Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The war was over, but peace was still a stranger.

Wind Archer stepped over a scorched helmet half-buried in the dirt, the wind catching on the frayed hem of his cloak. They had driven the last of the enemy into the western gorge, but nothing about the victory felt final.

Peace is seldom temporary, after all. He’s no stranger to the never ending darkness that seems to plague Earthbread, given that he’s a guardian of life energy and protector of peace. This fight for peace was simply one of the many duties he has in his immortal life.

He adjusted his grip on the bow slung over his shoulder, coming to a halt and turning his head to scout the ruins of battle.

Beside him, Milk Cookie came to a halt as well. “The perimeter seems all cleared,” he said, voice low. “We’ll move the wounded back to the outpost by sundown.”

Wind nodded once. His eyes scanned the ridge line. The smoke in the distance had thinned.

They were alone, mostly. Except for—

A soft clack of heels.

Frost Queen Cookie approached from behind, one arm holding her staff, the muddy ground beneath her freezing over and spreading like petals.

“The eastern perimeter is secured.” He said before she could even ask.

“I know,” she replied, gaze distant. “Milk Cookie reported.”

Right.

Frost Queen’s eyes drifted toward the broken horizon, golden sun rays catching on the fractured remains of the once-tall towers. The wind tugged at the edges of Wind’s cloak, as if trying to fill the silence.

“I will never understand the darkness in this world,” she ruminated almost absentmindedly. Though, Wind Archer knows she was far from being an absentminded cookie.

“Neither will I,” he sighed in response, staring up into the purple and orange that dusted the sky.

She lingered for one more breath, and without another word, turned—her footsteps clicking over the frozen trail.

The steps abruptly stopped, causing Wind Archer to turn his eyes from the sky to the icey cookie behind him.

“I received word,” she said, her back still faced to Wind Archer. “Fire Spirit Cookie returns tomorrow at dawn. Their designated area is, too, secured.”

“That is good.” Although Wind Archer never doubted the success of Fire Spirit’s squad, and he’s certain Frost Queen never did either.

The other was silent for a moment, then shifted slightly, ice blooming faintly at her feet. “You will remain stationed at the western edge of camp, and he will be processed through the south.”

“That is also good,” Wind said evenly.

“Regardless of personal tension you are both needed. I suggest you find a way to manage yourselves.” And with that, she continued her walk back, not waiting for Wind Archer’s response.

Not like he had anything to say to that anyway.

For a moment, he watched the ice where she stood slowly melt into the mud. Then, quietly, he searched around the area once more. This was probably the fourth time he’d scouted the area, but one could never be too sure. Anything could be hiding in the stillness.

After all, even his own cautiousness was apparently not enough to prevent that tragedy from happening…

His fingers flexed at his sides. He didn’t allow them to tremble.

No one else called it that, of course. The others avoided naming it outright. Almost as if their refusal to speak of it could un-happen what happened. Alas, you can’t undo what already happened. Life would be so much easier if that were the case.

He shook his head.

He needed to focus.

———

Nightfall had already settled by the time the southern gate creaked open.

Fire Spirit Cookie floated through, the usual cocky smirk replaced by a look of exhaustion. He didn’t speak as he passed the guards.

They moved out of the way on their own.

“Welcome back,” one muttered without meeting his eyes.

Fire gave a faint nod and continued on his path, he didn’t even have the energy to flash a smile right now.

The camp hadn’t changed much. Still gray with ash, still up and bustling on certain areas. Tents were half-mended, and banners were still down.

He passed Milk Cookie near the medical tent. Milk flinched slightly, then offered a too-fast and too-bright of a smile to be considered normal. “Oh—Fire Spirit Cookie! Uh! Didn’t hear you were coming back today.”

“I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Oh. Heh. Right.”

A beat.

Milk’s eyes darted to the left—toward the western barracks—then snapped back like he’d been caught staring at something he wasn’t supposed to.

“Anyways!” He continued. “You should rest. You look like you’ve been through a lot.”

Yeah, that was an understatement.

He continued on.

Immortal being such as himself—and all the other guardians—didn’t need to rest or sleep at regular intervals like all the other cookies, per se. Simply put, their need for rest depends heavily on how much Life Energy they’ve used up.

And he swears he’s going to pass out any minute now.

Thank their strategist for giving him the smallest amount of squad members, ultimately leaving most of the firepower to him.

Ahem. FIREpower. Hahh… still got it.

Fire Spirit chuckled to himself, just barely forming a smile to do so.

WITCHES, HE’S SO TIRED.

He made it to the barracks after what felt like a forever of floating.

Financier Cookie stood over a table littered with scattered maps and coded scrolls. She didn’t look up when Fire entered.

“You’re not supposed to be back until tomorrow.”

“Well I’m back anyways.”

The other sighed. “Of course.”

“So,” Fire said flatly, looking around. “Where am I staying?”

Financier didn’t say anything at first. Then eventually, without looking up, she muttered.

“Stay anywhere, there are no vacant tents at the moment because someone couldn’t stay on schedule.“

Fire groaned.

“Just refrain from going to the south area… it’s where he’s staying.” She added in a low grumble.

Fire paused.

“I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t have to.”

He really wasn’t going to ask but alright. He’s too tired to prove his statement.

Stay anywhere, huh?

———

Fire Spirit slowly blinked himself awake—or rather, he felt a chilly presence messing with his fire, abruptly ruining his sleep.

He got up, stretching. So apparently ‘anywhere’ turned out to be the cold, unforgiving ground, because of how exhausted he was. He can’t remember it, but he can reasonably assume he passed out moments after stepping foot outside the barracks.

“You were not supposed to be here this early.”

Ah, there’s that chilly presence!

“Frostyy, heyyy, how’re you doing?”

Still, the rest was enough to restore a portion of his energy.

Or maybe his whole energy? He doesn’t feel like a dying ember anymore!

Frost Queen seemed unbothered by the nickname, and his attitude, and the fact that he arrived earlier than planned. The sun was high now.

She sighed. “Your tent has been raised. Milk Cookie will bring you there.” Said Cookie was already beside her, already making his way over to Fire Spirit.

“Go now.” She finished before walking off—presumably to glare other cookies to death.

Rephrase what he said earlier—unbothered wasn’t the right word. It was more like unamused.

Yeah that’s the word.

Fire Spirit snickered to himself as he followed the shorter cookie in white cladding.

“You know, I don’t even need to rest anymore.” First spirit started, the smug grin coming back.

“It would still be optimal for you to know where your new tent is located,” Milk cookie replied.

Fire Spirit kinda liked Milk cookie. He was like a tamer, more polite version of Frost Queen’s demeanor—no offense to her, honest!

“The war is over, isn’t it? My duties are done and I can just flyyy away from here, back to my own place.”

“…There are reports you still need to do.”

Fire Spirit groaned. Ughh, he swears this is the last time he’s involving himself with normal-cookie-problems.

He could’ve just fought the darkness solo, like a cool and misunderstood vigilante. He didn’t need to join hands with anyone.

He says that, but the truth is… he’s still kind of salty he didn’t get to fight alongside Wind Archer.

“FIRE SPIRIT DO NOT LOOK TO YOUR RIGHT!”

He looked to his right.

He barely had time to process anything before his hands possessively cupped Wind Archer’s face—

And they were kissing.

Possessed. In the literal sense. By the way.

One moment, two veteran fighters and esteemed elemental guardians; the next, locked in a full, uncontrollable, desperate, and embarrassingly passionate kiss in the middle of the pathway. Between tents. In broad daylight.

Nearby voices stopped mid-conversation.

Someone dropped a pan as a sudden gust of strong wind swept through the camp.

Milk Cookie screamed.

And the vicinity’s heat index spiked by about five degrees.

The two of them closed their eyes and broke apart.

“Missed me that much?” Fire managed, eyes still closed, a smug grin on his face.

Wind Archer couldn’t see Fire Spirit, but he could hear the smug smile plastered all over Fire Spirit’s face as he said that. “Do not speak to me.” Wind Archer pushed himself off as he said it.

Then, from somewhere offscreen, a low mutter was heard.

“…They’re cursed again, aren’t they.”

Yes. Yes they were.

———

Financier cookie paced back and forth inside the tent, “We told them to avoid eye contact!“

Frost Queen sighed, exhausted. “It seems that remedies can only go so far… Are you certain that these spellcasters can dispel this… curse?”

“They’re the best in all of Crispia.”

Frost Queen cookie could only blindly hope those words held truth. After a moment, she gave a quiet, resolute nod.

Chapter Text

Fire Spirit had been avoiding Wind Archer all day.

That was hard to do, considering they were stationed in the same base, shared overlapping responsibilities, and would be together in the same tent for a meeting here and there.

The solution during those meetings, such as the one he’s in right now? They’re both blindfolded.

No eye contact means no accidental makeouts. Simple as that.

“It wasn’t my intention to glance at him.” Wind Archer explained himself, his voice as composed as ever.

“You were informed of his whereabouts, were you not? One would assume even the most basic awareness would have been sufficient to avoid such… folly from ensuing.”

Frost Queen usually sounded chilly all the time. But this time, Fire Spirit could feel the chill running deeper. He could tell, even when blindfolded, that Frost Queen was actually fed up with them.

“There is only one barracks in this camp…” Wind grumbled, still polite, but there was an undertone of displeasure, like he was in the verge of snapping back any time now.

Wind Archer never snapped.

That would be a sight to see though.

Except if that were to happen, he can’t actually see it, lest he risk suddenly connecting his mouth with Wind Archer mid-snap.

Not that he wanted to! He respected Wind’s personal space. And dignity. And soul. And that little bit of hair that always falls in front of his—

“Fire Spirit.” Frost Queen cut in.

“Huh?”

“You’re smiling, do you find this amusing?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He drawled, adjusting his blindfold like it would somehow fix his face. “This is how I always look.”

Financier pinched the bridge of her nose.

Wind Archer sighed.

He could hear Frost Queen snapping to her feet, the air in the tent growing colder by the second. “Do you take the title of elemental guardian for a joke?”

“This curse. This spectacle. Do you not see how it undermines everything we stand for? We are not court jesters—we are meant to command respect.” Her voice was sharp.

Fire Spirit opened his mouth. Closed it again. Okay. Maybe he shouldn’t have smirked. Or joked. Or breathed.

Wind Archer shifted stiffly in his seat, still perfectly composed, but even he wasn’t offering his usual diplomatic interjection.

Fire sat up straighter, trying to fix his posture, his tone, his everything. “I didn’t mean any disrespect,” He said quickly. “Really. I know what this role means. What we all fought for. I—”

Never asked for this

“—apologize for that.”

No one said anything.

Fire Spirit heard the quiet rustle of fabric—Frost Queen sitting back down. “The two of you are to be escorted back to the Creme Republic before the break of dawn, she said. “A spellcaster shall await your arrival to assess the matter.”

A pause. Then she added—

“You both best pray that the affliction be undone, lest this foolishness stain the name of the guardians any further.”

The meeting went on as usual after that. The topic moved past them—the current situation in Millenial Tree’s camp, what their next course of action would be, and just about anything else but them and the curse.

Fire Spirit mostly stayed quiet through everything, only offering his insights when necessary or asked for. Wind Archer, on the other hand, was back to being his usual, sharp, steady, tactical self. He finds it a little ironic, actually, but in a good way. How Wind Archer—a guardian of peace, constantly basking and talking all about it, someone who moved with grace like the wind itself—was tactical, calculated, and reliable in all stages of battle.

Then again, the green guardian trained daily, always preparing for the moment darkness might rise again.

Hot.

That last word wasn’t supposed to slip into his thoughts.

But it was true, wasn’t it?

The sharpness in Wind Archer’s voice when he took control of the conversation, the way his mind seemed to move faster than anyone else’s in the room—it was impressive. And maybe, yeah, a little attractive.

“Meeting dismissed.” Frost Queen broke through his thoughts again.

With that, Milk Cookie had escorted them both back without a word, still blindfolded. First stop was Wind Archer’s tent. The next was Fire Spirit’s, further out by the perimeter, like an afterthought.

Once inside, Fire Spirit took off his blindfold.

Did he mention that they were given orders to stay inside the tent until tomorrow? Yeah, he doesn’t remember that part either.

He steps out of his tent, floating his way to the gate, only to be stopped by none other than Milk cookie.

How is this cookie everywhere?!

Milk cookie hasn’t even said anything yet and Fire Spirit had already raised his arms, “Okay okay, I’m going back.”

On his way back, his eyes trailed the scorched ground.

Yeah, he was something of genius himself.

———

It was quiet.

Lights were out.

Owls were hooting, wolves howling.

Inside his tent, Wind Archer lay still, eyes open.

He disliked being confined like this. The fabric walls felt unnatural. The air stale. No rustle of trees. No breeze that spoke to him.

He didn’t need rest, not truly. His body could stand watch until dawn. But orders were orders.

After a few more moments if staring into the ceiling if the tent, he exhaled softly and turned to his side.

If only I was back in the forest…

A soft breeze slipped through the opening of the tent—cool and faintly pine-scented. It almost felt like home.

“Moonlight Cookie… let me rest tonight.” He muttered, closing his eyes.

“Psst, Windy.”

Wind Archer’s eyes snapped open.

He didn’t move at first—perhaps it was a remnant of battle training, or simply disbelief. He’d probably berate himself if he ever mistook that voice for someone else.

And he’s conflicted on how to feel about that.

“…Fire Spirit,” he said, barely louder than a breath, still facing the canvas wall of the tent. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Relax,” came the soft rustling of the flap being nudged further open. “I have my blindfold on.”

“Wait!” He whisper-yelled. “Get out.”

“It won’t be long—“

“Yes, I mean get out so I can put on my blindfold without the risk of seeing you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Once Wind Archer was certain the other was outside, he finally turned to grab the blindfold resting on top of the crate that served as a makeshift table. He wrapped the fabric over his eyes, tying it securely in a knot at the back of his head.

“Okay, you can come back in.”

Fire Spirit ducked under the flap again, crouching low and cautiously shuffling forward in a straight line—well, straight-ish. One arm was stretched forward, the other feeling the air beside him, just in case he accidentally smacked a candle lamp or tripped over something dumb like a pebble.

Then his knee bumped into something solid.

“Shit, sorry, that you?”

Wind Archer let out a soft breath, equal parts sigh and restrained annoyance. “Yes. That is my leg.”

Fire Spirit stayed crouched there, hand hovering in the air like he was touching a force field. “Right. Just making sure.”

Wind Archer didn’t move, but Fire Spirit could feel Wind turning his head slightly. Probably judging.

“Do you plan to stay like that?”

“I’m strategizing my next move,” Fire Spirit grinned.

“Get off my leg.”

Satisfied with that reaction, Fire Spirit moved back and sat beside Wind Archer instead, legs crossed together and his back straight.

They sat in silence for a while. Then Fire Spirit remembered he didn’t really like silence.

“You’re nicer than usual.”

“I am a nice cookie.”

“You know what I meant.”

Wind Archer sighed. “Yes, well, I am not enjoying this predicament I’m in.”

“Hmm,” Fire Spirit hummed, tapping a finger on his knee. “That’s still not right. You’re used to being all by yourself in the forest, aren’t you? I’m sure staying in a tent for a whole day wasn’t that bad.”

“I didn’t dislike the solitude. But it’s not the same.”

Fire Spirit tilted his head slightly even though Wind Archer couldn’t see it.

“Because this isn’t peace,” Wind continued. “It’s containment.”

Yeah that… that makes a lot of sense, actually. Fire Spirit supposed that it was the same for him too. Being holed up inside his tent was neither the most enjoyable nor the most productive thing to do all day.

He even considered burning down his tent at one point, see if it worked as a loophole against his pseudo-house arrest.

“What about you? You’re also acting different.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“For one, you’re not shouting in every sentence.”

Fire Spirit nearly hollered out ‘FIREE!’ just to disprove the other’s statement, but he quickly remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be outside of his tent, much less be in Wind Archer’s.

“Sounds like you want me to start yelling so we get ourselves caught.” He muttered instead.

“Do that and I will personally silence you.”

See, that was the thing with Wind Archer.

He said stuff like that without thinking. Totally serious, totally deadpan—words that could’ve meant a hundred different things in another context. And Fire Spirit hated that his mind always picked the worst possible interpretation.

So yeah, that was more his fault than Wind Archer’s.

“The next thing,” Wind Archer said, tone even, “is that your flames are lower than usual.”

Fire Spirit blinked. “Wait I thought we were talking about personality or whatever! Why are you bringing my flames into this now?!”

He shifted on the mat, glancing in the other’s direction even though he couldn’t see him. “Also, how do you even know? You can’t see me”

“Exactly,” Wind Archer replied, “it’s what I can’t see that has me believing you’ve dimmed them.”

Fire Spirit huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Have you considered that maybe it’s so I don’t burn your tent down?”

“Mm. That would be a first,” Wind Archer said dryly.

“…You think you’re funny, don’t you.”

“No,” Wind Archer said. “But I do think you’re warm.”

…

“Yeah,” Fire Spirit scoffed after a while, “I’m sure you need the warmth after that scolding from Frost Queen.”

He chose to quip, forcing a snicker.

Wind Archer let out a slow breath, unamused. “If I recall correctly, we were both scolded.”

“Sure,” Fire Spirit said, leaning back on his hands, smug.

…Because witches forbid he lets himself slip.

Witches forbid he says too much, or lets too much linger in the silence.

Because Fire Spirit was afraid.

Not of the curse. Not of Frost Queen’s scolding. Not even of the creeping, quiet dark between the trees.

No, what scared him most was this.

Sitting next to Wind Archer like this. Feeling the way their shoulders barely touched. How natural it all felt.

He was in love with the idea of them.
The stolen moments. The teasing. The way Wind Archer always looked like he was carved out of calm itself, and that staying close to him meant he could find peace.

But wanting that and keeping that were different things.

He was fire. Always flickering, always burning. He moved, consumed, flared up and faded out. That was his nature—restless, reckless, always chasing something just out of reach before he inevitably burned it away.

And Wind Archer? Wind Archer was the wind. Steady. Always present but never fully graspable. He could stir Fire Spirit into a blaze, or cool him down into nothing. He was the only one who could carry fire without being consumed by it. To fan an ember until it turns into a forest fire.

That scared Fire Spirit most of all.

Because if Wind Archer stayed long enough, he’d see that Fire Spirit wasn’t meant to last. That all the warmth, all the light—it always came with the danger of burning too bright.

And Wind Archer didn’t deserve to be scorched.

So he laughed.

“Besides,” he added, “I don’t think you’d be able to handle my full flames anyway.”

Wind Archer didn’t answer immediately. And in that silence, Fire Spirit swore he felt the other lean just slightly closer.

“On the contrary,” Wind Archer murmured, “I believe you’re underestimating me.”

And Fire Spirit pretended his own flames weren’t flickering.

Then, just like that, Wind Archer sat up straighter again, his shoulders squared, voice brisk.

“Hmm, yes, we should spar sometime,” he said.

The moment passed. Just like wind through branches—present one second, gone the next.

Fire Spirit blinked, then let out a breath of air hot enough to make the inside of the tent prickle.

Sometimes he wonders if Wind Archer does the things he does on purpose.

Regardless, he’s always happy to entertain the other, at an emotionally safe distance, of course.

Well… as emotionally distant as he can help it.

Flames, carried by the wind. Or maybe an ember on the ground, fanned into something it was never meant to be.

Whatever it was; wherever it’ll lead to—Fire Spirit can’t pull himself away.

He hopes he doesn’t burn the other.

"We should."

Chapter Text

Being escorted back was weird.

Not humiliating, nor uncomfortable. Just… weird.

He wasn’t used to traveling by carriage. It was slow. If he had just flown using his magic, he would’ve arrived at Creme Republic around an hour ago, easy.

But formalities had to be upheld. He didn’t care much about them, but most of the other guardians did. So he had to play along.

Though, what he didn’t understand is why they thought it was a good idea to put him and Wind Archer in the same carriage.

Not that Wind Archer had said anything since they’d left. Honestly, if Fire Spirit hadn’t been told that the other was sitting across from him, he wouldn’t have noticed. That’s how still the green guardian was.

Fire Spirit turned toward the general direction Wind Archer was seated.

Last night felt like a distant memory.

He’d left Wind Archer’s tent not long after that casual “we should spar sometime” comment—after the warmth had slipped out of the air and Wind Archer sat up straight again. Fire Spirit had stayed just a few more minutes, trying not to read too much into anything.

Although before leaving, Fire Spirit insisted the other to sneak out with him. Wind Archer sounded like he seriously considered the idea, but ultimately turned it down. Wind Archer reasoned that it would be difficult to go anywhere with blindfolds on, to which Fire Spirit smirked and told the other to just take it off.

Wind Archer didn’t sound very amused and Fire Spirit ended up wandering around camp alone, waiting for the first speckles of sunlight to hit the ground.

“You always sit that still?”

“You should know the answer to that,” Wind Archer responded.

Fire Spirit furrowed his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you not spent enough time with me these past centuries?”

“Okay, okay…” He held up a hand, even if Wind Archer couldn’t see it. “Didn’t mean to touch a nerve.”

Silence fell again.

“That spar,” Wind Archer started after a beat. “Did you mean it?”

Fire Spirit blinked, sitting up straighter.

“Uh… yeah,” he said, a little more cautious than usual. “Why? You backing out already?”

But Wind Archer didn’t take the bait. His voice remained even, but lighter somehow.

“No. I’m looking forward to it.”

And there it was.

It wasn’t obvious, but Fire Spirit had known him long enough to catch it. The tiniest shift in the other’s tone. A hint of something that sounded like… hope.

It wasn’t the first time Fire Spirit had seen Wind Archer like that, obviously, but it was rare. Too rare, actually—this almost called for a celebration!

Except they were both still cursed.

Not so rare, however, was the feeling that sparked in Fire Spirit’s chest in response to the other’s mood.

“…Yeah,” Fire Spirit said again, more certain this time. “We’ll spar. First thing once we can actually look at each other again.”

He leaned his head back against the carriage wall, lips twitching into the beginnings of a grin, the carriage rocking gently beneath him.

“Looking forward to getting your ass whooped, eh?” He smirked.

“Again, I believe you’re underestimating me.”

“Oh yeah? Who was it that won our last sparring match again?”

“And remind me who won prior to that?” The green guardian was quick to shoot back.

If you were to ask Fire Spirit what the current tally of their spars were, he’d be able to tell the exact number.

Not necessarily because he’s competitive—although though he is—but because every sparring match with Wind Archer was etched into his memory like a scar. A fond one, for that matter.

“Eighty-nine to ninety,” Fire Spirit said, smirk growing wider. “My lead.”

Wind Archer didn’t respond right away, but during times like these, Wind Archer tends to sit up straighter, taller.

He wonders if the other was even aware of that habit.

“I’ll even the score,” Wind Archer said eventually.

That quiet hope was still there, nestled carefully between the calm syllables of his voice.

Fire Spirit chuckled, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

And they both let the conversation settle at those words.

Once they arrived, they were immediately brought into Clotted Creme cookie’s quarters, for some reason.

“What an amusing situation you’ve both gotten into,” the noble cookie drawled, voice like sugar steeped in smugness.

“Thanks,” Fire Spirit said flatly. “Can we see those curse removers now?”

“I am already with you.”

That voice…

He believed the cookie’s name was Pure Vanilla…?

The sound of a staff touching the floor echoed faintly through the room.

“I sensed your affliction long before you stepped into these halls,” Pure Vanilla said. “Regretfully… it is not a curse I can remove.”

Fire Spirit’s jaw twitched. “What do you mean?”

Pure Vanilla stepped closer. “This magic… it’s complex. It’s more than a simple hex or malicious enchantment—It’s ancient. It clings to you not like a stain, but more like a second skin.”

“So what? You’re saying it’s permanent?” Fire Spirit said, heat crawling up his throat. “You called us all the way here just to tell us that?”

The temperature in the room rose slightly.

Pure Vanilla’s gaze remained soft and apologetic, but unwavering in spite of the situation. “I wished I had better news to offer…”

Fire Spirit took a sharp breath. “So that’s it? We’re just stuck like this?”

The heat around him rose like a sudden heatwave. The plush curtains nearest to him curled slightly inward, scorched at the tips before the flame even touched them. The floor beneath him creaked, warming unnaturally fast.

Wind Archer’s voice was even. “Fire Spirit-“

“You’re just okay with this? With walking around blindfolded forever? With not even being able to look at each other again?”

The sudden crack of heated stone echoed as part of the floor near Fire Spirit blackened under his feet.

“Fire Spirit.”

The temperature didn’t drop immediately, but Fire Spirit stilled.

Then, a soft gust swept through the room. It pressed gently against his flames, taming them.

Fire Spirit let out a shuddering exhale, shoulders slowly lowering, though his jaw remained tight.

“…Sorry,” he muttered, voice lower. “Didn’t mean to…” He said, looking away as the heat receded.

“Sit.”

Fire Spirit hesitated, but after a moments pause, slowly and begrudgingly, he sat down.

Wind Archer remained standing. “You can be angry,” he said, tone composed. “But don’t set the whole place ablaze.”

“Can’t make promises when someone tells me my fate’s been sealed.”

“Our fate,” Wind Archer corrected quietly. “You mean ourfate.”

“Yeah…? That’s what I said.”

Wind Archer let out a soft breath that sounded like a sigh, as he finally took his seat again.

“Is there a but to this whole meeting?” Wind Archer said shortly after. “Or was that it?”

“There is,” Pure Vanilla replied. “There’s a possibility that the curse can be lifted—“

“Why didn’t you start with that?!” Fire Spirit shot up from his seat, abruptly cutting off Pure Vanilla.

“Fire Spirit.” Came Wind Archer’s voice, prompting the firey guardian to sink back into his seat.

“Though I must warn you that this is only a possibility… I must also warn you that this would be no easy task.”

“Oh yeah? Bring it on,” Fire Spirit said, confident as ever.

“I know of a cookie who may hold the answer you are seeking.”

The room fell into silence, anticipation hanging in the air.

“A Beast cookie by the name of Shadow Milk Cookie… the progenitor of my Soul Jam.”

“Okay so… where are they at?”

A sigh escaped Wind Archer, his disappointment evident. “In Beast Yeast. They are a Beast, Fire Spirit.”

“A what now?”

“A Beast.” Wind Archer repeated, as if that clarified anything.

Fire Spirit squinted. “You mean, like… big, angry, and covered in fur?”

Pure Vanilla gently stepped in. “No—‘Beast’ as in one of the Five ancient heroes and rulers that ruled over Earthbread before falling into darkness. The ones even legends hesitate to name.”

“Okay, hold on, so there’s Five of them?”

Wind Archer pinched the bridge of his nose.

Pure Vanilla stifled a laugh.

“Fire Spirit… remember the war to seal them?” Wind Archer asked.

Fire Spirit blinked. For a second there, he thought he heard a glint of hope in the Wind Archer’s tone. But what was there to hope for in this situation?

He tried to picture it—flashes of fire, maybe, or crumbling stone—something. But nothing came. No battles. No sounds of clashing forces. Just a still, indistinct fog in his mind.

“Fire Spirit?” Wind Archer said.

“I think I missed that part of history, but whatever,” he said, quickly shaping an expression of nonchalance. “Five ancient rulers. Big deal. Got it.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Oh, I am,” he grinned. “I’m just processing that I might have to beg a cosmic force of nature to let me see my best friend again.”

Best friend.

Yeah, that sounds right. Wind Archer is his best friend. His best buddy ever since he came into being for who knows how long ago.

“Then let us hope that they will listen.” Wind Archer said at last, and Fire Spirit could hear the faintness of a smile in those words.

A moment later, the sound of someone clearing their throat pierced through the room before silence could settle. “Well then, that concludes the information we can provide for now. I trust you two will prepare accordingly.”

“Of course,” Wind Archer said politely.

Fire Spirit leaned back, cracking his neck with a loud pop. “Y’know… I almost forgot you were still in the room.”

Clotted Cream Cookie blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by that answer. “Pardon?”

“No offense, but you’ve got that… library decorum vibe. Like a bookshelf with opinions.”

The corner of Wind Archer’s mouth twitched.

Pure Vanilla Cookie chuckled under his breath.

Clotted Cream Cookie gave a tight smile, smoothing his cuffs. “Well, I shall take that as a compliment. Let’s talk more about this tomorrow.”

And with that they were escorted out and into their rooms.

———

The next day’s meeting was brief and quick to the point. It was less about discovery and more about logistics and the planning of the journey.

A guide had been suggested, of course. Just someone to help navigate without risk of accidental eye contact, as that would slow down the trip and would be highly unprofessional. The Council insisted on it.

But Fire Spirit had crossed his arms, already unimpressed. “Even if that were to happen, we’d still arrive faster than if we were to go with a random cookie.”

“Besides,” Fire Spirit had added, turning to Wind Archer, “You know the region, right?”

Wind Archer nodded calmly. “Familiar enough to get us through… with precautions.”

There was a moment of silence, like everyone was waiting for someone to object.

No one did.

And just like that, it was settled.

Fire Spirit would not be leashed. Wind Archer would not be doubted. The guide idea was scrapped.

They would travel alone.

Just the two of them.

Hell yeah.

With that conclusion, they both tipped to the others that they’d be leaving that same day. There was no need to wait for anyone anymore, after all; nor did they need to bring much—just themselves, really. If they had a guide, there would’ve been all sorts of unnecessary preparations like food, a tent, water, and other things neither Fire Spirit nor Wind Archer needed, that would ultimately only slow them down.

If Frost Queen was here, even she might’ve agreed that a guide would be more of a hindrance than a help.

So, with almost everything settled, here they were again—standing in front of the kingdom gates, about to venture into the great unknown.

Or at least, it felt that way to Fire Spirit.

“Have a safe travel,” Pure Vanilla Cookie said with a gentle wave, that ever-compassionate smile still on his face.

What a nice guy, that Cookie.

“We await your favorable return,” added Clotted Cream Cookie, standing to his left. Fire Spirit had mixed opinions on him. Probably good to your average Cookies, but not so much to the not-so-average ones like himself.

Stepping outside the gate and hearing it close behind them, all Fire Spirit and Wind Archer needed to do now was to avoid eye contact.

Simple enough.

———

It wasn’t as simple as Fire Spirit thought it would be.

Turns out it was hard to resist the instinct to look at your best friend when talking to them.

The solution?

He tied on a blindfold while Wind Archer held his hand so he wouldn’t bump into anything.

“This is incredibly stupid, but also incredibly smart. Mostly stupid.”

“Just walk,” Wind Archer said, dry as ever, guiding him forward by the hand, his grip steady.

“Y’know, you could be leading me off a cliff and I wouldn’t even know.”

“Is that how little you view our trust…”

“What was that?”

“Step over this root.”

Fire Spirit lifted his foot and stumbled anyway, crashing into Wind Archer with a soft oof. Their shoulders touched.

“Watch it,” Wind Archer said, though he didn’t pull away.

“Sorry, sorry, sparial awareness is kind of hard when your entire spatial awareness is limited to someone else’s hand and the sound of their disappointment.”

Wind Archer let out a breath through his nose—almost a laugh, but not quite. “You’re doing fine.”

“Don’t you mean fire? I’m doing FIRE!” He exclaimed, raising his arm as he did, causing Wind Archer to halt for a moment.

“You’re doing fire,” the other echoed dryly.

Fire Spirit smirked at that, but then fell quiet.

He suddenly became hyper aware of the fact that Wind Archer was still holding his hand and guiding him. Like he wasn’t even annoyed by Fire Spirit’s antics and it was just second nature to him.

And… it probably was.

Fire Spirit became even more aware of how warm Wind Archer’s hand was.

Or maybe that was just because he was holding literal fire.

Then again, Wind Archer never once flinched at Fire Spirit’s flame. Ever since they met all those decades ago, it was as if Wind Archer just knew how to deal with him.

His chest did this dumb little flutter thing, and he immediately decided to ignore it. “Hey,” he said quickly, “if I burn you by accident, I’m not apologizing.“

“If I let go and you walk into a ravine, I’m not apologizing either.” Wind Archer replied evenly.

“Mutually assured destruction. Love that for us.” He snickered.

Fire Spirit could’ve cracked another joke about how weirdly romantic this was getting—or maybe that was just him.

As with every other time, he allowed himself this moment.

How had he not noticed how much Wind Archer puts up with him?

Would thanking Wind Archer be weird?

Probably. That’d be out of character for him.

“Hey uhh.. thanks, by the way.”

Maybe it’s the curse making him act this way.

“Always.”

That… that response honestly caught him off guard.

“Not gonna ask ‘what for?’ or something?”

“Would you like me to ask that?”

Fire Spirit turned quiet and they continued their trek normally after that. One step at a time, hand in hand, everything feeling oddly peaceful.

“Thank you, too.”

“Uhh…?”

“Not gonna ask ‘what for?’ or something?” Wind Archer laughed a little—and Fire Spirit can swear on his own flames that there was softness in that.

“Would you like me to?” Fire Spirit plays along. It’s rare that Wind Archer starts something like this, after all.

“Yes.”

“Okay, then what for?”

“For many things, but especially for not burning down the forest.”

Fire Spirit almost wanted to ask what many things referred to… he didn’t.

“I would never!” He chose to comment on the latter statement, feigning indignation.

“And for that, I thank you.”

“Do I get a medal for that?”

“You get my tolerance.”

“Win-win,” Fire Spirit grinned. “Though if that’s the prize, I should’ve set the trees on fire. Might’ve gotten something better.”

Wind Archer hummed, unbothered. “You still have time.”

Fire Spirit chuckled. “Tempting, but I think I’ll stick with what I’ve got.”

And what he had right now was Wind Archer’s hand in his, guiding him through a world he couldn’t see.

Briefly, however, the other let go.

“Sorry, just had to pick something up,” Wind Archer said, connecting their hand together again and giving it a gentle squeeze.

A reassurance of some sorts, Fire Spirit told himself.

It wasn’t a romantic gesture—wasn’t supposed to be—but Fire Spirit can dream. Dream that maybe there was a hint of affection in that squeeze.

Because witches, he’s already too far down this rabbit hole anyway.

This dumb, unfixable rabbit hole called having a liking for his best friend.

———

“Are we there yet?”

Wind Archer didn’t answer right away, only adjusting his grip on Fire Spirit’s wrist, giving it a light squeeze as they walked.

Warmth blossomed in Fire Spirit’s chest at that.

“We’re close,” Wind Archer said eventually. “The trees are thinning out.”

“Is there gonna be this dramatic change in atmosphere once we step foot in the region?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, the air suddenly feels colder, the wind shifts, or something along those lines. That’d be cool, wouldn’t it?”

“I believe you daydream too much.”

“And I think you could use a little bit more of an imagination.”

Wind Archer didn’t reply to that and they kept walking, his hand steady on his. Once again, Wind Archer gave that little squeeze that had Fire Spirit heating up by a degree.

If the trees really were thinning out, Fire Spirit thought, then why did it suddenly feel like the whole forest was watching when he gave one back?

Chapter Text

The whole forest felt like it was watching him.

It had been a while since they crossed into Shadow Milk’s tree-filled domain. He’s aware of nature’s growth, especially when considering that the last time he was here was likely more than a decade ago, but the height of the trees were… abnormal.

They seemed to multiply the deeper he walked, tall and twisted, their branches clawing at the sky like they were reaching for something just out of view.

The canopy above was dense, moonlight barely slipping by. Even then, what light did manage to spill through didn’t help much in this fog. The light wasn’t their friend anymore.

The fog wasn’t thick enough to blind, but it was still enough to force them to be extra cautious with their surroundings, the foggy air clinging to their skin with a sticky dampness. The air wasn’t their friend anymore.

No birdsong. No wind. Not even the sound of Fire Spirit’s voice anymore.

Now that he thought about it, the firey guardian hasn’t spoken in a long while, which was odd. He had expected the other to at least make a snide remark on the eeriness of the area when they first stepped into the mist.

But all he got was silence.

Wind Archer adjusted his grip on the wrist he’d been guiding. The wrist was still warm. Still felt like him.

And yet.

He couldn’t help but think that the flames had somehow gone… colder.
Why would he adjust his heat?

It reminded of the first time they met—correction, re-met—when Fire Spirit’s was still cautious of how much heat Wind Archer could handle. Back then, he used to withdraw at the slightest flinch, barely brushing fingertips to Wind Archer’s shoulder.

Ah… what a bittersweet time that was… if only Fire Spirit had known then, or even now, the reason why he had this high of a tolerance for his flames…

Amidst the sudden wistfulness that flooded his brain, another thought came to his mind.
Vaguely, he remembered stories about Shadow Milk’s domain—that his dominion could part a cookie’s certainty from their soul. That the deeper you walked, the less you recognized what was in front or beside you. They said you walk in with someone and walk out with something else.

Folk tales, he told himself. Because he hadn’t let go of Fire Spirit once since they entered the region.

But he walked slower now.

The hand in his hadn’t changed. The weight felt the same. The skin was still warm, the grip steady.

And yet, for the first time since the whole journey, Wind Archer gave it a firmer squeeze—not to guide, but to check.

And Wind Archer realized something.

No, that can’t be the case—they weren’t in the region yet during that!

He only let go of the other once to pick up a feather that he thinks would make a fine quill. It was only for a second and he got ahold of Fire Spirit again.

Fire Spirit…?

“Do you remember what we’d do once this is all over?” Wind Archer asked.

“We would go back and help Millennial Tree, why?”

“…” He HAD to make sure. Fire Spirit would understand. He always did.

Without another word, Wind Archer swiftly let go and looked behind him—at Fire Spirit.

Orange flames. Blindfold. That cocky smirk.

But no urge to kiss.

He pulled out his bow and aimed it at Fire Spirit.

“Windy?”

Then suddenly, Wind Archer didn’t know if he was right anymore.

He had never been this unsure of his aim. Of his instincts.

“Hey,” the voice cracked around the edges. “This isn’t funny. Where are you?” he asked, flames flickering as though it was anxious.

He sounded so… small.

And Wind Archer’s hands trembled on the drawstring.

Because what if it really was his Fire Spirit…?

What if he were to lose him again?

This time, of his own doing. His own wrongness. His paranoia.

He didn’t put the bow down—not yet. But his grip loosened. Just enough so that the tension in the string quivered the same way his gut did

“Did I…” the voice spoke again. “Did I… do something wrong?”

That was when Wind Archer’s breath caught.

Because his Fire Spirit—the Fire Spirit that existed now—never asked things like that. Not with such fragility and meekness.

He was certain now.

“Who are you?” Wind Archer’s voice dropped like a blade. “What’d you do to Fire Spirit?”

The figure stilled. Just for a second.

Then the flames flicked higher around his shoulder. What was once an expression of worry and fear twisted into a slow, wide grin.

It was all wrong. The lips curved past what was even physically possible.

It was a mockery of Fire Spirit.

“Where’s Fire Spirit?!” Wind Archer demanded, the words sharper than his arrowhead.

And still, that grin didn’t falter.

The blindfolded figure tilted his head, slight and crooked. Like a puppet yanked by a string pulled too tight.

Then it muttered something under its breath.

Wind Archer didn’t wait.

He let an arrow fly. Not to strike, but to warn. It whistled past the mimic’s head, close enough that it parted the flames licking near his cheek.

The figure didn’t flinch.

It only smiled wider.

“I won’t ask again,” Wind Archer warned, voice low. “Where is he?”

This time, the whisper returned, clearer than before. Wind Archer could hear voices, plenty of them, layered over one another like a distorted chorus.

Wind Archer’s ears strained.

It wasn’t a phrase.

It was… a sound.

“You were the one to let go.”

Wind Archer jumped to the side, shooting an arrow at the space where he used to stand.

There was nothing there.

At the corner of his eyes, the figure lunged.

But Wind Archer was quicker.

In one fluid motion, his hand reached for another arrow, drew it, and released the string, a gust of wind slicing through the stillness.

And like the wind, the figure vanished into nothing when the arrow passed through it.

Wind Archer’s chest rose and fell, his fingers staying curled around the bowstring, ready for anything else that may happen.

A minute or two passed and only when his own heartbeat became the loudest thing he could hear did he finally lower the bow, though he didn’t loosen his grip. The wood felt like the only solid thing left in a world that had just tried to trick him with a voice from someone he trusted.

But all that was left now was silence.

Fire Spirit.

His grip on the bow tightened. If Fire Spirit was hurt—or worse.

Wind Archer shook his head and started moving.

Moving where? Where is he in this expanse of a forest?

Before he knew it, he was moving as the wind itself—sweeping through the forest as though he was trying to outpace the gnawing thoughts that would have his heart aching and paralyzed.

He couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when the alternative was letting panic take root and choke him still. He had already wasted time doubting his instincts and hesitating to shoot that thing.

Nothing detrimental has happened yet.

And he will do everything in his power to make sure it stays that way.

–––

Hours slipped past in a blur of trees and shadow.

Nothing.

No sign of Fire Spirit. No sign of life, even, besides the trees. The forest stretched on and on, further than the horizon could possibly hold.

Wind Archer’s breath grew heavier, each inhale sharp in his chest, but he persevered. Desperation had long since taken root, urging him forward even as his sense of direction unraveled.

Every tree he passed felt like the same one, mocking him with its sameness. Every empty glade only deepened the hollow pit in his stomach.

If Fire Spirit was out here, he was beyond the reach of a normal search.

He could fly up, get a birdseye view of everything—except he wouldn’t. The canopy of trees would only block the ground from his sight.

Then, at the corner of his eye, he sees something different.

Light.

Not moonlight, but light that seemed to come from another source entirely. It flickered.

Flames.

His heart lurched, and before a breath could fully leave his lungs, he was there in his physical form, no longer as the wind.

It was a candle.

Its tiny flame swayed in the still air, casting long, strange shadows across the bark.

The bushes behind him rustled. Instinct surged, and in one motion, Wind Archer drew his bow and stretched the string taut.

From the shadows, something small emerged through the bushes.

A cookie.

It landed in the dirt between them, absurdly out of place in the vast, lifeless forest.

Then she stepped into view.

Hair the color of the sky, a cloak as blue as the deep sea. Her presence was almost serene—too serene. The kind of beauty that seemed out of place in this forest.

She didn’t speak. The candlelight caught in her eyes, and for a fleeting moment, Wind Archer couldn’t tell if she was friend, foe… or something else.

“Who are you?”

“I’ve no name… I am but a mere lady in azure wandering this forest.”

“Why are you here?”

“Is that truly the question you wish answered?”

Wind Archer paused, caught off guard by that response. Then, firmer this time—

“Where is he?”

Her lips curved. “The one of flame burns still, though his fire is dim.”

Wind Archer took a step forward, his bow hung low now. “Tell me where.”

She tilted her head, the candle between them casting long, wavering shadows on her face. “If I point, you will not see him. If I speak, you will not hear him. But if you follow…” Her eyes darted to the flame. “…then perhaps the forest will let you through.”

Wind Archer’s grip on his bow tightened. “You expect me to trust you?”

“Not trust,” she said softly, turning away. “Only follow… before the flame goes out.”

She began walking, her blue cloak trailing over the damp leaves, candle steady in her grasp.

Against his better judgment, Wind Archer moved after her.

His instincts were screaming at him that this was a trap. He knew that, of course, but… he wouldn’t find Fire Spirit by aimlessly searching this forest. He had already tried.

“Where are you leading me?” Wind Archer’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the Lady in Azure didn’t answer.

Her footsteps were soundless, gliding over the forest floor as if she was floating. The light from her candle pulsed, flickering.

And WInd Archer, now that he had slowed down, couldn’t help the thoughts that finally caught up to him.

He might lose Fire Spirit again.

That alone had his footsteps slowing further. Like a sudden weight placed on his shoulders, making it harder to move.

Fortunately, the Lady in Azure paused beside a tree, and set the candle at its base.

“Here,” she said softly, voice like a ripple across still water. “The flame waits.”

Wind Archer’s eyes narrowed as he knelt beside the light, fingers brushing the rough bark as he leaned closer, peering into the hollow opening of the tree’s bark. At the bottom, a faint, small flame flickered and Wind Archer’s breath hitched.

Before he could react, a gentle push pressed against his back. He stumbled forward, arms flailing, but there was no solid ground beneath him.

Instead, the world around him warped and twisted.

The rough bark melted away like smoke, the dense forest faded into swirling shadows, and the ground dissolved into a shifting mosaic of stars and stairs..

He was falling but it felt like he was floating instead.

He looked behind him to see the Lady in Azure falling with him, her cloak flapping unpredictably against the fall.

He looked around to see colors swirling into one another. Black and white and yellow and blue. Eyes. Eyes were staring, blinking, gazing at him.

When he looked behind again, the Lady in Azure was no longer there.

Then, suddenly, the nothingness beneath Wind Archer was replaced by cold, polished marble floor. Around him, the swirling colors settled into shadowed pillars and archways that stretched high up until it faded into the darkness above.

“Welcome, folks!”

Chapter Text

“Welcome, folks!” A voice echoed. "Now that our second participant has finally joined us, let the show begin!"

Second participant?

“As you have all been watching, both our participants have been through a lot to get here.” A snicker echoed, followed by the murmur of distant, unseen crowd laughter.

“How kind of them to have joined in spite of their trials and tribulations!”

“Show yourself,” Wind Archer commanded, lifting his bow and readying an arrow. “I’m not playing your games.”

A soft chuckle echoed.

“Oh, you misunderstand. The game isn’t about me revealing myself. It’s about you finding your beloved Fire Spirit.” The voice—presumably Shadow Milk—put a heavy emphasis on beloved.

From the darkness, a faint glow appeared, barely visible.

Wind Archer’s eyes narrowed. Could it be Fire Spirit? Or another illusion?

“To find what is lost, one must first lose themselves!”

The faint glow multiplied, swelling until Wind Archer was surrounded on all sides.

“The game is simple… shoot your shot until there is one left!”

And then, as if water had suddenly cleared his vision, each glowing figure resolved into a face—Fire Spirit.

“Windy!”
“Where were you?”
“I was so worried.”
“I thought you left me alone.”
“I was looking for you!”
“How do we get out of here?”

The voices overlapped, echoing around him as the Fire Spirits surrounded him.

“Windy!”
“I missed you!”
“Let’s get out of here!”
“I can’t use my flames!”

Wind Archer stood still, overwhelmed by all that was happening, hands grabbing and tugging at him from every angle as the voices continued to overlap against each other.

“Booriingg!!!” Shadow Milk’s voice echoed again. “Let’s up the ante, shall we?”

From the endless void above him where the ceiling should be, a massive clock-face burned into existence, its hands spinning wildly before screeching to a halt.

10:00

The second hand ticked forward.

9:59

The voices didn’t stop. If anything, they grew louder, overlapping into a deafening cacophony of Fire Spirits calling out to him, tugging at his sleeves, clutching his arms.

“Windy, help me!”
“Windy, please!”
“Don’t leave me!”
“Save me!”

The more he tried to focus, the more their faces blurred together into a mosaic of orange, red, and yellow.

Shadow Milk’s laughter cut through the rising panic in his head. “Find the real one before time runs out, archer. Or watch them all burn away to nothing.”

And as if on cue, the figures began to flicker at their edges, like candles in the wind threatening to go out.

The timer ticked down.

9:10

Wind Archer raised his bow, his pulse pounding in his ears even as he tried to steady them.

But each time he aimed, the Fire Spirit in his sights cried out.

“It’s me!”
“Don’t shoot, Windy!”
“I’m the real one!”

Every single voice trembled with terror. Every single one of the Fire Spirit’s were reaching for him.

But only one had eyes that showed not desperation… but warmth. A softness that Wind Archer had seen countless times before, and one that he never thought he’d get to see again.

Is that his Fire Spirit?

Were those the same eyes he had received a millenia ago?

Whether they were or not, it still made him feel the same way it did back then. The feeling where, even if just for a brief moment, everything else dissipated and it was only the two of them that existed.

He had doubted his instincts once. He won't make that mistake again.

Before his mind could catch up, that instinct led his body closer and closer. Against his will, each step caused his eyes to sting. The closer he moved, the more impossible it was to ignore how those eyes looked at him like he was the universe itself. Just as they once had in the distant past.

Wind Archer’s throat tightened.

This is his Fire Spirit.

“Don’t lose me again,” Wind Archer whispered, a soft smile on his face as he laced their fingers together.

In the gentleness of their hands, was a weight that crushed Wind Archer as it did free him—memories from a distant past, a fire that continued to burn in him long after it should have died, and a soft yearning he couldn’t help despite making a promise to himself.

As if the other Fire Spirits knew that they had been defeated, they stayed silent as Wind Archer held his Fire Spirit.

Unable to shoot with his other hand occupied, he guided Fire Spirit closer and moved his arms around his neck instead. The warmth pressed against his back spread through Wind Archer like a flame, and when Fire Spirit seemed to melt into him, Wind Archer couldn’t help but melt back.

2:26

Straightening his posture, he drew his bow and he steadied his breath.

2:12

The tension in the string thrummed.

2:05

He aimed—

2:00

—and let the wind guide his arrow through the illusions.

1:27

Where hoards of illusions once stood flickering, now replaced by the emptiness of an endless room.

The silence was eery, but that didn’t worry him anymore. “Are you alright?” Wind Archer asked, turning to face Fire Spirit, who still clung around his neck.

“Y-yeah! How’d you know it was me?”

Wind Archer simply responded with a smile, hoping that it looked similar to the way Fire Spirit looked at him.

“Aww, how touching!”

At those words, Wind Archer sharply turned around and drew his bow, causing Fire Spirit to stumble and let go—

“Whoops! You let go again!”

The sound came from behind him and when he looked, he was alone again.

“Some guardian you are. Can’t even hold onto the one who depends on you.”

“I won your game!” Wind Archer’s voice cracked, anger and sorrow mixing together.

“You did!”

Wind Archer’s bowstring quivered, the arrow aimed at nothing, at shadows that swam and dissolved as soon as he tried to pin them down.

“What does victory matter,” Shadow Milk whispered, closer now but nowhere at the same time, “when the one who trusted you most keeps slipping through your fingers?”

“Shut up,” he rasped.

“You’ve fought in every war and won but the only cookies that suffer are those other than you.”

“That’s not true!”

“Ohhh righttt, there was that time when—”

The voice got cut and a figure laying down appeared in the distance. Cautiously, Wind Archer moved closer, as he did, everything became more apparent and he rushed to it.

“Fire!”

He dropped to his knees beside Fire Spirit, heart hammering. And then he saw it. The face. Half Fire Spirit—the one he knows—and the other half was ash and darkness.

Swiftly, Wind Archer got off his knees.

“What’s the matter? Can’t recognize your Fire Spirit?”

“This isn’t him!”

“A little darkness and suddenly you can’t bear to even look at him anymore… you acted the same way before, didn’t you?” Shadow Milk’s tone was mocking him, savoring each word like salt in a wound.

“That’s not why!” Wind Archer shouted, fists clenching tightly around the body of his bow, frustration and guilt colliding in his chest.

The figure on the ground coughed violently, ragged and distressed, like it was on its last ounce of life energy.

“Not gonna help him?” The voice taunted, dripping with malice as it seemed to enjoy the torment Wind Archer was going through.

The coughing grew louder, more frantic and breathless.

“This isn’t him!”

“You’re just gonna let your fellow guardian die again?”

“Shut up!” He loosed an arrow into the dark. Another. Another. Then another. The sound of his arrows whistling through the air as his bowstring thrummed in desperation.

And then—

“Ouch!”

That voice.

Wind Archer stopped shooting and bolted to where the voice came from in this fog of darkness.

“Just kidding!” Shadow Milk laughed.

“What do you want from me?!”

“A bargain.” The voice was devoid of the usual japery—it was devoid of anything.

Wind Archer tightened his jaw. “Speak.”

“My freedom,” Shadow Milk continued. “In exchange for your beloved Fire Spirit.”

Wind Archer froze, mind racing. His stomach turned, but he forced himself to think.

“You think I’d hand him over?” Wind Archer said through gritted teeth.

“You don’t have to think,” Shadow Milk replied, the laughter coming back. “You’ll choose.”

Wind Archer’s eyes glanced around the darkness surrounding him. He could feel Fire Spirit’s presence, his very essence, calling out to him.

His role as a guardian against darkness… in exchange for Fire Spirit…

No. He didn’t have to choose.

“I’ll be breaking free soon regardless!” Shadow Milk spoke, “So why not do us both a favor and free me now.”

“You’re lying.”

“Hah! While I do love a good lie, how do you think I got a hold of your beloved in the first place? I know you know when you let go the first time.”

Back in the forest—the forest that wasn’t in Beast Yeast.

The darkness… it’s spreading.

“I won’t–”

“You will.” Shadow milk cut him off. “Otherwise… your little friend here,” on cue, a flame in the distance appeared and Wind Archer wasted no time in going towards it.

But as he was about to reach it, the flame disappeared, vanished, like it had been extinguished.

“You get the point.”

“You won’t touch him,” Wind Archer spat, hands trembling. “I won’t let you.”

“Oh, but I already have,” Shadow Milk’s voice coiled around him like smoke. “And you’ve been dancing right into my little game. One choice, guardian. One simple choice.”

Wind Archer’s mind raced, clawing for options. He could feel the familiar heat of Fire Spirit’s essence somewhere in this distorted domain… but it was distant and elusive, like trying to grasp smoke.

1:26

The clock started ticking again.

“Do decide quickly, my time is valuable to me.”

Wind Archer clenched his bow. His duty as a guardian was clear: do not let darkness spread. It was what he’d trained for, what he’d sworn to uphold. The darkness could never be allowed to roam freely again.

But when he closed his eyes to think clearer, he thought of Fire Spirit’s laughter and smug grin. He thought of Fire Spirit’s reckless antics and cautious gentleness. As clear as day, he remembered when Fire Spirit had gathered flowers for Wind Archer as a gift. Wind Archer pretended to be confused by the gesture, because he wouldn’t dare force himself onto the other just because…

He thought further back, back to a time when there weren’t many cookies roaming the world. He could remember a time when Fire Spirit brought him to a forest grove and got down on one knee. He still had the magma ring somewhere in his hut… hidden but treasured.

He had sworn his life to the guardianship of this world. But hadn’t he also sworn and made a vow—quietly, silently, secretly, hidden from the others—to Fire Spirit too?

Then his mind wandered into parts that still ached. The battlefield had been silent on that day, the sky clear of shadow and darkness, as victory was theirs. And yet, the world had never felt darker.

He still recalled the hollow weight of the news, the stunned silence among the guardians when a miracle was spoken of. Fire Spirit returned against all odds. Relief had come, but so had ache. It wasn’t the one he knew, but it was still him in everything he did: The cockiness, the sarcastic remarks, the care hidden behind layers of bravado, and a softness that only seemingly showed itself to Wind Archer. It was so clearly his Fire Spirit, yet a stranger all at once.

He admired from a safe distance ever since.

0:12

Without him, what would victory even mean?

0:08

He had lived that answer once before. And he’s not sure if he could live through that again…

0:07

If there is even an again.

0:03

His heart twisted. Not at the idea of darkness spreading like rot in Earthbread, but at the thought of losing Fire Spirit for good.

0:02

At least this time, he can honor his vow.

0:01

“Deal.”

Chapter Text

“Deal,” Wind Archer said finally, voice low.

“You’d taint your precious skies for a single soul?” Shadow Milk sounded like he was holding in his laughter.

Wind Archer’s heart pounded. His bow creaked in his tightening grip.

“Do. We. Have. A. Deal?”

“Yes, yes. You can have him after you set me free.”

“I want him back now.”

“So all you need to do is destroy the tree.”

“Give him ba–”

He didn’t even get to finish before he was suddenly back in the forest. Looming in front of him was the tree with the scared bark—the one he had fallen into. And on the ground where roots protruded was the candle lamp, its flame long gone and the wax melted halfway down.

Destroy the tree

Was he really going to do this…?

The question he asked himself was only formality, a feeble attempt of sparing himself some dignity, as his arms were already pulling back the string of his bow.

For Fire Spirit.

Woosh.

The arrow struck. The tree stood still for a moment, before creaking as though in agony. Slowly, it toppled backward, leaves crackling as it hit the ground with a heavy thump, a cloud of dust and debris puffing into the air.

Then—

It couldn’t have been more dramatic—the bark split open in half, and from the standing, still-rooted half of the bark came a rush of darkness, gushing out like a fountain bursting after years of pressure in its pipes.

Shadow Milk’s laughter echoed as the darkness blotted out the sunlight—whatever sunlight existed in the region to begin with.

He had done it.

“Fire Spirit!”

His voice cracked from the force of it, an arrow still trembling against his bow. And from the swirl of shadow, a familiar figure stumbled forward, its flame flickering weakly, head lowered like it was merely dangling.

“Wind...” Fire Spirit’s voice was hoarse, trembling.

Wind Archer rushed to him, nearly dropping his bow, catching Fire Spirit just as he collapsed. The guardian was hot to the touch, burning like an ember pulled fresh from Earthbread’s core, but Wind Archer held him anyway, pulling him close as though the darkness couldn’t touch them if he just… held tighter.

“You’re here, you’re okay,” Wind Archer breathed, more to himself than to Fire Spirut.

But upon a closer look, his stomach dropped.

Fire Spirit’s flame wasn’t the same.

A thin thread of black mixed its way through the red fire, it wasn’t bold, but it wasn’t subtle either. It was just… there.

It wasn’t supposed to be.

Fire Spirit coughed, ash coming out. “You shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have done it.” His hand weakly gripped Wind Archer’s wrist, as if to hold him there, as if to scold him at once. The other’s eyes burned when he looked at Wind Archer, not only with fire, but with a morsel of darkness lurking behind them. In spite of that, still, all he chose to see was the warmth in those eyes.

“For you, I would have done it again” Wind Archer said, though his voice wavered when he finally admitted it aloud.

Behind them, Shadow Milk’s laughter faded, leaving only the rushing hiss of darkness spilling across the land. A reminder of what he had unleashed

And in his arms, Fire Spirit’s flame flickered again. Only this time it was jagged, volatile.

“I…” Fire Spirit gave a half-smile. “I’m sorry…” The flickering guardian closed his eyes, exhausted as though he just fought ten wars.

He thinks Windy was saying something, yelling something, but he couldn’t hear them properly.

The last thing Fire Spirit felt were arms gripping tighter onto him when his legs gave out and the world turned dark.

———

Fire Spirit stirred. At first, he thought it was the ground shaking beneath him, until he realized he was moving too.

When he fluttered his eyes open, the first thing he saw was green, soft against his face, swaying gently in the breeze.

Wind Archer’s hair.

…Oh.

He was being carried. Piggybacked.

Fire Spirit groaned, weakly lifting his head, his cheek brushing the other’s shoulder. His voice cracked.

“Why…” He swallowed against the dryness in his throat. “Why are you carrying me?”

Wind Archer didn’t look back. His grip only tightened around FS’s legs.

“Because you passed out.”

Fire Spirit shut his eyes again, trying not to think of everything that just happened. His fingers twitched against Wind Archer’s shoulder.

“We fucked up, didn’t we.”

“...”

At the green guardian’s silence, Fire Spirit leaned closer, resting his cheeks on the other’s hair and watching the slow passing of trees beside them. You wouldn’t think that some evil was just unleashed with how peaceful the trees around them swayed—birds and other land critters being in their own reposeful world.

Fire Spirit wanted to laugh, but the best he could manage was a faint, crooked smile against Wind Archer’s.

“I’m sorry.”

Wind Archer didn’t reply at first, the sound of nature carrying them forward, then, finally—

“At least I can look at you again.”

Fire Spirit’s crooked smile faltered at that. He wanted to ask what the other meant, but he was so tired—too tired. So instead, he closed his eyes again and let himself sink into the rhythm of the archer’s steps.

“Where are we going?”

“We have to report what happened…”

“...They’ll kill you.”

“Only figuratively… I hope.”

“We can… we can still escape from this.”

Wind Archer abruptly stopped on his racks.

“Just kidding, I’m kidding!” Fire Spirit was quick to say, “I know you’d never abandon your duty or whatever…”

“Good. Because we’re already here.”

“What?”

As Wind Archer said, a few more steps forward and suddenly they were out of the forest and into the clear, open, bustling city of Creme republic, the entrance gates standing tall before them.

“H-Hey put me down!”

“No.”

“Wha– no!” Fire Spirit squirmed in Wind Archer’s arms, heat rising to his face despite how drained he was. “Seriously, put me down, I can walk.”

“You can barely keep your eyes open.” Wind Archer didn’t even slow his pace, ignoring the stares beginning to trail them from the guards at the gate and the common folk beyond.

“That’s not the point!” Fire Spirit hissed, trying to tug free. “People are staring!”

The guards at the gate saluted sharply as they approached, and Wind Archer nodded back with all the dignity of someone not carrying another guardian like an unruly child. Fire Spirit groaned, covering his face with one hand.

“Great. Just parade me around, why don’t you? Ruin what little reputation I have left.”

“You don’t have a reputation,” Wind Archer said flatly.

“I did.” Fire Spirit peeked through his fingers at the massive castle looming ahead, the city beyond alive with movement and noise. Seems like there’s been a celebration while they were gone.

Wind Archer finally sighed and let Fire Spirit slide down to his feet.

“There.”

“Damage’s already done, thanks,” Fire Spirit muttered, brushing himself off as if that would erase the humiliation.

But the stares didn’t stop. Even on solid ground, heads turned, murmurs rippled from the guards to the merchants near the gate, to the travelers pausing mid-step, to the citizens shopping on the fruit stalls.

“They’re staring,” he whispered subtly through clenched teeth.

“They’re relieved,” Wind Archer corrected calmly, already moving forward. “We made it back.”

Every hushed voice in the crowd sounded the same in his ears: That’s him? That’s the Fire Spirit? He looks…

“Easy for you to say, they’re talking about me!” He whisper-yelled.

“I–”

“Ah, our heroes have arrived!” The voice of Clotted Creme boomed through the town hall of the common folks.

The crowd parted almost instantly as Clotted Creme strode forth from the steps of the town hall, arms outstretched as though he’d personally summoned the moment, his gilded cape waving dramatically despite there being no wind.

“Oh, perfect,” Fire Spirit muttered under his breath. “As if this wasn’t humiliating enough.”

Clotted Creme’s voice only grew louder, carrying across the square. “Citizens of Creme Republic, welcome back our champions who stood against the darkness itself!”

The cheers that followed weren’t uniform. Some rang with awe, some with skepticism, and a few with the same hushed tones Fire Spirit had heard not too long ago—too much whispering that didn’t match the applause.

Once Clotted Creme got closer, Fire Spirit could swear there was a shift in the other’s expression when his eyes caught sight of Fire Spirit.

Fire Spirit straightened his spine unconsciously.

“Let us return to the castle.”

—---

“So… the curse has been lifted?”

“Yeah.”

“Good…” Clotted Creme seemed to contemplate on something as they kept walking towards, presumably, where the great hall was situated in this castle.

Fire Spirit, for all his recklessness, wasn’t dense. He could feel it when tension settled like a veil in the air.

The Cream-haired cookie glanced at Fire Spirit. He thinks it was supposed to be a subtle look, but Fire Spirit decided to comment on it anyway. “What?”

“Nothing,” The other replied smoothly, his eyes flicking briefly, almost imperceptibly, toward Fire Spirit’s chest before he looked away.

Fire Spirit frowned. He wasn’t a genius, but he wasn’t stupid either. Something was off.

Maybe it was all in his head… but then that would mean…

“I think he’s got the hots for me.” Fire Spirit whispered to Wind Archer, who was walking beside him, close as ever.

“What?”

“He’s been stealing glances at me ever since we got back! Even during the walk back here…”

“I… I see,” The green guardian was confounded, unsure on how to respond. So instead, he shook his head faintly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips amusingly. “Yeah… let’s go with that.”

“That’s it? Not gonna fight him for me?”

“What?”

“He’s hitting on me! Doesn’t that make you like… you know?” Fire Spirit’s voice cracked at the end, and he quickly looked away, pretending to study the castle wall.

“What are you saying?”

“Like, jealous? I don’t know!”

“...Why would I?”

“Forget it!” Fire Spirit blurted, maybe too fast.

Jeez. He figured that there was something after everything that happened.

Did his own delusion really twist Wind Archer’s act of heroism into something else entirely? Something more than camaraderie? But his words said otherwise! Or maybe that was also an error on his brain’s end?

He glanced at Wind Archer, who was also lost in thought, that signature deep-in-pondering look on his face.

Before he could dwell further in his own thoughts, the doors to the grand hall swung open, and Clotted Creme stepped inside.

Oh.

They were here.

All the guardians, and a handful of other important cookies whose titles he couldn’t quite remember, had gathered in the grand hall. Two long tables stretched symmetrically across the room, facing each other like a reflection in the mirror. The polished marble floor gleamed under chandeliers of sugar-glass, their soft golden glow bouncing across walls lined with banners of every kingdom.

At the far end of the chamber rose a dais, carved marble inlaid with gold filigree, where some important cookies sat. Between the tables, a long crimson carpet was laid straight through the hall, leading towards the throne.

Fire Spirit’s eyes darted across the gathered cookies. Their shining armors, embroidered robes, jeweled brooches, gold adorned outfits all screamed important, even if he couldn’t put names to most of the cookies present.

All Fire Spirit knew was that everyone’s attention was on them when they entered. Fire Spirit never considered himself to be a self-conscious individual, but damn did he wish that he got to look at a mirror first before he entered the grand room.

Briefly, he glanced at Wind Archer who seemed as composed as ever, except the mildly fidgeting hands behind his back said otherwise.

Fire Spirit wanted to do nothing more than to hold those hands to calm the other down, and himself. He was pretty nervous because why does it feel like eyes were on him specifically?

“Go on, take your seat.” Clotted Creme said, he seemed to be faring the best out of them right now, granted he’s probably done this a hundred times already.

Wind Archer nodded and walked toward the table on the right, where there were two seats available in between Millenial Tree cookie and Moonlight cookie. Yeah, that was probably the designated table for the guardians.

Fire Spirit trailed after Wind Archer, his eyes flickering up at the banners for each nation. He couldn’t name the nations they were for at the top of his head, but it was still nice to admire the details woven with each banner.

He slid into the seat beside Wind Archer, grateful that the chair didn’t creak when he did. Across the hall, a dozen pairs of eyes still felt glued to him, and he fought the urge to wave just to break the tension.

Moonlight Cookie gave him a glance, serene as ever, though the faintest twitch at the corner of her lips betrayed amusement.

“Look, the curse is lifted, alright? We won't kiss each other anymore!” He whispered to the starlit guardian. He could at least talk loosely with his fellow guardians without feeling tense—most of them, anyway.

“I see that the cure came with a side effect,” she gave a hushed giggle. After that she was back to talking with Sea Fairy who sat on her left.

Okay, weird, so, back to Wind Archer.

He looked to his right.

Wind Archer seemed to be discussing something with Millenial Tree cookie.

Nevermind then.

He’ll just… keep looking at the banners, he supposes.

That didn’t last long because he could feel an icy glare being sent in his direction. He looked to his right again, beside Millenial Tree, where Frost Queen sat.

He gave the ice guardian a smug smile and nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Her frosted lashes lowered, and she took a slow sip from her goblet without breaking eye contact. The silence stretched so long that Fire Spirit almost thought he’d won—until she spoke.

“Your arrogance steams louder than your new flames,” she said coolly, setting her cup down.

“Thanks,” he grinned, pretending it was a compliment.

A faint shimmer of frost bloomed across the edge of his chair. He sat a little straighter.

“Okay, noted.”

Then, the clear ring of silver on glass cut through the chattering, drawing all eyes to the far end of the table. Clotted Creme Cookie rose gracefully, one hand on his goblet, the other tucked neatly behind his back.

“My friends,” he began, voice smooth and practiced, “What we accomplished these past few months will be remembered for centuries. Against the tide of darkness, we stood unshaken. The guardians, the ancients, the kingdoms, all of us together and victorious.”

Polite applause rose like a wave, and as quickly as the speech came, it was over and the hall was now filled with cheering. Platters of roasted fruits were carried in, mugs
clinked, laughter spilled into the vaulted ceiling. Fire Spirit found himself half-smiling despite everything.

The warmth of it all made it harder to swallow. He knew what was coming.

His gaze slid to Wind Archer beside him. The archer’s posture was immaculate, but the faintest tremor clung to his hand where it rested on the tablecloth. No one else would notice—except Fire Spirit, who had witnessed seeing the arrow loose, the seal shatter, and the darkness gushing free.

Fire Spirit’s gut twisted. He should be the one to speak. He’d already ruined his reputation plenty of times—one more stain wouldn’t matter. Besides, it was also his fault for falling for the illusion, for putting Wind Archer in that position of choice just because his flames just… wasn’t enough.

He drew in a breath, steadying himself, mouth opening—

Wind Archer stood. The scrape of his chair was loud enough to hush even the laughter. Every head turned, the hall slowly quieting.

Fire Spirit froze, watching as the archer lifted his chin.

“I have… news.”

The hall stilled.

Chapter Text

The halls were loud.

Yeah… Wind Archer expected it to go along something like this.

Who wouldn’t, when the very purpose of this celebration had turned out to be nothing more than a false sense of hope. They won the war, only for another to rise in its place.

The noble attendees of the celebration shouted over one another—denials, accusations, frantic questions that tangled together until they were nothing but a storm of noise. Even some of the generals, those who should’ve known better, bristled and argued.

Wind Archer didn’t flinch. He simply stood, hands straight at his sides, head hanging low to show that he was remorseful of what happened—which he was. He was remorseful of the darkness he had unleashed, but not the reason behind why he had done it.

And when he explained it… sure, he expected anger and disappointment, but he had also expected at least a shred of understanding among those emotions.

Instead, from across the table came only shouts of betrayal.

It was easier to be their villain now than to let them believe in an ending that wasn’t there. Besides, the sooner this gets out of the way, the sooner they can prepare and mitigate for the inevitable darkness that would, once again, plague Crispia.

At least his fellow guardians kept their silence. Would you look at that, he might actually have a good relationship with Frost Queen after all.

“Enough!”

Startled, Wind Archer looked beside him to see Fire Spirit, now standing with him. His flames, usually warm and gold, flared in shades of crimson and black instead, painting the walls in a shadowy flame, causing the nobles nearest him to stagger back in fear, their outrage choking in their throats.

“You scream betrayal while cowering behind your banquet tables,” Flame Spirit snarled. “Do you even hear yourselves? You call him traitor, but it was his choice to join in this war that kept you all breathing long enough to celebrate in the first place.”

The chamber hushed, though he could tell it wasn’t peace—just the brittle quiet that comes before fire consumes a forest.

Fire Spirit’s darkened flames cracked and writhed, “You demand heroes who fight your wars, bleed for your victories, and then curse them at the smallest mistake. Hypocrites. Every one of you.”

“Small mistake? You’re saying that unleashing darkness that’s been sealed for centuries for a good reason is a small mistake?” One noble hissed, his robes rustling as he leaned forward, eyes blazing.

“Yeah! Are you out of your mind?!” Another barked, and the simmering pot, was now, undoubtedly boiling, as the subdued murmurs returned to its previous outraged clamorings. Only this time, food was being thrown across the hall and into them, plunging the room into childish chaos.

Wind Archer, maybe if he wasn’t the reason for the commotion, would have scowled at their display of childish tantrums. But that wasn’t the case, so all he could do was hang his head low and accept the raging storm around him.

Plates rattled, goblets teetered, and someone hurled a loaf of bread that breezed past Wind Archer and landed with a wet thud against the far wall.

Fire Spirit looked like he was gonna snap at them again, but Wind Archer held his hand and shook his head, a quiet way of saying ‘it’s not worth it, let them be.’

“Do you guardians even care?! We might not be indestructible and divine like you, but we still have lives too!”

Wind Archer couldn’t help the scowl that came out when he heard that. They were far from indestructible.

“Indestructible? Divine? You think we are untouchable?” His voice cut through the clamor. What a hypocrite he was to speak after he gestured Fire Spirit not to. “I’ve lost cookies– cookies I swore to protect…” He glanced over to Fire Spirit, whose dark flames flickered and dimmed slightly.

“I’ve watched helplessly as darkness took what I couldn’t save,” Wind Archer continued. He realized it then, that even he had been blinded by a false sense of hope. Because Fire Spirit… witches, he bets the other wasn’t even aware of the darkness mingling with his red flames.

“Guardians aren’t invincible. We bleed, we hurt, and to address that one cookie,” he looked toward the noble at the far end of the opposing table, “We do care. We have lives too— others we care about.” He looked back at Fire Spirit, whose hands remained intertwined with his, a fleeting, grounding touch. Fire Spirit’s flames steadied, returning to their normal, warm glow.

“Truly, I am sorry for succumbing and allowing darkness to roam. But I assure you all, we will be victorious again, just as we did last time, just as we did in all the battles we’ve fought.”

A hush fell over the hall. The weight of his words, the calm certainty, seemed to settle into the room. Fire Spirit squeezed his hand lightly, a quiet signal of support, and for a moment, the chaos that had dominated the celebration seemed a distant memory.

Pure Vanilla Cookie stood, hands pressed together, his presence a calm assurance. “We are fortunate to have guardians who carry not only strength but responsibility. Fellow cookies, let us not fight between ourselves when we are all fighting for the same goal of peace and light.”

“Truly, rather than indulging in blame, we should divert our focus on rebuilding and preparing for the path ahead.” Millennial Tree Cookie added, rising from his seat. At that, a hush lingered over the hall as the words of Pure Vanilla and Millennial Tree sank in. Even the nobles who had been quick to anger seemed to finally settle.

Clotted Creme cleared his throat, “Very well. The matter at hand is pressing, yes, but we must also respect reason. I propose a vote, shall we continue the meeting now, or adjourn until tomorrow when tempers have cooled and clarity prevails?”

Murmurs rippled through the hall as attendees exchanged glances.

“Continue,” a voice called from the left table.

“Postpone,” another countered, and soon the room divided itself, but no food was being thrown anymore this time.

Finally being able to sit and take a breather, Wind Archer gave Pure Vanilla from across the table a grateful nod for the calm and levelheaded support. Millennial Tree and Clotted Creme, too.

And, of course—

He looks to his left, “You didn’t have to… but thank you, Fire Spirit.”

“Nah, you would’ve done the same for me. Actually… you already kinda did do the same for me, so, call it even?”

“You were never indebted to me to begin with…”

“I know, but I’m still here because of you, aren’t I?” Fire Spirit’s grin softened, a flicker of warmth in his eyes, “Least I could do for you, really.”

Wind Archer allowed himself to offer back a thankful smile, along with a small, almost imperceptible nod.

For a moment, neither spoke. Against their own intentions, they stayed like that, eyes locked into each other as the rest of the hall faded into background noise.

Eventually, a sharp voice cut through the moment.

“The majority favors postponing the discussion until tomorrow. We shall reconvene then, prepared with clearer minds and steadier hearts,” Clotted Creme announced.

They looked away from each other as others stood to leave, murmuring among themselves on their way out. Wind Archer waited until the guests had already left through the doors, and once only the cookies he was acquainted and familiar with were left in the room, he finally stood from his chair.

“Sit.” Frost Queen cookie’s sharp voice ordered.

Wind Archer obeyed without a word, lowering himself back onto his chair.

“Finally addressing the elephant in the room?” One of the Ancients—Hollyberry—chimed in, her tone inquisitive but undeniably passionate.

Dark Cacao’s brows were furrowed, mouth set in a straight line, silent as ever. But the way he looked at them felt like a question in itself—

’Do you truly understand what you’ve unleashed?’

“Fire Spirit,” at the mention of his name, the red guardian immediately stiffened in his seat. “Your dark flames, care to explain?”

“My what flames?” Fire Spirit blinked, confused, glancing down at his hands as the faint, jagged flickers danced along his palms.

“He–” one of the Ancients began, but Wind Archer’s voice cut in before the words could form further.

“They’re remnants,” Wind Archer said, keeping his tone neutral. “From the… events that transpired. Nothing conscious on your part, Fire Spirit. Your essence absorbed some of the darkness we unleashed…”

Fire Spirit’s eyes widened.

“But it is under your control!” Wind Archer supplied quickly, gently squeezing Fire Spirit’s hand. “It’s subtle, and manageable.”

It seemed like Frost Queen was about to speak, her gaze narrowing slightly, which usually meant she was unsatisfied and was likely about to probe further, but Millennial Tree Cookie’s calm voice cut in first.

“It seems there is little cause for alarm. Such echoes of darkness are not unknown to this world, and what matters is that they are acknowledged and tended to. Fire Spirit walks under the guidance of my guardian, and together, they shall hold sway over it. Is that not so, my steadfast guardian?” Millennial Tree glanced towards Wind Archer.

“Yes, my liege,” Wind Archer nodded firmly.

“Then we shall continue this meeting tomorrow. Have a good day, everyone.” Millennial Tree Cookie rose slowly from his seat, his robes draping across the floor as he made his way to the door.

Wind Archer rose and followed, quickening his steps to catch up. “My liege,” he called, falling into stride beside him. “Thank you… for your support.”

The elder glanced at him briefly, a subtle warmth in his wise eyes. “I place my faith in you, my guardian. Tend well to what you protect.”

With that, Millennial Tree continued down the hall, leaving Wind Archer standing for a moment with a sense of pride and duty as he watched the elder guardian walk down the hall bathed in a golden glow. It seems that the banquet, in spite of being marred, still took up quite a large amount of time, if the sun was already nearing its set.

It was… surprisingly peaceful, even as other cookies began to exit out from the grand hall behind him, their murmurs turned white noise to Wind Archer who, no matter how brief, simply basked in the gold rays of the sun that filtered through the tall windows.

“My dark flames?!” Fire Spirit suddenly appeared on his side, expression distraught. “You mean it's been there this whole time?!? Is that why everyone’s been staring at me??”

“...Yes.”

“And you didn’t tell me sooner?!”

“Well, it looked rather good on you.”

“Wha–” Fire Spirit froze, calming him down as his franticness faltered.

As if nothing had ever happened, Wind Archer continued walking down the now-quiet halls. The glow from the sun dimmed as the night slowly took its place, long shadows spilling across the marble floor.

As expected, hurried steps echoed behind him a few seconds later.

“Wait up, you can’t just– hey, I’m still talking to you!” Fire Spirit caught up, falling into stride beside him, his expression wavering between sulky and troubled. “You can’t just say something like that and walk away.”

“Say what?” Wind Archer asked evenly, feigning ignorance.

“That—” Fire Spirit gestured vaguely, words tumbling over themselves. “Ugh!” He stopped, clenching his fists, then forcing out a laugh that sounded more tired than amused.

Wind Archer stopped too.

It seems he was wrong, his words did not have the calming effect on the fiery guardian as he hoped it would.

“I don’t know,” Fire Spirit groaned, brows furrowing in frustration. “It’s like I just don’t know anything anymore!”

“Fire Spirit that’s not–”

“Let me finish first, please.” The other cut him off, and Wind Archer let him. How could he not, when Fire Spirit looked so… agitated? Not at Wind Archer, but at himself.

“I used to be so confident at everything, you know? Despite how I act or look, I’m still a guardian who’s lived for centuries and should know a lot more about everything! I’ve fought countless battles, I’ve kept up with everyone else, I’ve stood my ground when I needed to–” He shook his head, hands curling into fists.

“Even then, it’s like I just… know nothing. Like the more I look back, the more it feels as if I’ve been faking it all this time. Pretending I was on the same page with everyone when I was actually two steps behind.” He huffed out a shaky breath, eyes darted down, voice cracking low. “I mean, I always knew I knew less than the others. But at least I had my own fighting abilities to make up for that, right? That was always the one thing I was good at. I can fight. I can burn things. I can do something useful for everyone.”

He swallowed, a bitter laugh escaping. “Then the whole Shadow Milk thing happened. I felt so helpless, like I was just a puppet being strung around.”

“I was also–”

“I’m not finished!” His expression nearly looked like it was pleading with Wind Archer, nearly begging him to just listen. So Wind Archer did.

“But that wasn’t all. The whole time you were talking to Shadow Milk… it’s like… I just didn’t understand anything. You two were literally talking about me, and I couldn’t even understand what it was about! I’m not stupid, I know that, but I just don’t get it at all… I don’t even know my own flames anymore for witches sake…”

Wind Archer stood still for a while, then when he was sure the other was finished, he finally moved. Not talked, moved.

Moved so he was closer to Fire Spirit.

Wind Archer could feel the heat radiating off Fire Spirit. Then, he wrapped his arms around Fire Spirit.

Fire Spirit stiffened at first, his darkened flames flickered, as though it were unsure whether to lash out or embrace it. He opened his mouth, probably to protest, but no words came.

Wind Archer tightened his grip ever so slightly, tight enough for Fire Spirit to know how much he meant to Wind Archer, gentle enough to make Fire Spirit know that he was still okay despite everything... and, slowly, reluctantly, Fire Spirit let himself melt into the pressure, the chaos of everything that’s happened and the storm of his own frustration finding a small respite in Wind Archer’s arms.

“I don’t get us at all…” Fire Spirit mumbled, slowly pushing himself away.

Wind Archer didn’t let him. “Do… do you want us to talk?”

“About what?”

“What do you want to know?”

Fire Spirit’s jaw tightened. His hands, caught between Wind Archer’s hold, curled into fists. His flames snapped against his skin, flaring too high for comfort before shrinking back down, jittery, restless.

“What I want to know?!” Fire Spirit huffed, his jaw tightening. His hands, caught between Wind Archer’s hold, curled into fists. His flames snapped brighter than ever, flaring too high for comfort.

Then it shrank down again, jittery.

“I want to know what you know about me...” It could have been mistaken for meekness with how small he sounded, but the unsteadiness of his flames said otherwise… almost like defeat.

“Why don’t I remember…”

Did Wind Archer undermine the situation…?

He loosened his hold. Not to let go, but to hold Fire Spirit’s trembling fists in between his palms instead. “Because you weren’t supposed to…”

“Wha–?”

“Fire Spirit,” Wind Archer started, tightening his grip, a firm but undoubtedly compassionate look on his face.

“Follow me.”

Chapter Text

Fire Spirit trailed a step behind Wind Archer, the sound of his uneven breaths filling the silence more than either of them liked. The castle’s torches flickered as they passed, shadows stretching long against the stone walls. Wind Archer said nothing after that, and Fire Spirit just… followed, didn’t ask. Although he wanted to ask where they were going, the words just remained tangled in his throat.

Finally, Wind Archer stopped before a narrow passage Fire Spirit hadn’t noticed before. A dead end at the end of the alcove, ivy vines decorated and swallowed the whole wall. Wind Archer placed his palm against the stone.

Something creaked.

A door.

Once the hidden door opened, Wind Archer proceeded.

“What is this place?” Fire Spirit asked, lowering his voice without meaning to as they walked down the spiraling flight of stairs.

“A chamber,” Wind Archer answered simply. His tone carried a firmness that made Fire Spirit’s flames twitch uneasily. “Not meant for most eyes. But you asked…” They made it to the bottom, the ground beneath them even now. “And you deserve to know.”

Fire Spirit gulped. Everything about this whole thing feels forbidden. Like he was never supposed to step foot here.

The air felt cooler now, the chamber opening into a quiet hall lined with carved writings, faintly glowing murals that seemed to move if one looked too long, and runes that emitted a blue light. But the runes aren't what caught his attention, it was the engraved drawings on the wall. Scenes of what seemed like battles etched into the stone wall. Fire Spirit slowed, his steps cautious, his gaze darting from wall to wall.

“Why is this part of history hidden…?” He whispered.

Wind Archer did not answer right away. Instead, he walked ahead.

Walked past the familiar illustration of Millenial Tree, Frost Queen, and all the other guardians, until he stopped at a mural near the far end. The light was dim here, save for the faint glow of an inscribed symbol of flame and wind, intersecting.

Wind Archer turned, his expression unreadable.

Fire Spirit’s chest tightened as he walked closer, his flames illuminating the rest of the engraving.

It was him.

Wind Archer drew a breath, as though bracing himself. “You… you don’t remember this, do you?”

“I…” Fire Spirit examined the engraving. It wasn’t too detailed, just colors that represented a rough outline of his figure. He was lying on the ground, Wind Archer kneeling next to him. It feels significant—looks, significant—but he just couldn’t conjure a single memory similar to what he was seeing. “I don’t.”

Wind Archer seemed to deflate at those words, his eyes looking at Fire Spirit… wistfully?

“We won that fight with the Beasts before. It was one of the toughest wars we’ve fought in…”

“Why can’t I remember?” Fire Spirit asked, his voice low because it felt like he’d break the moment if he spoke any louder. Like he’d break Wind Archer.

Wind Archer’s gaze turned back to the mural, as though he were seeing something far beyond its crude engraving.

“Because… you weren’t meant to.”

Fire Spirit’s flames sputtered.

He was gonna ask more, but Wind Archer turned back toward him.

“That day, we won because you gave more than you should have.” His hand brushed faintly across the engraving. “You were the one who stood when the rest of us had fallen.”

Then Wind Archer’s hand landed on the figure where Fire Spirit laid on the ground. “You burned yourself out, not for glory, not for yourself—” his voice wavered, hand brushing toward the Wind Archer that kneeled next to the laying Fire Spirit, “—but for me.”

…

The silence that followed pressed down heavily.

Fire Spirit blinked at him, mouth opening, then closing, his hands flexing restlessly at his sides.

“What…? What are you saying?” He knew exactly what Wind Archer meant by those words… yet… he couldn’t help but let out a small, almost bitter, chuckle. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“It sounds exactly like you,” Wind Archer gave a small, melancholy-filled smile.

Fire Spirit looked away, his throat tightening. “What, so I sacrificed my powers and lost my memories in return?”

“You died, Fire Spirit.”

The mural’s glow reflected against his dark flames.

“Then I came back.” Fire Spirit said, like he was finishing the story for them both, and Wind Archer’s nod confirmed it.

He should be glad, shouldn’t he? He finally knows the truth. Knows why he’s always felt like the dumbest one in the room during meetings. Why the feeling of incompleteness had always been gnawing on the back of his mind.

Yet—

“But that doesn’t explain why you couldn’t tell me–” His flames continued to flicker anxiously. “Why everyone had kept the whole thing a secret from me.” He swallowed his throat. “What? Did they all just collectively forget about the part where I died? It’s not even that big of a deal, I came back, isn’t that all that should matter?”

“Because I begged everyone to keep it a secret.”

The words struck him like a spark on oil.

Fire Spirit reeled back, “You– what?” Black and red suddenly flickered higher, casting shadows along the chamber walls.

“But I—”

“You begged them?” Fire Spirit let out a wry laugh, chest rising and falling sharply. “How could you be so selfish? You took my choice from me! My past, my memories, they’re mine! I had a right to know!”

“I had a duty to protect you!”

“Protect me?! From what? From the truth?” Fire Spirit’s flames snapped, flaring around his fists. “I’m not some child that needs sheltering and protection! I’m a guardian, just like you! I deserved to know!”

“Because I couldn’t let you do that again, okay?!” Wind Archer exclaimed, raw and unpolished. “I couldn’t let you throw yourself away again. If I told you then maybe you’d do it all over again. Maybe you’d think that just because you came back once, you could come back again. But that’s not the case. You were never supposed to come back. Guardians don’t have second lives—”

“What?” Fire Spirit’s voice cracked, his eyes glinting with hurt more than fury. “Are you saying I shouldn’t have come back? That I should’ve just stayed dead?!”

“That’s not—”

“Then what did you mean?!” Fire Spirit shouted. “Tell me, because all I’m hearing are excuses for why you kept me in the dark this whole time!”

Who gave Wind Archer the right? He thought they were friends, closer than normal friends, even, but friends don’t lie. They don’t hide something like this for centuries. Maybe decades. Maybe longer. How could Wind Archer have looked him in the eye, fought beside him, smiled at him… all while knowing the truth?

It wasn’t just anger burning in Fire Spirit, it was betrayal. He shouldn’t even be this mad, but it did hurt. Like every ounce of trust he had given to the green guardian had just been tossed aside.

“ I trusted you, and you—” his flames flared, higher, “—you couldn’t even trust me back enough to tell me something so important??”

“Because I couldn’t lose you again!”

The chamber fell still.

Wind Archer’s shoulders heaved. “Do you even understand what it was like?” His words shook with something between fury and grief. “You died. And it wasn’t days, or years, Fire Spirit. It was centuries before you came back. Centuries where I had to keep fighting, keep existing, without you. Do you know what that kind of waiting does to someone?”

Fire Spirit’s expression faltered, his flames lowering.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” Wind Archer continued, his voice breaking around the edges. “And then, when you returned, it was like the world gave me a miracle I didn’t deserve. And I swore then I’d never let you throw yourself away like that again… not when it took me hundreds of years to see you just… exist, again.”

Fire Spirit’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Why would you even care that much?”

“Because I–” A pause “I care about you.”

Fire Spirit squinted slightly, his eyes searching the other’s face.

He wasn’t being completely honest.

“Is it really that hard to just tell me everything…?”

Wind Archer’s chest rose sharply, then sank. He closed his eyes, his hands trembling at his sides, before finally letting go of the last barrier he had left

“Because I loved you, okay?”

Oh.

“I loved you back then. And when I lost you... I was far from being okay. But even so, I had to keep moving, no matter how hard it was. I had to perform my duty and obligations like I was okay.” He let out a humorless laugh, his brows knitting upward as he looked at Fire Spirit.

“And then you came back. And every moment I spent with this new you, every time you would fight, laugh, or even argue with me…” he glanced aside, eyes looking wistfully at the mural before returning back to Fire Spirit. “I’m reminded of what I lost. So yes, maybe I was selfish. Maybe I begged everyone to keep it from you. But I couldn't risk you doing it again. I can’t lose you again. Not after I spent centuries without you.”

The chamber went silent, save for the faint crackle of Fire Spirit’s flames. His lips parted, but no words came.

Well. That… definitely sounded like everything

Fire Spirit closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I don’t regret trying to protect you, Fire Spirit.”

He opened his eyes, eyes searching the firmness in Wind Archer’s expression. He just can’t find it in himself to be truly mad at the other, can he? “What… was I like before?”

For a moment, Wind Archer looked taken aback by the question, as if he was expecting him to lash out further. Jeez, did he really think of Fire Spirit as having anger issues or something?

“Not much has changed,” Wind Archer eventually replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “The you before is closely the same as how you are now.”

“Is that… a good thing?” Fire Spirit asked, hesitating.

“...I suppose it is,” He said, almost pondering. “I don’t think cookies really care as—”

“I mean, is that a good thing for you?”

“Yes.”

His flames startled, caught off guard, before softening into something warmer. He looked away quickly, the answer burning him more than his own fire ever could.

“…What were we like?” Fire Spirit asked after a beat, his voice quieter now.

Wind Archer’s gaze lingered on him. He could almost see it in his eyes—that faraway look into a place where centuries still lived inside him. “We…” His voice trailed, caught between reverence and ache. “We laughed more than we fought. You were stubborn and reckless as you are now”

Wow, thanks.

“…But you had this way of making everyday, even the hardest days feel like they were worth something more. Like I wasn’t just a leaf idly being carried by the wind anymore. Being with you felt…” He hesitated, lips pressing into a thin line before he let the words fall. “Nice...”

Despite the warmness—previously bad, now good—Fire Spirit still found it in himself to smirk smugly. “Nice? That's all? Nice?” Still, his throat tightened. “I was expecting something a bit more like… enjoyable.”

“Insufferable. There.”

“At least that’s more passionate than nice.”

Wind Archer stayed quiet, and Fire Spirit’s nerves finally began to crawl on him at that.

“Being with you felt like I was burning in the best way possible… It was fire.”

Maybe he would’ve barked out a laugh at that, but all he could muster in that moment was a small chuckle, nearly unnoticeable chuckle.

Burning in the best way possible.

It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? The past few weeks—months—had been nothing short of chaos. The curse. That night at the tent. Shadow Milk Cookie. That celebration turned riot. And now… this.

But if Wind Archer could look him dead in the eye and say something like that… The recklessness, the noise, the flames that never stilled. He was the same before, he was the same now. Maybe that was what he meant.

And if that’s the case…

Fire Spirit clenched his fists, then forced them to loosen. His throat was tight, his heart hammering, but he swallowed and let the words rise anyway.

“Wind Archer…” His voice came out rough, uneven, but he didn’t back down. “I don’t entirely know what the me before was like, or if I’ll ever remember. But the me now… I want you to know that I—” His flames flickered violently, “—I want you. I want us to pick up where we left off.”

For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of Fire Spirit’s flames as Wind Archer’s eyes widened.

“Fire Spirit…” His voice was low, almost warning, as though he was still trying to force himself to stay composed. “Do you even understand what you’re saying?”

“Of course I do.” Fire Spirit took a step closer, flames flaring hotter, but not in anger. “I might not remember everything, but I know what I feel now… Isn’t that enough?”

Wind Archer’s breath hitched, chest rising as if struggling against the tide of restraint he’d built up for so long. He sighed.

“...It is more than enough.”

And before Fire Spirit could throw in another word, Wind Archer leaned in, pulling him into a kiss.

Burning.

He was burning.

Probably, Wind Archer was too.

They were both burning in this heat. Together.

And Wind Archer wasn’t pulling away, or hissing that it was too hot, he was just…

Oh.

Fire Spirit’s knees nearly buckled when he slowly opened his mouth, allowing the other to enter it.

WOw.

He could taste the restraint Wind Archer had been carrying all this time, could feel it unravel against his mouth into something fierce and desperate.

A low sound tore out of Fire Spirit’s throat as his hands clutched at Wind Archer’s shoulders, dragging him closer.

Wind Archer’s control seemed to crack then. His hand slid to Fire Spirit’s jaw pulling it closer to deepen the kiss, firm and insistent. Fire Spirit groaned into it, sparks jumping off his skin as his body pressed flush against Wind Archer’s.

The wall caught his back, hard and cold, but Fire Spirit barely noticed. His flames scorched at the stone around them, shadows flickering wildly as Wind Archer pinned him there, mouth demanding, breath hot against his lips.

“You burn—” Wind Archer muttered against his mouth, breath unsteady, “—and I can’t stop myself.”

Fire Spirit smirked into the kiss. “Good.”

Wind Archer didn’t. His hands dragged down Fire Spirit’s sides, feeling the heat of him through every trembling inch, until his grip settled at his waist. The kiss grew harsher, tongues clashing, breath mingling. It wasn’t careful anymore, wasn’t cautious and testing, it was centuries of longing exploding all at once.

Fire meeting wind, and heat stirred into a frenzy by a huffing wind.

Wind Archer’s grip tightened at Fire Spirit’s waist, pressing him deeper against the wall, but before he could press harder, Fire Spirit growled low in his throat. In a flash of heat, he twisted, flames flaring, and shoved Wind Archer back, reversing their positions so fast the elder guardian’s back hit the stone with a muted thud.

Wind Archer barely had time to smirk before Fire Spirit crashed back into his mouth, kissing him with a roughness that felt like challenge as much as desire.

“You think you’re the only one who can pin someone down?” Fire Spirit muttered against his lips, cocky even while breathless.

Wind Archer’s laugh came out shaky, but defiant. “You’re not the only one with fire, Fire Spirit.”

And then it was a clash again. Wind Archer surged forward, testing Fire Spirit’s strength, trying to reclaim ground, even as Fire Spirit’s flames flared brighter, pressing harder, refusing to yield. Neither of them wanted to give, neither willing to surrender.

Witches was it intoxicating in all the best ways possible.

Then—

A sound.

Both of them jolted. Fire Spirit’s flames flared dangerously high, while Wind Archer immediately shifted, pulling him close but this time in defense, not passion.

Laughter echoed.

“Awww, how undeniably. Delightfully. Sweet!”

Shadow Milk.