something…?”

“Kinda… one of us had a weird dream and next thing I know we’re half-awake, half-asleep and… yeah.”

Blueberry Milk blushed. He couldn’t help but huff a laugh out of pure incredulity. “You know what? Maybe I understand why you don’t like being called “Pure” Vanilla anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no sit back down.” He grabbed the Recluse's shoulders, “I don’t mind. But try not to hide things like that again, okay? It’s important to me that we both don’t keep secrets.” At the aversion of the Recluse's eyes he specified, “Relevant secrets. I know you had a hard past.”

“Thank you.”

Blueerry Milk planted a kiss on the star mark on his forehead. “That’s a good boy. Let’s go home, I have a lecture due in half an hour.”

*

Pure Vanilla had decided to go for a late night walk. He’d been doing that more often these days. Blueberry Milk was worried the first few times, the way he’d go missing for up to an hour, but as they adjusted to living together, Blueberry Milk discovered the Recluse took walks so he could pretend to ramble to the air and collect his thoughts. In his own words, ‘It’s like writing in a diary but without the effort it takes keeping my hand steady as my head rattles on.’

They compromised that he could go so long as there was some semblance of notification, and that he didn’t stay past midnight. Sometimes Sage would crawl into bed and wake up the next morning being used like a teddy bear by the Recluse. He had a sleepy habit of clinging to Blueberry Milk like he was the one that might go missing.

But tonight, the clock had already hit midnight and Pure Vanilla was nowhere to be found. Finally, worry started forming in Blueberry Milk's chest, making his heart pound. Even as he pulled the duvet over himself, he couldn’t seem to sleep. The Recluse never joined him in bed. He remembered falling unconscious a few times but even when his body was alerting him that someone should’ve been cooking breakfast, still no sign of him.

He’d made a game out of waiting for his alarm clock to go off. Tick, tick, tick. Still no sizzle of jelly bacon or pancakes.

Was the Recluse trying to prank him on purpose? Was that really something his darling would do?

Tick. Tick tick. The clock skipped a beat and  so did his heart. What if the Recluse was only waiting for him to fall in love before he did the worst thing possible.

Tick-tick-tick. No, that’s stupid. He wouldn’t ever do that. He wouldn’t bring them both this far just to pull out on a random night. He said he wanted to get married. Was that a lie?

No. No! What was wrong with his head?

Tic-tick, tic— Was that clock getting faster or was it his head? He flipped over on his side and watched the hand tick-ta-tick and yes, it must be getting faster.

Would the Recluse return before the ticking drove him mad?

Tic-tick, Tic-tick, Tic-tick. Was this it, was the sword coming for his head? Maybe it had come for the Recluse already, and that’s why he still wasn’t home.

Tickticktickt- BRRRRRRR!

He slammed a hand on the alarm and sat up. He rushed down to the kitchen and nobody was there to greet him.

Empty. Eerily quiet. Something was wrong. He just couldn’t guess what. Uncertainty, the enemy of truth, a friend of deceit. The force of it lingered through his whole day, and the next. He couldn’t take care of himself until he knew his lover wasn’t gone forever.

It was eating his nerves like licorice. Just like he’d stolen his heart, the Recluse had stolen his thoughts too.

Witches, How he longed to be kissed one last time before he could accept it. That longing ripped into stomach. Stole his ability to eat without feeling like he was going to throw up.

On the third morning, Blueberry Milk smelled waffles downstairs and nearly died with the way his heart stuttered.

He scrambled out of bed and found the Recluse sitting downstairs, the pile of waffles on a big plate in the centre of the table.

“Clusie… oh my God, is that you?” He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or scared, considering the Recluse’s solemn expression. He rounded the table and pulled the Recluse into a hug. “I was convinced you’d died, please never scare me like that again.”

The Recluse didn’t return the hug. “I went to see the world. There is a lot to say.” He gestured to the waffles. “You should take a seat. I made your favourite.”

Blueberry Milk stepped back and dragged a chair out. “Where did you go? I was worried to the point of starvation!”

“Well, now you get to eat.” The Recluse rested his chin on the back of his intertwined fingers and smiled, “I’m so sorry, my dear. I really thought I was the only one who got like that. Tell me, was that always a thing, or did you only stop eating because I entered your life?”

“Don’t blame yourself for my terrible eating habits, please,” he said, taking a waffle and trying his damn best to swallow it. “More importantly, why did you leave?”

The Recluse decided to focus on the waffles, “I infected you with misfortune like I said.”

“Clusie, Don’t say that.” Blueerry Milk begged, “You’ve been the greatest blessing upon my monotonous existence I’ve ever had.”

The Recluse tried to smile, but it dropped after only a second. “I see you still live in that gilded cage. It used to be hard hearing you say you loved me. I never deserved it.” Blueberry Milk’s heart dropped. What does that mean..?

“Please tell me you weren’t lying this whole time.” Blueberry Milk said slowly. His heart was clawing its way through his entire intestine system. “Tell me this is some sick joke. A ‘tag and you’re it’ kind of foolery.”

There was a relent in the Recluse's posture. “Not the whole time. Not even a majority of the time. But in case you haven’t noticed, the flowers in your garden are looking rather dry. No amount of water will fix them… to answer your first question, I went back to the peak of Truth.”

“You went back?!” He said, “But, didn’t you say—?”

“I’m not afraid of what lives up there. I just know it would be better if you didn’t have to see me go. Easier for the both of us.”

But he was. He was most definitely afraid, or else he wouldn’t have ran away two nights ago. He wouldn’t have come back. Blueberry Milk still struggled to understand what he was meant to make of this conversation.

“He will find us everywhere.” The Recluse went on, “The only place that is truly safe is the Peak, since time doesn’t move. But that poses another issue: if the beast finds You in the peak, He’ll try to kill us both.”

An uncomfortable silence lingered between them. Blueberry Milk felt his body urging him to stand up and pace, but he kept himself glued to the seat.

“It’s unthinkable. You can’t possibly think this distance would make it hurt less.”

“But I do.” He said. “There’s a lot of truths that I could say to convince you of that fact, but I’d rather you remain blissfully unaware. That’s how I’ve always been — protecting people from the cruelty of truth by deceiving them.”

That anguish, the heart tearing, stomach burning anguish, became too much and it ignited into anger. Unfamiliar, or at least it should’ve been: but to someone else, maybe this the most natural response he could’ve had.

Still, he wasn’t that someone. He tamped it down with every muscle he had. “I can’t believe you. Normally I’d relinquish my doubts, but this time, Pure Vanilla cookie, I can’t believe what you’re saying.”

“Not your fault in the slightest. You fell for a liar, who is surprised that it caused you such confusion in the end?”

“No. Tell me the truth.” The Sage said, “There’s something else to this story. You’re hiding it from me.”

“You said I could keep secrets if they weren’t relevant.”

“They are now!” He rose to his feet. “They’re relevant now, so spill it! I don’t care if it’s painful.” The Recluse stared up at him. He hardly even flinched at the display of the Sage losing it. Didn’t it hurt him in the slightest? “Why are you so calm about this? You were always so anxious before…”

So nonchalant, like he was being puppeteered. “Ever wondered what makes a horror story effective in unsettling its audience?” He crushed the petals of a bouquet set on the table between his fingers, “Anticipation. A monster could never be shown, but a horror story is effective because anticipating the threat is scarier than seeing it.” He rubbed his fingers to sprinkle the remains on the table, “A droning, ever present sensation as opposed to a shock that fades. Your heartbreak will be the shock. It’ll hurt for a few days, and then you’ll move on. Your heart will recover.” He turned his eyes to the Sage, “Or, it would, if I hadn’t left the world to decay beyond a point of saving.”

But it still made no sense: why would he do all of this, only to pull out at the last stretch? Something else was behind this. Someone else.

Recluse seemed to read the thought right off his face. He ran his tongue along the back of his teeth like he was annoyed, yet his eyes remained dead. “Alright, have your cake. Do you remember the Serpent?”

His jam ran cold. “That was real?”

“It was. And I was the one who set it on you.”

Blueerry Milk’s world tilted. No way. Not a single way in the Oven or what lies outside of the desert world. “You saved me from it.”

“I said I did. Do you trust that to be true?”

“Yes. I felt— I saw you! You can’t just pretend that away!”

The Recluse hummed. “Diligent. Why do you think I’d do that? Make a monster, let it almost kill you and then save you just at the right time?”

The Sage’s throat closed up. He could hardly force the words out. “You wanted me to trust you.”

“Correct. And that’s it.” The Recluse stood up and rounded the table. “I tricked you into believing I cared. I even came back when I felt bad, though I didn’t anticipate it to go on for three whole months. But there you go. You can hate me now, and I can leave you alone. We’ll wither away in agony and Shadow Milk will return to his regular state of affairs. Maybe even take your anger out on his other half like he was supposed to.” He took his staff from the wall and headed for the door. The Sage stalked after him, watching him reach for the door knob.

“Who’s Shadow Milk?”

The Recluse froze up. His back still turned to the Sage, he inhaled slowly. “I didn’t say that.”

“You did. I heard you. You can pretend you never cared, that everything we had was fake, but you caNNOT-“ his anger got the best of him, and he spun the Recluse around to face him and slammed the Recluse against the door, “—For the life of me, pretend you didn’t mention that name again. Who is that, and why does he matter? Is that your master or something?”

The Recluse raised his hand to cover the Sage’s mouth. “Don’t ask again.”

“I will. I’ll keep you here until you tell me—“

“You want to know, Fine!” He pushed the Sage off with surprising strength. “He’s the culmination of all your worst impulses, Sage. Every step closer to him marks you in more danger. I was trying to protect you.”

“You cannot possibly think this is what it looks like to protect me.”

The Recluse stalked the distance he created and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The Sage’s anger vanished in an instant, replaced by heartache.

“I do.” The Recluse said, “I warned you about the dagger enough times, it’s not on me if you didn’t see it.” He swiped away a tear trickling down the Sage’s cheek. “It was only a matter of time, little Blueberry.” He pulled back and it was like having the knife removed. “I can’t change fate, and neither can you. Just… just live with the heartache. With uncertainty. It’s the better thing.”

He reached for the door knob again. This time, the Sage didn’t stop him. He couldn’t. This was all too familiar. His own grief froze his limbs in place, and he knew intuitively that he might be having nightmares about this very moment for the rest of his life. “Please don’t leave me.”

The Recluse turned back to give him a final once over. “Get some rest, Sage. If you can.” He passed the threshold and the door began swinging shut.

Blueerry Milk Cookie had just enough strength left to stumble to the threshold to watch the Recluse’s path as he turned the corner and the light of his staff faded from view.

Chapter Text

So, as it turns out, White Lily had indeed obtained an invite for the party, just how she refused to say. Hollyberry wasn’t worried in the slightest about the potential forgery, dragging her inside to the dinner table and seating her next to Pure Vanilla Cookie.

The other ancients expressed their shock in the form of gasps or words. Any other important guests turned to whisper. Hollyberry Cookie announced her as the fifth and final ancient and sat back down.

“White Lily Cookie…” Golden Cheese said first, “It has been such a long time.”

“Indeed…” she whispered, “I’d like to get out of the way firstly, that I’m so sorry about what happened to your kingdom!”

“Ah. Dark Enchantress Cookie will be stopped for her crimes against my people. But you, you appear… different. Your hair is…”

White Lily clutched a black streak and nodded, “Side effect of my journey through Beast Yeast.”

Hollyberry raised her cup, “That continent has brought about changes for all of us. It’s a good thing we all made it through.”

Dark Cacao was the second to raise his cup. “The experience forged new will within all of us.” They clinked glasses and drank. “But, Pure Vanilla Cookie, would you mind explaining what happened, exactly? We all know the fairy kingdom was responsible for the revival of White Lily Cookie, but it’s been on my mind as to how it’s possible to bring a Cookie back from the dead.”

White Lily took his hand and they explained together the method behind the spell. It was nostalgically reminiscent of when they used to ramble on about science together to their friends, before they all got kingdoms to run and parted ways to serve their duties.

“So… that leads us to when we sent out the letters.” White Lily concluded, “everything after that gets… messy.”

“My condolences to the fairy kingdom.” Dark Cacao bowed in his seat. “That Shadow Milk Cookie… He will pay for his crimes.”

“Indeed.” White Lily suddenly clutched her staff tighter, “Let us hope he doesn’t try any of this tricks this weekend.”

Aww, they’re talking about me! That’s cute.

Pure Vanilla reached up to his neck, to the soul jam. “Somehow, I feel a premonition that he will. I still cannot feel his presence, not tonight, but I will tell you all if I do.”

Pffft! C’mon. You’re not seriously going to lie to them now, are you? You’ve been such a good job of keeping yourself composed.

He glanced up at White Lily. “We will defeat him together, if it happens that he makes an appearance.”

“Right. Especially since…” she looked at her soul jam and it twinkled, “Ah, that’s another story I think I should relay. I don’t know if we have time to go into the details but…”

Hollyberry held up a hand. “How about we all eat first, that includes you. The time for sharing stories should come after the second round of berry juice is served.”

-

A second round of berry juice was exactly what most of them needed to relax after the harrowing tale of the Silver Kingdom.

Dark Cacao went first, detailing his tale of the pale ailment, of the Pagoda and his soldiers turning to flour. In the end, he managed to subdue the dragons once more and reclaim his power of Resolution.

Golden Cheese offered to go second, mostly because the other three ancients hadn’t finished their cups; Burning Spice Cookie was a reckless warmonger, with only a taste for Destruction. She hardly spoke of any turmoil or doubt within his heart, unlike Dark Cacao’s mention of Mystic Flour’s Facade of indifference. But she had similarly been in what could’ve been her final moments when she awakened. Their stories were surprisingly similar, despite their beasts’ differences in approach to ultimate desolation.

Pure Vanilla began feeling nauseous as the time neared for him to tell his tale. He requested another berry juice, pretending he simply couldn’t find the words to describe his experience yet. Only White Lily noticed his hesitation: she knew he was the last Cookie who would ever Not find the words to describe an experience. Hollyberry was swinging her third glass around as she relayed the tale of getting stuck in paradise like some epic, having to battle between her duty and her inner demons. She also mentioned a Sugarfly Cookie who White Lily perked up at.

“She’s with me! I brought her along after receiving the invitation to this feast.”

“Oh? Must’ve stayed in her room. She always seemed the less social kind. Anyway, she told us about the silver tree, how a mysterious visitor had given it to Elder Fairy when it was still a mere sapling.” Hollyberry turned her gaze to White Lily Cookie. “I would guess that’s where you come in?”

White Lily hunched her posture. “Right… it’s complicated…” she looked to Pure Vanilla, “Who goes first?”

Oh.

Oh no. So she knew. Oh course she knew. Their stories were so intertwined, fate itself couldn’t tear them apart. Even if their beasts weren’t here, their story continued.

Is this the part where you notice I’m sitting right above you?

Pure Vanilla’s heart skipped a beat. He pretended to consider White Lily’s question and scanned the ceiling for an answer. The shadow cast by the chandelier was too dark, and soon enough from the corner her could hear the faint snickering. His soul jam pounded with its resonance. “I don’t know.” He said, both to her and to the shadow, “White Lily, would you like to go first?”

Putting the ball in her court. You’re so cruel~ I wish I could’ve been here to savor it more closely.

White Lily straightened her shoulders and nodded. Her eyes shut as she recounted the story from the point at which she separated from Pure Vanilla Cookie.

She had gone alone through the land of silence, with not even Silverbell by her side. What she witnessed in the land of silence was… harrowing was the only word to put to it. Truths and revelations none of them could could’ve ever imagined were brought to light.

Her fight with Silent Salt Cookie was the the true main event. After having been pursued through the salty plains and mountains and ruins, they finally came to a battleground and fought until nearly all hope was lost.

But, shining somewhere within her, a hope that changed her forever.

“He was yelling about trying to save the world, about this being the only way. I remember it because it resonated with me. I realized it was always my own wish to bring peace and happiness to Cookie kind… so too was it all he wanted.”

The ugly reality of how it had played out for him, trying to restore peace to earthbread… Pure Vanilla knew it too.

“It was really when he had brought his sword down upon me, I had to use my staff to parry the blade. He nearly had me sliced in half when our soul jams collided.”

Heh, that position sounds familiar. Minus the soul jams, of course.

“Our soul jams fused, for a moment. I think I must’ve been close to giving up all hope, for my heart was nearly devoid of it. But a bright flash showed me a vision.”

She clutched the skirts of her dress, “I saw how the beasts were sealed… and what lead up to it. Dark Cacao Cookie, were you aware of what happened to your beast when she was forcibly taken from her cocoon?”

Dark Cacao’s eyes narrowed. “Only briefly.”

“It was chaos. Murder. So many Cookies slaughtered. It was then that he realized he’d neglected his duties to protect earth bread, for he had trusted his friends too much. Solidarity had fallen away into silence. And as his final act, he’d decided to make it all fall to silence… he went to the silver kingdom as his final resort to trap the beasts and prevent any more anguish.”

Why are you still listening? You know you’ve heard this story before.

“But there’s something missing from the context.” Pure Vanilla said quietly. “White Lily Cookie… were you shown the final words of Silent Salt Cookie?”

“Final words? I believe he said something along the lines of, “We cast our powers away now, for hope that a new batch of heroes may take up their swords and defeat all evil that lingers within this realm.” And…”

She looked at him, “I’m sure you know, he had a message for his old friend, the second last to be sealed; “your actions upon this world will never be forgotten, and nor will they be forgiven. Not until the day that I crumble, will I ever forgive you for your arrogance.”

“Holy witches.” Pure Vanilla whispered. “No wonder he has such a guilt complex.”

Hey, watch your tongue, little—

“Doubt he feels any remorse.” White Lily said. “Even through a multi-millennia imprisonment, he seemed just as vengeful now as he was back then. Shadow Milk Cookie will never be forgiven by his once-friend, the Beast of Silence: Even I don’t know if I have the power to absolve him.”

The table was quiet except for the quiet clatter of a fork against a plate somewhere.

“I should finish the story.” White Lily inhaled, unsteady. “So, after seeing that vision, i realized that I was the hero the world needed… we all were. That our combined strength was what saved earth bread countless times, and in order to truly defeat dark enchantress Cookie, we would all need to come together and trust one another. That epiphany set me off into awakening. These wings weren’t permanent before, but I suppose the combination of the Guardian’s power and the complete soul jam of Solidarity…”

Complete? Hang on a moment…

“Did you fuse at your awakening?” Golden Cheese said, “Humph. And I still had to rip the soul jam off manually.”

“So did I,” White Lily said, voice on the edge of breaking, “I took the soul jam off his chest myself. I wish I could describe the—“ she paused to breathe, “The reverence on his face when I came down, and the anguish. I think we both knew as I landed that he wasn’t going to last much longer after all the injuries I’d inflicted. His eyes were filled with so much Hope.”

Pure Vanilla could feel the presence of the shadows stirring. His heart stretched at the seams for her, and for the beast watching this revelation reveal itself.

“He told me that he’d been waiting for someone to take the burden off his shoulders, that he’d had every faith I could be his grand successor. Reunite the kingdoms, to— to—“ she sobbed, “I never saw myself as a hero, just a scholar, then a traitor, and now… Now I have to believe I can do it. But it’s so hard to believe. I held him close in his final moments. I wanted to make sure the final words he ever heard were worth dying for.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said… I reassured him it was okay. That he could finally rest, that he did all he could. I reassured him that I’d find a way to save the world.”

You know I always do…

Pure Vanilla stared at the shadows on the ceiling. Shadow Milk, are you alright?

The shadows retreated, returned to their normal shade of cold grey. Oh, poor thing.

He couldn’t just leave, and yet… he had to check on Shadow Milk Cookie.

“May I be excused? I think there’s something… I need to empty my bladder.” He stood up and rushed to a nearby hallway, finding a bathroom just there. Thank the stars. He locked the door behind him.

He held his hand to his soul jam and tried his damned best to reach out a connection. It took effort to search for the tether but when he found it he passed over as an illusion. The Dark Cacao hospital was dark, all the workers already departed. On the counter was an open tub of sleeping pills, spilled messily like he was just trying to shove as many in his mouth as possible.

“Oh, oh no—“

You again.

Pure Vanilla stumbled back. This time, that ominous voice had a face, a body. The monster that could’ve been a wolf, but it was also too monstrous to be any less than a Beast. It loomed over the Cookie like a gargoyle. I won’t warn you again. Stay away from Shadow Milk Cookie.

“Are you the light of deceit?”

It does not mater. He does not want to see you. Leave him be.

“You’re lying to yourself, Shadow Milk.” He said, “wake him up, right now.”

Oh, you want to wake him? Foolish Cookie. This will only bring pain.

“I can handle pain; I said before that it’s my job to do so.” He stood tall, “I’m sick of these delays. Let us just resolve this already. Make it easy on both our souls.”

The beast merely laughed in his face. You might think I’m a villain of some kind, but I am the only thing protecting you both from hell. That is all I desire.

“Liar.” He said, “you’re drawing this out for your own entertainment.”

So you admit it? Shadow Milk only does things because it amuses him. Suffering and Fun combine in our realm. Whatever it is that you have deluded yourself into thinking, it is on the cusp of being proven wrong… we are not soft, nor good, nor will we ever be remorseful of our claws.

Pure Vanilla took a step forward. “Did he read my note?”

Did you read his? You probably shouldn’t, if you’re so concerned about pain. You’ll only break your own heart.

“Then you should know. 24 hours. I expect him to be there.”

Finally the beast relented. You leave us no choice. Finally it disappeared. Pure vanilla sighed and returned to the Hollyberry kingdom. He took some toilet paper and splashed cold water on his face, dried himself off and blew out a breath.

Once he was sure he looked alright, he returned to the dining table just in time for another round of berry juice.

“Oh, no more for me please.“ he said, retaking his seat. “I’d rather skip the headache tomorrow.”

"If I may say…” White Lily cookie stood up. The whole table fell silent as her voice rang out, "We've all fought hard battles, and lost hope at our worst moment, only to regain it and make it out the other end with a new resolve. I believe, against all odds, that our survival is proof of our strength and our determination. I know now, after seeing the world for its beauty and its horror, that cookies are a lot more than what they seem on the surface. And I know I’ve done a lot of terrible things in my past, but I want to keep protecting this world with everything i have, so I promise, I will keep fighting for all cookie kind until the day I die!"

Everyone cheered for her and toasted to striving forward. She looked radiant in the chandelier light, with everyone raising their cups in her honour. She toasted with them to the Late Elder Fairy, to the reunion of the Ancients, to her pledge of Solidarity. And lastly, she pledged to all cookiekind, for without them there would be nothing to protect.

Pure Vanilla was long over his feelings for White Lily cookie, as they rightfully belonged to his teenage self. But nonetheless, he couldn’t help feel his heart fill with joy, sparkling and pure for his best friend in the whole world, for all her growth, her successes. He raised his own toast to her alone, and even if nobody knew why, she still caught his gaze and raised her own in response, whispering the same.

The festivities continued on long past midnight and both pure vanilla and white lily returned to their room — he offered that she stay in his room and he could take the chair by the fireplace, but as soon as the door was shut they both crashed onto seperate sides of the king bed and he didn’t see a wink of her until dawn.

In that time, he’d dreamt about the Light of Truth.

He was seeing the dream from his own point of view, and the light was above him.

“My guiding light!! Where were you?”

Pure Vanilla cookie. Something very terrible has happened on the other side of the tether.

He didn’t need to be told to feel it. Something akin to anguish, was it? The light formed into a cookie-like shape and floated down to his level.

I will try to protect the bond, but so long as the light of deceit has a hold on your soul jam, we can only cross our fingers.

“But has he read my letter? Tell me so at least!”

Yes. The Light of Deceit, at very least. It is trying to overstep its authority as a guiding force. It thinks it’s protecting you both.

“It’s told me so.” Pure vanilla tapped his fingers together, “Is there any certainties about his situation, or is everything left up to chances?”

The Light wrapped its tendrils around him. It’s a two person effort. Let’s just hope the part of him that holds emotional thinking can still control the other realm. Your time to act is soon. I have faith, my dear.

It pulled back and became shapeless yet again. In the meantime, I’ll try my best with what little control I have.

Chapter Text

In the decaying starlight before clarity had returned, the Sage was paralyzed by his grief, unable to move, to see more than blurs of color and hear distant crowds calling his title, Sage of Truth. They said they wanted him back, to spill the secrets of the world and enchant them one last time with his singing. They all loved him so much.

Yet it held no value.

Nothing even mattered anymore now that his love was gone. Who was going to come save him? His breath hitched, finally a sign of life and movement. His brain etched new words into the walls of his skull, a new willpower for which his first thought was: I have to find him.

And it echoed through his mind until he felt his own consciousness become fuzzy, as if infusing itself with life once more.

I have to find him. I have to find him. I have to find him. I have to find him. I have to find him. I have to find him. I have to find him. I have to find him.I have to find him. I have to find him. I have to find him. I have to find him. I have to find him. I have to find him. I have to find him. I have to find him. I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to I have to—

The Sage didn’t know why he was crying.

He was lying on his bed, staring up at the plants on his ceiling after regaining startling clarity, so startling it seemed everything before that was overlaid with a filter in comparison.

The whole room was a mess of scattered pages and unwashed clothes. His body was in terrible condition from having stayed bedridden for witches know how long. If the Recluse wanted them both to wither in agony in their separate beds, he nearly had his wish.

But he failed to account for the anomalies of suppressing memories in one part of his brain — and not the other.

The Sage didn’t know why he was crying.

But Shadow Milk Cookie, on the other hand, had a perfectly clear understanding.

He forced his cramped limbs to move again so he could stumble into the bathroom and splash some water on his face.

Gold. This version of him had a golden eye still.

Gosh, Fate was a cruel arbiter. First his heart was broken as the Sage, then he woke up to find out his best friend had perished at the hands of the new guardian, and then he returned to paradise only to find that not only was he still heartbroken, but he kept all the guilt, shame and anguish of losing his best friend. And now, to top it all off with a blood soaked bow, his golden eye was taunting him with its perfectly healthy splendor.

He punched the mirror and it cracked neatly around his fist.

Now what? He’d already taken enough sleeping pills to knock himself out for another day, maybe a little less than that if he was lucky. And every two weeks seemed to be about twelve hours. He still had a month left? No. No way. The Sage wouldn’t have accepted this. Neither would he.

So instead he went downstairs and gathered up all the materials necessary to make some kind of plan. He caught himself staring outside at the withering plants. At least his darling Recluse wasn’t lying about that.

And even if the Recluse was lying, there was more to it: he didn’t notice as a Sage, but the former master of all lies would surely have the intelligence to think it over again and realize that someone was indeed puppeting Recluse from afar. Those final words stuck out like a sore thumb to him, said with that gentle tone and empty eyes;

“Get some rest, Sage. If you can.”

Same words he said to Silent Salt before he set Destruction upon the Pagoda. Nobody could get in his head and say those knife sharp words so precisely without a purpose. So either it was Pure Vanilla himself, or one of the Lights of Knowledge, or maybe even his own mind trying to self sabotage.

Well, scratch simply finding a way out; if he found out the true mastermind behind this world, he was going to kill them.

He drew up all the evidence on the chart, ripped apart a few love letters he’d written to the Recluse to feel better and screamed into his pillow. And then he drank too much coffee and kept charting.

He’d never been to the peak of Truth himself even if his memories said otherwise. They were false, most likely fabricated to better hide the difference between himself and the Sage.

Alright, the peak was on a hill to the south of their town. There was a lot of trials to make it up to the peak. One month was more than enough time to prepare and to make the journey: hopefully the shops were still open. He would need food and water and a few hiking supplies for the climb. And, he studied the runes in his textbooks to make sure his magic hadn’t changed.

White magic, mostly, but it seems the Sage could preform dark magic if he had the right supplies, or if he was absorbed in emotion. He discovered this when he’d set fire to his garden in a fit of angry grief.

Sigh, Blueberry Milk’s body didn’t deserve this abuse to its system.

Wait.

He was Blueberry Milk Cookie. There wasn’t even a difference between their dough, only that one wasn’t the violent and cruel trickster: even so, who says the Sage couldn’t be cruel? Perhaps there was simply no worthy targets to practice on.

He stared into the broken mirror in his bathroom. This body, the life he lived as Sage of Truth, all a lie and yet he couldn’t help but wonder if he would’ve reached this point by having cultivated love in his heart instead of bitter hate. Would his curiosity still drive him to immoral lengths? And what of the eye, would Sage have still faced the Beast of Destruction, lashed out and lost his gold?

No. This was stupid.

Sage was not a virtue, nor a Beast. He had no responsibility to safeguard anybody or anything, only tethered to this world by the crowds that cheered for him. He had all the same adoration, all the same passion as Shadow Milk had in his better days, only without the pitfalls of godhood, of war approaching, or children to mind, or friends to watch crumble, death or otherwise.

Sage was, in a most heartbreaking fit of Truth, all that the Fount would’ve wished to be if he weren’t so high on the pedestal of the world’s great legends.

And so, what did that make the Beast lurking in the shadows of this realm?

He would simply have to climb the Peak of Truth and find out.

He set off the next morning, mot entirely sure if the time was right but impatient enough with himself that it made no difference.

The climb to the peak might’ve been hard for other Cookies — for a master magician who was hard to fool, taming a cake hound would’ve been harder than this.

It took a few nights but sure enough, the top of the peak stood before him like a grand display of decadence and holiness. The Spire of all Truth was a monument to the very essence of the world, one that looked exceedingly well made for a facade of lies. It reminded him a lot of the dream where he played with the tarot cards, of the tower which sprung into three dimensional form. Gold and white, slyly hiding the shadows beneath its pure and perfect exterior. Fools might say there Was something on the peak of Truth: when the Recluse had said the opposite, he wasn’t talking literally.

Because the peak had never been this grand place of knowing and unknowing: there was a reason nobody made it back from the peak alive or unchanged by what they saw.

He reached for the ornate golden knocker, ironically serpentine. Who else could answer but the clean servants of his very own spire?

“Well, you’re looking rather well dressed for a pilgrim.” Said an achingly familiar face with white and amethyst in place of black and purple. “I take it you aren’t here for any kind of revelations with that angry expression.”

“I need to see the master of this tower.” His worlds came out with a growl he hadn’t intended. But this purified version of his little Sapphire held no judgment or bothers, simply leaning back to look down a hall and then return his gaze to Blueberry Milk.

“Can you handle the revelations he will bestow upon you? I’m sure you’re aware by now that he is not in any state to be kind about the Truth.”

“Let me in.”

“Patience is a virtue, Sage of Truth. Don’t worry, you’ll get your cake. But you won’t return to that town of yours ever again once you cross this threshold: are you willing to give up your old life for this?”

Sage might have found this decision harder: or maybe he wouldn’t, considering his supposed “untetheredness” to his town. Shadow Milk couldn’t be bothered to fill himself in on the details.

“I’m ready to give my head for this.”

‘White’ Sapphire, or whatever he was called here, took him inside and shut the door. It clicked with the menace of a gunshot. “Very well. Look upon this wonderful foyer! It’s quite refined, isn’t it? The master of this tower prefers less ornate decoration, but we made an effort to accommodate your tastes too: at least in the first room. Now come along, try not to be too quiet on the stairs or else they’ll move without permission.”

They’ll move if one is too quiet?

Annoying way to subvert the Spire’s sensitivity to noise. Very annoying.

As they progressed through the facility, White Sapphire’s claim that the Master preferred less ornate decor was starting to show itself. Minimal patterns on the carpet, less portraits hung up, hardly any plants hanging to from doors to windows. The curtains were getting darker, more navy and gold and eventually silver too.

Blueberry Milk got the intuitive sense that he was being lead further in to a death trap. And not just the sense that was worth enduring. Eventually he stopped in front of a landscape painting that was… crooked, to start. It depicted a scene of white mourners standing or toppling over each other in reverence of the witches, a sacrificial body the only spot of colour in the foreground. Jam leaked onto the table, off the table, dripping onto some of their clothes. The painting was alive. And someone was dying. Some cried out for the tragedy of the sacrifice, others scrambled to stop the witches from reaching down, and even more began to approach the witches as if they would be granted eternal peace. It was all too familiar.

He didn’t have to guess who the sacrifice represented to know he needed to run in the opposite direction from White Sapphire.

Back through the darkness, down the steps which now were slippery and reflecting blinding chandelier light. He knew the corridors of his own home too well to be lost. When he made it back to the foyer, he sighed. Where was he supposed to go now?

“Blueberry.”

The monotone calm of the voice cut across the foyer, freezing his legs, gaze shooting up to its source and locking in place.

The Recluse was wrapped in what could’ve been robes of state, one side folded over the other and tied at the waist by dark ribbon. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m the foolish one between us for thinking you’ll ever listen to any other voice than your own.” He slowly descended the staircase, his robes trailing behind him in stark contrast to the white marble. “My point is, you shouldn’t be here.”

Blueberry Milk straightened up and summoned his key staff, “not a step closer or I’ll blast you to smoke.”

The Recluse tilted his head. “Consider my curiosity piqued.” Still, he paused long enough that the staff was already lowered when he spoke again. “I hope you know I was only ever trying to protect you.”

“I don’t believe that for even a modicum of a second.” He snarled. “You and your sick accomplice broke my heart three times in a row. Whatever patience or respect I once held for you, I have let go of it now, and what replaces it—“

“Is bitter, pathetic loathing.” Recluse said like he had heard the speech a thousand times, “So you hate me now. Congratulations, little blueberry. It only took you three months.”

“More like three days.”

The Recluse blinked, an understanding look slowly creeping up his face. He tilted his face up to look at Blueberry Milk through his bottom lashes, “Interesting. I thought you’d eventually go and burn the world by yourself in a fit of rage. And yet, here’s the mortal little blueberry who chose to come back because of… what would you call that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Recluse strode the rest of the distance in quick succession, took Blueberry Milk by the wrist and pulled him up the stairs. “Let’s talk somewhere more private.”

Blueberry Milk protested, but the vice like grip on his arm was too strong, and the Recluse managed to pull him down several dark hallways once more until he suddenly stopped in front of a door, turned his eyes to it and pushed it open. Now they were standing in a bedroom decorated in spirals, suns and Venus fly traps. The heavy bed was littered with pages and letters, and curled around the posts was blue roses, dripping colour onto the cream colored sheets.

He let go of Blueberry Milk’s hand and sighed, his shoulders dropping and even his own face going blank. “There is a lot I lied to you about a few days ago. I wanted you to hate me as quickly as possible.” He admitted. “But since you’re already here, it’s only a matter of time. Ask away.”

“Was the serpent your fault?” He could’ve asked much more important things but the arrow of Truth was still ripping his soul apart days later, and he had to know.

“No.” He said simply. “I… I lied about setting the serpent on you. But it was supposed to kill you. I’m not sure why I saved you, with the knowledge that I have always been an accomplice to your Beast’s actions against the remaining shard of Truth.”

“The remaining shard of Truth… I see. That’s me, then?”

“Indeed.” He dropped his eyes, “I also made a mistake in coming back to tell you why I left. You would’ve died of worry and starvation if I hadn’t returned to lie to you. That was his plan, until something happened and I found myself turning back around.”

“Why though? Why would the Beast want me dead?” And why wasn’t Shadow Milk Cookie allowed to be aware of this plan until now?

The Recluse rounded the bed and sat down. “There is no true and simple answer.” The Recluse frowned, “the unsimple answer is that you’re both the parts of one whole that makes up Shadow Milk Cookie. Even that piece of him that you hold within you isn’t the complete self. You will know this, should you ever reunite. You’ve been split for a while now, conflicting pieces of you battling for power. The Light of Deceit couldn’t control him anymore because he fell in love, and Truth began blossoming in his soul jam. And thus, the only time he was able to control the body of Shadow Milk Cookie was when you, Blueberry Milk, were asleep. That’s also why he did all he has in recent days…” he stood up, an unsettling light shining upon his face, “To make you want to come here. Do you remember what happened before you went to sleep every time?”

Blueberry Milk thought about it. Most recently, right after the heartbreak of Silent Salt Cookie’s death. Before that, an argument he had with Pure Vanilla. And before that… he was afraid, because his soul jam was turning over. And then before that, the real kicker: after the academy, he wanted to escape. The Beast had talked to him then, presented a question to him.

“What really lies beneath all that exists in this world?”

The answer was now staring him in the face, despite how little thought he’d given it before.

“I thought he meant in general… This links back to those motivations…”

“That it does.” Pure Vanilla stepped forward, around him, “What’s the pattern, hm? What causes you to come to this world, to create it in your mind space, to—“ he grabbed Blueberry Milk’s shoulder, “I’ll cut to the chase, Blue. What motivates you to be who you are right now?”

No. Not again. “I come to this world because I want to escape reality. And I only feel like running away when I’m…”

“Scared.” Pure Vanilla finished. “It’s the first thing you do, every time.”

That’s why the Recluse could hit him with those words. “Who are you, Pure Vanilla Cookie?”

The Recluse’s gaze warmed into false fondness, “Misfortune. Doubt. Regret. You, Sage, are the only pure piece left of us. And for that reason, I was tasked with ensuring you never make it past the barrier between worlds. But seeing as His soul jam is so bright with Truth, I suppose I have no choice but to extinguish you to keep the balance.” Both his hands reached to strangle Blueberry Milk Cookie, causing him to stumble backwards. Immediately he fought and clawed at the Recluses hands to loosen them, to no avail.

They crashed down onto the mattress, only there was no mattress and everything beneath him was the void. The Recluse was still holding tight onto him, expression unreadable with motion blur but he could make it out that he looked completely remorseless.

“Ghjk! Clusie, this isn’t you! Let go of me.”

“You’re right. It isn’t me.” He shoved and kicked but Recluse was just too strong, gnarling like a dog and showing off his fangs, “It’s you.”

Yet again, Blueberry Milk Cookie’s vision faded into the blackness and his limbs betrayed him.

God no, not again, not again, not again, N-

Chapter Text

Never had it brought Shadow Milk Cookie more relief to wake up in the soft vanillian sheets of his dear Pure Vanilla Cookie’s bed. 

His body was light and well rested, and the sun was shining like it was soon to say goodbye. What time was it?

Moving to the window to examine the sun’s position, he found it hidden behind clouds. A storm on the horizon? Hopefully, Nilly wasn’t going to be late coming back from his shopping haul. The rain today would be fierce, from the look of the clouds.

To amuse himself, he sat down and started writing. It was a pure waste of letter paper, but he started scribbling and doodling until a new idea struck and he started on a new page to write down a message for Pure Vanilla; one he would seal like an offical letter and leave on his desk: 

“My dearest, darlingest Pure Vanilla Cookie,

I’ll skip the pleasantries: There’s a lot I haven’t been telling you. It’s difficult to articulate what I’ve been thinking of since last night, seeing as all the ideas running through my head right now are half baked musings which would be far too embarrassing to put on the page yet. Don’t worry, you’ll get them eventually.”

His handwriting got thinner as his hands grew nervous, 

“I’d like to write them all for you, one day. Witches, I’d sing them for you if you’d let me. It’s out of my character to care so much, but you seemed to have bewitched me, and now I have no other choice than to spend every moment of this infatuation in motion.”

Finally, his pen pressure returned to normal as he reached the part he wanted to write,

“Point is, the world feels like it stops when we’re together. Deep down, I wish I could stay like this forever. I found alone myself in your bed this morning fantasizing about a life where I wasn’t the cruel, untouchable monster and you weren’t the saintlike hero who runs a kingdom when he’s not extinguishing my kind with the power of friendship. How incredibly melodramatic I know, it’s my thing! I can’t help but imagine what your friends would say.

Wait. Why am I pouring my heart out like this? Do you see what you’ve done to me, Pure Vanilla Cookie? Next thing I know, I’ll be dancing down streets, smiling to strangers. Don’t tell your friends about this please. It would put me to shame with all my great acts of terrorism if they knew I had a weakness, and that it’s you.”

He finished the letter, left his signature and sealed it. Maybe there was too much honesty in it for a beast of Deceit, but this was the kingdom of Truth, and he had fallen for its ruler. Former ruler. Whatever.

As if fate and its cruelty saw him smiling, it placed the next pawn in the room with a high-pitched gasp. 

His heart shattered upon impact from the sound.

He whipped around to see Candy Apple cookie on the threshold, dark circles under her eyes and clothes stained by jam and spice. His chest ached like seams being ripped apart. “Star Pupil… it’s— “

“Too late.” She said before he could go on, “We were never supposed to end up here.”

He didn’t have to ask to know what she meant; her hardened eyes said it all. This time, there would be no escaping the Truth, of everything he’d done to lead them both to this point. He would have no choice but to face all his faults. 

She took off running before the word ‘Sorry’ could even drop from his lips. Even so, it wouldn’t make a difference if he managed to get one word out, or one hundred, or none at all. He knew it was counterintuitive to chase after her when all he wanted was to assure her much had changed, and that he would be different from now on.

Nobody would even believe that. Not even the dearest audience; Shadow Milk cookie only cares for himself. Perhaps he was not chasing her to apologize. Perhaps he wanted to catch her and punish her for her insubordination whilst in the hands of the Great Destroyer.

What! That wasn’t true, he would never do that. It wasn’t even her fault that she ended up in the hands of another beast!

Oh, that’s right, it really isn’t her fault.

It’s his.

He stumbled across the gravel path leading out to the gardens. The hedges concealed Candy Apple cookies last move, her whereabouts now unknown to him. It was like she was never there.

The storm clouds had grown thicker since he’d last checked, coating everything in a grey hue. The last vestiges of sunlight were shining on a single spot; an apple with two large bites taken out of it, attached with a note that simply read: “The storm is coming. It is too late for you now.”

It must have been sort of intuition that guided him back up the path, thinking only of Burning Spice cookie and what he could do to Pure Vanilla if he wasn’t warned.

Bursting through the door, disguised again as a servant girl, he rushed to Pure Vanilla’s side. The delegates he was meeting with looked at her panicked state as if she were crazy. She certainly felt the part for all the strings of thought happening simultaneously in her mind trying to piece the mystery together before she spoke. “Your majesty, I have an incredibly urgent message.” She handed the piece of paper over and rushed into an explanation. “I saw someone in your bedroom, whom I suspect was working with Burning Spice Cookie. This was the note I found when I lost her in the courtyard.”

“So, it is a warning from the Spice tribes. They’re going to strike?” He said, turning his face up to her. Her nerves rattled.

“Yes sir.”

“Can you describe the girl to me?”

The servant girl described exactly what she saw; a white-haired girl with twin apples on her head, dress stained by spice. A delegate asked if the girl could be identified if they sent out guards.

“She’s not in the kingdom anymore.” The servant girl said. “She must have used a portal to return to the spice kingdom.”

“Ah. The mystery of yesterday,” Pure Vanilla said, keeping his cool demeanor, “Tell us about that hypothesis.”

“It’s not a hypothesis.” She said with too much certainty, “Candy Apple Cookie can use magic to create portals in and out of certain places. Although the distance she traveled must’ve spanned two continents, so—”

“Candy Apple Cookie.” Pure Vanilla leaned forward. “Interesting. Who is that, remind us?”

“…oh, shoot.” Shadow Milk said under his breath. Returning to the servant girl act, he smiled— no, don’t smile, this is serious, “Your majesty, I’m sure you remember your time with the great deceiver.” Okay, he could do this. This was purely an act, for the delegates! Yes, so long as he could explain the situation, he might be able to get Pure Vanilla alone so they could discuss this.

“Very vividly.” Pure Vanilla said after a pause.

“She is… eh, one of his former minions?” You’re letting on too much. Everyone’s gonna think you work for him. “She’s quite well known. I’m surprised you don’t remember!”

“No, I remember.” He said, “But nobody else knows her name, let alone what she looks like. Isn’t that right?” He turned to his conglomerates, “Raise your hand if you’ve ever encountered a Candy Apple Cookie.” When none of the delegates or generals raised their hands, Pure Vanilla turned back to her with an amused grin. “Interesting.”

“Wait, no, you told me about her in privacy, that’s how I know!” She even held up the spice-stained apple, “I know you don’t trust my deductions because I’m no more than a servant girl, but I assure you, I am telling the truth here.”

“Well then.” Pure Vanilla interlaced his fingers, “Go on. I’ll hear you out.”

The servant girl wasn’t sure what to say now. Pure Vanilla was playing his character too well, and if he kept up this questioning attitude, he might accidentally root out the Deceit hiding within his kingdom of Truth.

But the servant girl could not doubt herself, or else the act might yet again be unconvincing. “Well. Candy Apple cookie used to work for the Beast of Deceit. If she’s now colluding with the Spice tribes ruled by the Great Destroyer, perhaps he has a plan to send them against your kingdom?”

“But that would make no sense.” Pure Vanilla countered, “He has no incentive to convince a warmonger to fire on this peaceful kingdom.”

“That’s true.” The servant girl said, “But the Beast of Destruction doesn’t care what or who is at stake, the tides of change will swallow all. In his words.”

“His words.” Pure Vanilla turned his face up to look at the servant girl through his lashes, “Do you have a source for that?”

“Excuse me?” She said. “Don’t you trust me?”

He hummed. “I’m curious as to how you know all of this; could it be that you are involved with a beast cookie yourself?”

“No! Nothing of the sort!”

“Then how do you know she’s the Former minion to the Beast of Deceit?”

Her heart stuttered to a stop. “Did I say that?”

“By chance you did, little Blueberry.” The nickname drove an arrow through her already faltering heart. Where had she heard it before? “The evidence is stacked against you, dear. Here we are in the peaceful Vanilla Kingdom when a servant girl with far too many teeth comes in insisting the spice tribes are set for my kingdom, and all because the Great Deceiver’s alleged minion is pointing them in that direction… well, what do you think?”

“I… I don’t know what to think.” She said, “I’ve been nothing but loyal to you this entire time. I could never imagine working for a beast cookie, let alone such harbingers of chaos.”

“Loyalty. Yet another point of fascination to me.” He stepped around the table to approach her, “Rumor has it, nobody even hired you into my staff; you appeared one day, spoke to no one and listened too closely to the kingdom’s gossip.” He leaned in to match her height, tilting her chin up, “Isn’t it suspicious that I haven’t seen you all day, only for you to seemingly have found an agent of Deceit in my bedroom?”

“Are you trying to imply I let her in?”

“No.” He stepped back and leaned against the table, all eyes on him, “But perhaps there’s a reason she would run away from you, especially if you were her Former master.”

Shadow Milk Cookie was ripped right out of character. “Excuse me?!” 

The delegates all whispered in confusion, eyes darting between Pure Vanilla cookie and the servant girl. In the midst of so much chaos, Pure Vanilla’s calm, dead pupils stared ahead like the low remains of a fire, red hot coals that put waves in the air around it. “I told you that you couldn’t pretend forever.”

“Pure Vanilla cookie…” he said, voice pitching, “What are you doing? The fate of your kingdom is at stake here! This isn’t the time…”

“Maybe.” He plucked a stray leave off his staff, letting it wither to dust in his hands, “We both know the great destroyer is after you, Shadow Milk cookie. If you’re really so concerned about me and my kingdom, Get Out.” His eyes dropped to the dust sprinkling out of his palm, “But you won’t leave, will you? Then, was it your plan to lead them here?”

“How could you think that!” He said, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

Pure Vanilla shut his eyes. “Yes you did,” he said, all emotion gone from his voice, “You’re just in denial about it now, because some kind of fondness has taken a hold of you. Really, I should’ve been more careful. You convinced everybody that you were helpless in your situation, that the great destroyer coming after my kingdom was some inevitable consequence of your hubris. But all along, you were just pretending to be weak, so that he would be led here. So you could destroy the world around me like you promised.”

“That’s not true! That was never the plan.” He felt his knees give out. “Please believe me, if I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve done so. I didn’t know he’d be looking for me like this; you have to believe me.”

“You’re the cookie of Deceit. Why should I?” His eyes lidded, “Rotten to the core, just like your colleagues. There’s hardly a spark of good left in you.”

“But you’re wrong.” He insisted, “There’s still good within me, just like there’s evil within you. Please, Nilly, I—” caught the shadows behind the table before it was too late. “You’re not Nilly, are you?”

Pure Vanilla hummed, sights set on the unbitten nails at the ends of his fingers. “You’re not beyond repair, that’s for sure,” his gaze tracked back up to Blueberry Milk cookie, “But I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for me to fix you now, little Blueberry.”

Blueberry Milk cookie rose to his feet. “I should’ve guessed from the moment you had Candy Apple cookie with her apples untouched. This is all another dream, isn’t it?”

The shadows extended to cover the whole room in darkness, leaving him and the Recluse the only ones standing, face to face. Blueberry Milk summoned his key staff in preparation for a fight.

“Time is a long spiral. It’s been a while since we were face to face, no?”

Blueberry Milk pointed the staff at the creature, whose shadow he could nearly see holding a hand above the Recluse’s head like a puppeteer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and it doesn’t matter: I heard you say you were going to take my life and I won’t let that happen.”

“Oh Blueberry Milk, it seems you’ve stolen his pride; you were never meant to have so much control over our body anyway. But it seems you’ve stolen so much of him, now I have no choice but to exterminate you, before you crumble our reputation.”

“Is that what this is about? Reputation? Should a Beast cookie really be so insecure about his image to others - We already have all the power we need.”

“And so long as you’re the dominant side, he won’t ever use it for its intended purpose.” He loomed closer, “Tell me, was what you said about wanting a peaceful future really true?”

Blueberry Milk cookie stayed in place, “Yes. It’s true. And I will fight for it if I have to.”

The Recluse laughed. He kept going, until his eyes held tears. “You’re so silly. Just like that pathetic vanilla cookie you treasure so much. Maybe if you’re lucky, you’ll see each other at heavens gate; but then again, an abomination like you should never be seen among the stars.”

Finally it launched its first strike which he moved out of the way to dodge, “you’ve had your fun, little Blueberry. But that cruel arbiter you call fate is calling, it says the balance must be restored.”

“Must you extinguish me to reach that goal?” He swiped his staff in an arc to create a slash of magic, “True balance would restore peace, where you only want to plunge the world into more chaos!”

“We are not a hero. Your soul is rotted by greed and malice. Your ego will always come ahead of your humility. If there is any good to be found within the Cookie of Deceit, it is a mere speck, completely useless and utterly meaningless.”

The Beast lashed out with his claw and Blueberry Milk dodged backwards, “It's your call!” It lashed again and Blueberry Milk scored a hit. It screamed inhumanly and threw Pure Vanilla back into the fray. “Live in unconsciousness, or die fighting for your freedom, you will not succeed us!”

“Yes I will!” He yelled back, “I know my light is stronger than your darkness.” He pushed against the forces of the Recluse’s magic, “Maybe I’m weak in comparison to all your awful cruelty, but without me, you’d be Nothing!”

For a moment the darkness shattered, and they were no longer in the vanilla kingdom. Just where they were instead was a mystery. A long hallway lined by constellations, a hospital where the floor was too cold for his feet, or the checkered patterns of the spire. Either way, the Beast slammed him down on his back and the floor cracked around him like it was made of glass. “Your love for this world will not grant you a second chance.” It was choking him, tears lining its eyes, “You will suffer, and wait, and suffer again. There is no sanctuary, Blueberry. You don’t deserve this light. And thus, I must extinguish it.”

“No!” He could feel his lungs give out. Even screaming proved futile. His body was breaking apart, all the pain and hope flickering and fading like a lightbulb on its last breath. He was in complete darkness, sinking down. It felt like water around him.

Cold water.

Freezing. 

The light wasn’t coming this time; he was sure of it. His lungs couldn’t take in air, and the heat of his body was fading with every second he stayed in this place. Soon, Blueberry Milk Cookie would be no more, and the light of Deceit would no longer hold any Truth within it. Inevitably, the balance would be set, whether it be corrected or only brought further away from it. 

“Blueberry Milk cookie, Blueberry Milk cookie!”

Something warm closed around his consciousness, engulfing it completely. “Blueberry Milk cookie, wake up. Do you still have magic left?”

Nonsense. He hardly even had a body, a consciousness. How could he have any power left?

He felt weak. Like a candle flame on its last breath. “It is not too late to make this right. Please let me help.”

Something warm filled him, giving him form once more. The warmth slipped down to his wrist, holding it tight. “Open your eyes, my dear. Pure Vanilla cookie would not give up on you, and neither will I.”

His eyes slowly regained their sight, and when the blur focused, he saw a bright entity, loosely shaped into a cookie. “I would request that you do not give up on yourself either.”

But why? “I don’t deserve this.” He said weakly. “I’m not enough for him.”

Don’t delude yourself like that. Without you there is no purpose in his existence.

The light pulled him close, embracing him once again. I was with you once. I know what it is to feel insignificant. Truth is an ever-changing virtue, but that does not mean it holds no value.

It simply means you must take more care to protect your own Truth. Your vitality. 

“I have to stop the Beast.” Blueberry Milk cookie said, “I have to protect Pure Vanilla cookie. And his kingdom.”

Oh Blueberry my dear. What about his friends, and their kingdoms? Care you not for the rest of the world? 

“No.” He said, the strength returning to his limbs, “I said I want a peaceful ending and I’ll fight damn well for it. I’ll cross the boundary of the world, defy fate if I have to.”

The light had no face, but he could tell from the way it brightened that it approved.

The boundary, you say? It’s a very good thing the power to do so is within you. The light pulled back, kissed the mark on his forehead, I have every faith in your ability to achieve your goals. Good luck, Blueberry Milk cookie.

The light of Truth dispelled until he was left in total darkness.

What now? the Beast had probably alright overtaken his body, and now it was just his spirit, and the loose physical form provided to him by the Light of Truth. They were outside of Shadow Milk’s consciousness. The dark side of the moon, perhaps. But then again, if he was still even Shadow Milk in any sense, it shouldn’t be so difficult to… to return to the other realm, find away to his body’s surface. Regain access to himself.

Or maybe, what he needed to do wasn’t regain access to his body. Maybe he needed to go deeper into the other realm. Deeper still. Back in time, to the week in the spire where Pure Vanilla had been trapped.

He once had the ability to control time and fate itself. 

Now having lost that ability on a grander scale, maybe that meant he was lost… but in a pocket dimension he controlled, the only one whose fate needed to be spun was his. His and whoever else lived inside the spire at that time.

And lucky for Blueberry Milk cookie, Shadow Milk cookie had long since already done the calculation to travel back. He’d been doing so, in another timeline, for just over a year and two months. 

Blueberry Milk held his hands in front of him. Time and space unfurled, stretching and squishing and unwinding and being put back together in new positions. Maybe it was impossible to change the fate of every living being, but without a proper body, he was no more than a ghost anyhow. And thus, unliving. The fate of the dead is miraculously simple. 

Soon enough the magic faded out, and he floated through the frigid temperatures, the ivory walls of the spire coming into view. As he closed in on it, new patches of white and gold opened and watched him with benevolent curiosity. Passing through them felt like being dipped into a warm pool in comparison to getting thrown back into the freezing cold of the dark void and its ocean dark eyes.

When he landed on a walkway overlooking a silver courtyard with bunnies trimming hedges to look like their master in various acrobatic poses, Blueberry Milk felt his body grow more solid. And with that, his chest hummed with a tether. Somewhere, the light of Truth that remained in this world was calling to the pieces he’d been gifted by the one in his. 

He needed to find its source. That would hopefully lead him to Pure Vanilla cookie. And then what? He’d have to ask for help. Witches pray he or his version of Shadow Milk cookie knew how to help.

He followed the pulsating feeling up to a tower with only one one window, feeling it get stronger with every beat of his heart. When he reached the window he made sure to look inside to confirm before knocking; and was frankly a little confounded by what he saw.

Pure Vanilla was lying on his back, eyes shut, soul jam pressed against his chest. He was wearing that tight black bodysuit, with black socks that went up to his thighs, lined by white gold lace at the top. He was tracing circles into his soul jam like he was waiting for something to happen. His brow furrowed and he leaned his head back on the pill-oh wait!

Blueberry Milk cookie knocked on the window before he could go any further to spare them both the humiliation. To say Pure Vanilla threw the soul jam was an understatement. It could’ve shattered with the force of the impact against the wall. 

Guess that proves Truth is still pretty vital in this realm, if it’s strong enough to resist that amount of force.

Pure Vanilla got up and wrapped a blanket around himself then moved over to the window to undo the lock.

“You’re back early, Master Shad-Ohhh you’re not Shadow Milk cookie. But maybe you are. Why is your hair sparkly?”

Blueberry Milk tumbled through the window rather ungracefully and got up on his hands and knees, “I am Shadow Milk cookie! just… broken. Separated. Like an egg. Whatever, I need your help.” He got up, “Let me explain, I’m from a different universe, my body was stolen by some evil alter ego of me and now, if I don’t get back in, everyone I care about could be in grave danger!! And that’s like, three people, but—”

“Slow down.” Pure Vanilla said, “From the top. Who. Where. How?”

“We don’t have time for English class questions!” He grabbed Pure Vanilla’s shoulders, “the Beast of Deceit owns my body, and I can’t get it back until you help me.”

“Well.” Pure Vanilla cookie said, “You and I have one thing in common, that’s for sure.”

“Perfect, so— wait, What?”

“Nothing, nevermind. Don’t even worry about it.” He pried himself free of Blueberry Milk Cookie’s grip. “So, how’d you come here? Did he send you or did you make your way over on your own volition?”

“Does it matter?”

“Mm, well you would wanna hope you made your way here by yourself or else that portal you went through to get here is loooong closed.”

Blueberry Milk shifted his weight, “actually, I didn’t come here through a portal. I kinda… time traveled.”

“Time Traveled? That’s new.” Pure Vanilla pulled a silk dressing gown off the back of the chair in front of his dresser and tied it around himself, “Aside from being body snatched, what could you possibly need My help for?”

“I don’t… know. I’m only half of Shadow Milk cookie, I don’t even know what he’ll do without me.” He blinked a couple times and then gasped, “Wait, why are you acting like this a regular occurrence?”

Pure Vanilla shrugged. “It’s not. But you’re not my first time, sorry to say it again.”

Blueberry Milk Cookie tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Again… okay.” He took the seat in front of the dresser once Pure Vanilla moved away and put his hands against his eyes. “I don’t really know what to do now that I’m here. I don’t even know half of why I’m here in the first place.”

“Start with your name, maybe.” Pure Vanilla sat down on the edge of his bed. “Pure Vanilla cookie to friends, Truthless Recluse to everybody else. Except for Shadow Milk cookie.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry. Stay long enough, you might find out his penchant for nicknames has been thoroughly practiced.” Pure Vanilla flipped his hair, “But what’s your name? Maybe I can help you.”

“Blueberry Milk cookie.” He said easily, “I was in a universe with a Recluse too, but all the memories from that world were false. It was always a construct to trap me.”

“Ohhh. A dream universe? I know you!” He smiled, and then his expression soured, “Oh, you’re fucked.”

“Am I?” Blueberry Milk’s voice pitched, “Oh god. So that means you can’t help me?!”

“No, no.” Pure Vanilla tilted his head side to side. “It’s not too late. Just the eleventh hour.” He nodded politely then looked at his soul jam in the corner of the room and a guilty smile broke out, “Gosh, you could’ve waited twenty minutes to knock. Now I’m going to be on edge this entire time, no pun intended.”

“Oh, that?” Blueberry Milk’s eyes turned none too gentle, “I wasn’t going to bring that up.”

“For the better. Brace yourself, there is a reason I can’t call myself Pure Vanilla anymore.” ‘Pure Vanilla’ stood up and stretched. “Well, how about a tour? I find that movement always helps me gather my thoughts.”

Pure Vanilla walked over to his closet and pulled out new clothes. It’s no wonder he’d have multiple outfits if he’d been living here for quite some time. Blueberry Milk cookie stayed seated and watched him get dressed; black shorts, navy long sleeved button up with bishop sleeves and silver rose-shaped buttons on the cuffs. He tied a gold ribbon around his collar and attached his soul jam to it. Over it he put his usual cape and shawl, navy with the gold patterns. He kept the long socks with the gold lace around the top, but he had fluffy white slippers to protect his feet now.

“This is the first time I think I’ve ever seen you wear shoes…” Blueberry Milk admitted. 

“Oh really? I guess that’s not a surprise: I only have these because Milky got worried about me catching another cold. His words, not mine. My words are that he doesn’t want to keep having the floors cleaned to accommodate for my bare feet. It drives up cost.”

“He pays his servants?!”

“Do you? I wouldn’t know.” Pure Vanilla approached the mirror to check his appearance and adjust the ribbon to sit above the shawl. “I think we’re ready. C’mon, tell me everything you know.”

He took his staff off the wall and beckoned Blueberry Milk to follow him. They started descending the staircase as Blueberry Milk recounted his last memories, round and around until Pure Vanilla put his hand to the wall. “You remember what happens when you make too much noise in this tower specifically, right?” He whispered.

“The stairs become slippery or flatten out into a slide.” Blueberry Milk whispered back.

“Yeah.” His mischievous grin returned, “You wanna slide down to the bottom?”

“Is that safe…?”

Pure Vanilla held his staff closer and yelled, “Only one way to find out!” The stairs indeed flattened out into a slide and Blueberry Milk screamed as he twisted around and around until they reached the bottom and narrowly avoided getting impaled by a wall of spikes by Pure Vanilla’s quick summoning of a portal that brought them into a purple hallway covered in keyhole patterns. 

“Heh, wasn’t that fun? Still haven’t convinced him to remove the spikes. That was the result of a petty argument, don’t think too deeply about it.”

“So wait— I’m still a little confused about what you’re… job is, in this place? Like, if I’m right you’ve been living here for a whole year and more. So does that mean you’re another of his servants, like Candy Apple or Black Sapphire?”

“Hmm, you could say that, but it’s a bit more than that. I don’t…” he stopped before they turned the corner, “It’s a complicated affair. If you’re willing to lay all your notions of judgement and prudence at the door, or—” he turned the corner and a hundred doors on the floor, ceiling and wall opened or closed to greet them, “One of the doors.”

“Witches mercy.”

“Yeah. There’s a lot to say about me and my darli— master Shadow Milk cookie.” He turned his eyes down to the floor. “He really does care, I’ll start there. “

“Okay…”

“You know what?” He looked up at Blueberry Milk cookie, “How about I fix you something to eat? You’re probably starving after all those days having gone without food.”

“Oh, thank you.” They started walking across the hall avoiding any doors, Blueberry Milk following Pure Vanillas lead, “Wait, how did you know?”

“I saw it. I was taking notes on you from afar. Do you remember the letter— Wait, of course you do. You must’ve if you came here.”

“So you can see into other people’s dreams?” At a nod from Pure Vanilla Blueberry Milk gaped, “so you also saw—”

“Yup. And all fourteen of those little escapades. Oh, I have much to say about that, but I’m going to let everything else about this place sink in first. Try not to look at the pictures in the next hall too long.”

 *

They made it to a kitchen, blocked off by a bunch of mice with various card suit markings on them, blue or white or navy. 

“Excuse me, is the kitchen available today?” Pure Vanilla asked politely. 

“No Mister. We’re still doing it up. Them painters have been real diligent, the lord of lies let ’em have free rein on the ingredients while they work. Somes a’sayings they got a book for it and all.”

“Aww. That’s my recipe book,” he said sweetly. “Well, do you know if any other kitchens are free?”

“Just down the hall to the left,” it sniffed and turned back to work.

“Mhm. Thank you~!” He grabbed Blueberry Milk’s arm and brought him the opposite way. “I am so sorry, Blue. I didn’t realise they were still renovating it. But not to worry, we will just use one of the fake kitchens!”

He chose not to ask what he meant by fake kitchens. Knowing the spire of Deceit, anything could or couldn’t count as fake.

When they reached what looked to be an innocently normal looking kitchen, Pure Vanilla looked around and opened the fridge. “Oh, perfect.” He pulled out a tray with a live chicken and placed it in the sink. There were far too many bottles of dish soap next to it, Pure Vanilla took the purple one and started scrubbing the chicken down. “I’m thinking a southern fried style, that’s universal, no?”

“That,” Blueberry Milk said, “That is a live chicken. I don’t think those are edible. Especially not with soap.”

“Well,” Pure Vanilla said granting him a peek of that sly smile he was sure Shadow Milk cookie would’ve swooned over, “Not everything is as you think in this place.” He took the sopping wet and soapy chicken and put it back in the fridge.

“I literally saw normal food in there, what do we need the chicken for?”

“Patience, Milky— Blue. Sorry, I forgot you’re not him. Anyway. That food is all poisoned with lies, if you eat it, you’ll be throwing up the entire way through my little tour. And as previously established, Shadow Milk has an extreme fixation on keeping the floors clean. Ah, don’t look so worried. He has magic, he’ll handle his shit.”

Blueberry Milk perked up. “Sorry?”

Pure Vanilla took a seat up on the counter, kicking his feet about. “You’re forgiven! But we have a time limit here, so tell me something incredibly important; why did your Beast monster thingy want to kill you so bad?”

Blueberry Milk paused to think. Why, indeed? Well, starting from square one, this all started as a way to punish him, right? The split must’ve happened pretty soon after he lost his fight with burning spice cookie, maybe not the exact night of his arrival in dark cacao, but certainly— “The soul fusion!”

“Yes?”

“Pure Vanilla once brought his soul jam too close to mine!” Blueberry Milk started pacing, “After that, a whole bunch of bologna happened and I remembered waking up and—” pieces were all falling into place, “But the split must’ve been truly sealed when I took him to the academy. The night I was first sent into the dream was after I told him the Truth about my past with silent salt cookie. the Beast said I was becoming weak.”

“And?”

“And, whatever it was that he saw and deemed weak, it was the very same pieces of me that chose to do the right thing, which I wouldn’t have done unless the split had happened.”

“Aha, what’s our conclusion?”

“He was using my Fear to control Shadow Milk cookie,” he inhaled, “But he wasn’t trying to get rid of me because I was afraid. I was the parts of Shadow Milk cookie that wanted to do the right thing in spite of all that fear. I was the remaining good that was being slowly brought back out by Pure Vanilla’s mercy.”

Pure Vanilla nodded, “Like the Truth within Deceit, you were the Love that remained with mountains worth of Fear. And thus, the mystery begins to be pried further apart, unraveled and uncovered! Cracked, like an egg. But speaking of eggs, I suspect that the chicken is done now.” He hopped off the counter and pulled the fridge open. 

“Wasn’t that— wait, what’s going on?”

Pure Vanilla pulled the tray of chicken out with his bare hands, which was now a steaming plate of southern fried chicken nuggets. “Ta-da! All is truly not as it seems.”

He went over to get another soap and put it in a small bowl which he placed next to the chicken. “Close your eyes and say it ain’t ketchup. Then open them again and believe what you see.”

“Clusie, your hands…” 

Pure Vanilla went over to the sink and put it on full blast. “Yeah, this is totally going to burn my hands worse. How will the scaring ever disappear in these— wow that would you look at that. Ice cold.” he smiled and after rubbing his hands together he pulled them out and turned the sink off. “And the scabbing around my cuticles is gone too— huh! Maybe I should pretend to burn my hands more often.”

“I’m so concerned for you. Couldn’t you use white magic?”

“I could, but it wouldn’t make the scarring go away. And this whole room is cursed to defy your expectations. It was quicker to lie.”

Yep, that sounded like Deceit alright. But, speaking of things that sounded like Deceit… 

Blueberry Milk dipped his first piece of the chicken in the new bowl of ketchup. It still had a soapy aroma to it. “What’s Shadow Milk cookie like in this world?”

Pure Vanilla was mid-chew when his eyes closed in consideration. He swallowed, “Do you think you can handle knowing the answer to that?”

“Is he cruel to you…? I know he’s cruel to others… well, going off the whole defying expectations thing, is he secretly really nice to you?”

“You can put it that way.” Pure Vanilla took his second piece, “He is a Beast Cookie, so it depends on whether you’d hear about him as a Beast or a Cookie.”

Blueberry Milk stared at Pure Vanilla and let whatever expression was on his face at the moment decide for him.

Pure Vanilla caught his curiosity on both ends and turned to reach a high shelf, “He doesn’t torment me so much as he did before. It was initially his goal to see how far he could push me into despair, but I guess upon seeing how happy I was to take care of his servants in the spire, he got… jealous.”

“Of your Love?”

“Of theirs. He wanted… I don’t know. You won’t believe me.”

“I am him. I can believe anything.”

“Alright.” Pure Vanilla pulled two cups out of the high drawer and put them down next to a carton of lemon juice which he was pulling open as he spoke. “I like cooking for people; there’s not a single version of me that doesn’t. I also like helping people with their personal problems. Turns out, his minions were starving and in need of a therapist for how terribly he was neglecting them. Enter me.”

“I see…”

“Oh, we’re not done.” He poured them both cups, “Meanwhile he’s getting jealous of how loved they all made me feel, so he decides to prey on my secret shame around intimacy. At first, I was convinced he’d give up on that like he gave up on stopping me from helping his employees. Well, weeks go by and suddenly he’s in my bed.”

“What? What!?”

“Yeah, I don’t know how to describe that part so we’re going to breeze over it. So, several mysteriously intimate nights, one foster kitten and another six months I couldn’t describe if I tried later… I’m his Doll now.”

“Doll. Like…” Blueberry Milk gestured with his hands. “What Doll?”

“Pin cushion, cuddle pillow, lapdog, lab partner, test subject, head cook and trophy. Trophy in the sense he feels immense pride over getting to keep me. Shh, don’t tell him the price was his entire worldview.”

Oh. Alright. Pure Vanilla tried to smile and the warmth of it was searing. “I told you. Now you’re burdened with this knowledge. Infected, even. Does that sound familiar?”

Blueberry Milk leaned his head on his palm. “Misfortunately so.”