Chapter Text
Prior to being sealed in The Silver Tree, Mystic Flour had been a wish granter.
Cookies brave (stupid) enough to persevere the climb up her mountain, could have their deepest desires made true. All they had to do was ask.
Greed.
Power.
All of it felt pointless.
Cookies still came.
Cookies still made wishes.
Cookies still crumbled.
She had tried to find a solution to their unwavering want and greed.
Tried.
But the wishes never stopped. She had to seal herself into a cocoon just to find a moment's reprieve. To meditate. To pray to the Witches — even if they had not answered their prayers in so long — for a solution.
To hide.
But even that did not stop the cookies.
A whisper from elsewhere on Beast-Yeast convinced cookies that their wildest dreams could be fulfilled if they tore her from her cocoon. Treasures they could only imagine would be theirs if they destroyed that which protected her.
And so, broken and beaten, Mystic Flour used the power bestowed upon her to give the cookies exactly what they wanted.
Power.
Excessive power.
She used her powers to crumble empires, ensnare armies in battles, spread diseases in flora, in fauna, and in cookies.
It didn't matter if a wish was made to stop it, The Seunim of Volition had grown into a Beast of Apathy to the suffering of cookies.
What was the point of taking and coveting treasures when they would all crumble and return to flour at the end of their miserably short lives?
Her power trip did not last long.
The Saint of Solidarity lured the Virtues to the Silver Kingdom, a united stand against the pathetic cookies that hungered for their powers, and gave them up to the Witches that had abandoned them.
It had been the first moment she’d known true peace.
No wishes.
No pain, if she didn't count the Witch’s Fork spearing her abdomen and ankles, or the magic chains that wrapped around her body and forced nausea through her dough.
No suffering.
Her release was conditional: half of her power had been stolen upon her capture, and upon her release the cookie that had been gifted half of her soul jam would seek her out and aid her.
She’d wanted to refuse.
The Fount and The Herald had adamantly refused. The Apostle was curious. The Saint was silent.
She did not care.
She didn't have it in her to care.
What did it matter if another cookie helped her? Cookies would still come to her with their greedy wishes, with their wants, with their hands that tore and hurt and took and took and took without a second thought.
Still, it was a second chance.
The Witches had proven that they could and would still communicate with the Virtues when push came to shove.
Perhaps she could steal her soul jam back and force them to obey her wishes.
So, she returned to her pagoda.
Little Haetae had kept the place tidy for her return. A pointless favor, but appreciated nonetheless.
She spun herself in a cocoon, the longer she could avoid other cookies the better.
She knew to expect her soul jam thief, she hadn't expected the immortal peach gardener to escort him to her.
She could sense them entering her pagoda, crossing the threshold with no hesitation or fear. She recognized the peach flavor but with him was...cacao?
A tentative hand was laid on her cocoon.
“Seunim of Volition.” A deep, weary voice called through her many wrappings. “My name is Dark Cacao Cookie.”
Cacao.
There weren't many native Cacaoan cookies on Beast-Yeast.
“I have been chosen to aid you in your Witch-given purpose.” Dark Cacao continued, his voice gentle, but stern. He was quiet for a beat. “May I speak with you face-to-face?”
‘May I?’
Why not wish to see her? Then, she’d have to obey.
Instead, he asked for permission..?
Cookies did not ask her for permission.
Not to have their wish heard and granted, not to have…
Mystic Flour opened her eyes and willed a crack into her cocoon.
Light poured into her sanctuary, she had to blink to allow her eyes time to adjust.
Just on the other side of her cocoon was a Cacaoan cookie. His dough was dark, as suggested by his flavor, and he had long black and white icing, split almost perfectly down the middle. His eyes were a plum-purple, and he had deep bags under them. He wore a heavy set of armor — complete with a spiked crown — and carried a sword with her soul jam embedded in the hilt.
His eyes softened as he squinted to see in her cocoon.
“It is good to see you, my lady.” Dark Cacao sighed with relief.
Good?
To see her?
“We do not know each other well enough for you to sigh with relief.” She responded flatly.
This did not seem to take Dark Cacao by surprise, he just smiled softly, “Do you wish to remain in your cocoon?” When she did not immediately answer he added, “There were a number of cookies beyond the pagoda gates, wishing to enter.”
Already?
She must've reacted in some way, or perhaps her lack of an answer was enough of an answer for him, for he nodded and turned back to Peach Blossom.
“The pagoda shall remain closed for the foreseeable future.” He said.
“Of course.” Peach Blossom’s voice was as gentle as it always had been. “I will take my leave.”
“Peach Blossom?”
“Yes, my liege?”
“Thank you for your guidance up the mountain.”
Peach Blossom giggled, “Well, after the fall you took, it only seemed like the right thing to do.”
Dark Cacao glanced back at her and blushed, “Ah. Y-yes. Thank you.” He said again.
“Goodbye for now, my liege.” Peach Blossom took his leave.
Pointless civility.
Dark Cacao did not immediately turn to her, instead she watched him turn in slow circles and take in the main chamber of her pagoda. He seemed to take a great interest in her architecture.
Perhaps a mistake had been made and this was Shimmering Salt’s thief.
No.
She'd recognize her soul jam anywhere.
It had been a part of her since she was but batter in a cookie cutter.
“It certainly lacks the practicality of home,” Dark Cacao finally broke the silence, “but, it is impressive nonetheless.”
Mystic Flour resealed her cocoon.
It didn't take long for them to fall into a rhythm.
Dark Cacao would, every morning, take his breakfast in the main chamber. He’d sit on the steps leading up to the silent cocoon and sip his black coffee. Then, he’d clean up the parts of the pagoda Little Haetae could not reach on their own.
Every day, cookies would come to the gates and ask to be seen by The Seunim.
And every day, Dark Cacao turned them away.
“The Seunim is not accepting visitors at present.” He’d quickly dismiss them. He didn't care what they wanted, how badly they wanted, or what lengths they went to to get it.
If The Seunim did not want to be seen, she would receive the privacy she so clearly desired.
He took his lunch and supper in the main chamber. He didn't talk much, if at all, but he hoped his presence was at least comforting to The Seunim.
When she finally did emerge from her cocoon, it was to the confusion of both of them.
Dark Cacao had not been expecting her when he entered the chamber for supper.
“You are still here.” She said slowly, her tone flat.
Dark Cacao had seen beauty in the world before. He’d been a hero and had traveled all over Earthbread with his dear friends. The beauty of nature. He’d been a king and seen the fruits of his rule and labor protect and serve his people. The beauty of resolution. He was a father, he’d seen his son grow into a fine young man, a fine husband, and a dedicated king. The beauty of fatherhood.
The Seunim was different.
Ethereal.
Beautiful still, but ethereal was more fitting.
Portraits and statues of The Seunim were scattered around the pagoda, he should have known she was beautiful, and yet…
Actually seeing her took his breath away.
The first thing he noticed was her hair. Long, silvery-white hair that hung like curtains around her shoulders and barely brushed the floor.
The second thing he noticed was how she held herself. Her perfect posture, despite being seated in a cocoon for days on end, and how every movement seemed to flow from her like air. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn she was a ghost.
Her pale gold bangles, jewelry, and beads were all so simple, in place more due to her status than her own vanity or greed, yet they practically made her pale white dough glow in the setting sun.
However, he could see where her dough still clung to her corruption, her pale skin blackened by the tempestuous power that came with giving into desires. Her nails had grown into claws, each blackened, but other than that, her dough was — naturally — perfect.
The Seunim raised an eyebrow.
Dark Cacao swiftly closed his mouth. He’d been staring.
“Forgive me, my lady.” He bowed his head, “I hadn't been expecting you —,”
“It is still my pagoda.”
Dark Cacao took a breath to keep from immediately snapping back at her, “I hadn't been expecting you out of your shell.” He raised his head, “Had I known, I would have made you a plate.” He held up his plate of glazed jelly steak, fresh greens, and steamed roots.
“Food is meaningless to Virtues.” She answered, deadpan. “We do not require food, sleep, air, nor drink.”
“Food is nourishment. Energy.” Dark Cacao rose up the steps.
Out of her cocoon, The Seunim only came up to his shoulder.
“Here.” He held his plate out to her.
“I said —,”
“I know what you said, my lady.” Dark Cacao cut her off, “And I am saying, here.” He pushed the plate towards her again. “I’ll be right back.”
Before she could protest or argue or refuse, he lifted one of her hands and sat the plate on her palm.
Dark Cacao returned to the kitchen and quickly fixed himself a second plate with the extras he had set aside earlier.
When he returned to the main chamber he half expected to find the food on the floor and The Seunim gone.
Instead, she was standing exactly where he’d left her, still holding the plate, and looking at it as if it were going to attack her.
He chuckled, “Nothing is poisoned if that is your concern.”
“I have no concerns.” She said flatly.
“No?” Dark Cacao asked, then he groaned as he sat on the steps. He rested his plate on his lap and patted the space beside him, “Then you should have no issues sitting and enjoying this meal with me.”
Mystic Flour glared at the back of his head. “Your attempts at making a connection are futile.”
“Oh?”
“Pointless. Even.” She added. She felt strange standing with a plate of untouched food in her hands.
“I see no harm in it,” Dark Cacao took his crown off and sat it aside before he began to cut into his jelly steak. “After all, we have two halves of a whole soul jam. I am here to aid you. What harm could come from trying to get along?”
“You stole my soul jam.” She seethed.
“I was gifted my soul jam.” Dark Cacao shot back.
Had The Seunim been a lesser cookie, she might've thrown the plate on the floor to show her displeasure. Instead, she simply curled her talon-like fingers around the porcelain until it creaked.
She waited for a beat, then relaxed.
What had happened had happened. It was pointless to anger over semantics.
“Sit.” Dark Cacao instructed again, patting the empty space beside him, “it’ll get cold.”
Mystic Flour mulled over the implications. The pros, and cons. If Dark Cacao’s resolution in staying and helping her was so strong, she saw little point in refusing his request.
She stepped over and sat where instructed. Instinctively, Dark Cacao reached up and helped guide her down so she wouldn't — couldn't — drop her plate.
She stared at the plate on her lap. Dark Cacao continued to eat in silence.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Dark Cacao hold something out to her. She looked at him.
It was a steamed root.
“Just try it.” He insisted, glancing at his fork.
The Seunim squinted at him, “Why not wish for me to obey your trivial whims?”
Dark Cacao blinked, “because I do not wish to force you. I would like you to make the choice for yourself.”
“You are forcing me to consume your food.”
“I am asking you to enjoy a meal with me.”
Neither was going to back down.
Dark Cacao matched Mystic Flour’s hard stare.
Slowly, she opened her mouth.
Dark Cacao smiled and pressed the steamed root to her tongue. Mystic Flour closed her lips around his fork and he pulled back.
The roots were soft, yet as she bit into them they still had some bite in them.
They were cooked perfectly.
Dark Cacao looked smug as he turned back to his own plate.
Mystic Flour chewed slowly, and when she was done, she turned her attention to her own plate. It would be pointless for Dark Cacao to share his plate with her since she had one of her own, so she ate what he’d given her, and the pair sat in a peaceful silence.
From then on, Dark Cacao would double whatever he made to share with The Seunim.
He quickly discovered she did not like coffee, she preferred tea. She preferred not to eat meat, but she was also picky about what vegetables and fruits she’d eat. She enjoyed peaches the most, so Peach Blossom became a regular visitor to the pagoda.
“It is like old times, is it not, Master Seunim?” Peach Blossom asked one morning as he dropped off some peach baos for them.
Dark Cacao looked between the pair curiously.
“It is pointless to dwell on the past, Peach Blossom.” Mystic Flour answered.
Peach Blossom smiled sadly, but nodded.
When she walked away, Dark Cacao gently grabbed Peach Blossom’s arm before he could leave. “Forgive my curiosity, but just how long have you served The Seunim?”
“Oh, I wouldn't say I serve her, although I am indebted to her.” Peach Blossom gently corrected, “But…as for how long…” He trailed off, a look of painful nostalgia crinkling his exposed eye. He took a breath, “The Seunim found and offered me sanctuary when I was but a young dough. She and her Haetaes practically raised me. Then, when I was older, I wished to stay and repay the favor.” Peach Blossom smiled fondly and giggled, "And she gifted me my beautiful garden."
“So,” Dark Cacao mused, “there are things she cares for…”
“But of course,” Peach Blossom giggled again, “She may have been a Beast of Apathy, but The Seunim cares deeply for her mountain, and those who reside on it.”
“Does she?”
“At least,” Peach Blossom looked him up and down, “those that respect her.”
Dark Cacao hummed thoughtfully, then thanked Peach Blossom for the delivery before he closed the pagoda gates.
As much as The Seunim might've wanted to keep her pagoda closed, she knew if she did not open her gates soon then he would come.
Still bitter at his trickery, The Seunim braced herself for what would inevitably be an onslaught of greedy wish-makers.
“Are you certain you wish to do this?” Dark Cacao asked, “if you are not ready —,”
“It matters not if I am ready.” She answered, taking her seat in the central chambers.
“It does matter.” Dark Cacao ascended the steps and knelt before her. He took her taloned hands in his and gently ran his calloused thumbs over her knuckles. “It matters to me.”
Mystic Flour’s throat felt dry. “It shouldn’t. It is pointless to care about what I feel.”
Dark Cacao shook his head, “No.” he whispered, “How you feel is just as important — nay — more important than any wish they may be seeking.” He nodded over his shoulder towards the gates.
She wasn't sure what to do with herself. Cookies had never cared about what she wanted, what she felt. Not even her fellow Virtues…at least…not since they each fell to their own temptations. Why did Dark Cacao?
As if sensing her confusion, Dark Cacao rose to his feet, her hands still in his, and said, “You hold half of our soul jam. I am meant to aid you, carry some of your burdens so that you may find peace.”
Right, of course, it was his job to care.
“But that is not the only reason as to why I care about what you feel, and why it is important to me.” He added quietly.
Mystic Flour didn't know what to say to that. She didn't want to think about the implications of his words. Nor did she want to linger on how he’d never once looked at her in fear or anger. Or the way he held her hands reverently, as if she was worthy of…
“Feelings,” she finally forced herself to speak, “like wishes, are but temporary waves in the spring of life.” Dark Cacao looked upset..? She sighed and closed her eyes, “All are meaningless as we shall all return to flour at the end of our days.”
Her eyes snapped open in shock as Dark Cacao’s calloused hand reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Not us.” He said quietly. “We are bound to this life. Together.”
Mystic Flour swallowed, her mouth dry, “Unfortunately.” She managed to force out.
Still, Dark Cacao’s job was to help and aid, so the wave of greedy cookies she’d been expecting was little more than a trickle. While she used to see upwards of 100 cookies a day (she was sure it’d be more if her pagoda wasn’t so hard to get to — hence why it was so hard to get to) she only saw three cookies before noon.
One wished to have the roof in their house fixed. The constant wind from the mountains was causing his child to have frequent shivers.
The second wished for the pain in their hands to go away. She’d been a painter in her youth, but an accident had caused her to lose most of the mobility of her fingers.
And the third had wished for her to revive their dead plant. It had been a gift from his grandfather before he passed and he felt like a failure for having let it die. He wanted a second chance .
When no other cookies came forward, Mystic Flour frowned.
“Curious.” She mumbled to herself. As she rose from her seat and descended the stairs, she could hear happy humming just outside the main chamber. She stepped outside, squinting in the sun, and saw Little Haetae happily sweeping some fallen leaves into a pile.
“Little Haetae —,”
The tiny creature spun around, their eyes lighting up, “Master!” They squealed and bounded over to her.
Mystic Flour instinctively stroked the soft fur on their head. “Where is everyone?” She mused more to herself than the Little Haetae.
“Oh!” Little Haetae perked up, “Mister Dark Cacao has been - uh - veterinary them!”
Vetting.
He was vetting cookies?
Mystic Flour left Little Haetae to their chores and walked through the pagoda, silent as a stone, and found Dark Cacao standing just inside the gate, his sword in his hands.
“Dark Cacao Cookie.” She spoke up so as not to alarm him.
Dark Cacao turned and looked at her over her shoulder, “Seunim.” He bowed his head respectfully.
Mystic Flour pursed her lips, “You are…vetting cookies?”
Dark Cacao scoffed, “You should have heard their wishes.” He grumbled, then he turned to her, “Would you like to join me for lunch?”
He always asked. He gave her the option to refuse.
Mystic Flour looked at the gate.
Dark Cacao glanced back at the gate, “I think I have made myself sufficiently clear.”
“What have you done?” She asked flatly. She was curious, but only because the amount of wishes she’d been granting was significantly lower than what she’d been expecting.
Dark Cacao offered her his arm, but she refused to take it. He sighed, then gestured for her to walk with him, “I am simply refusing to allow cookies in that clearly mean to wish for harm.”
Mystic Flour said nothing.
“In my kingdom,” Dark Cacao continued, “There were auditors who would check and verify information. It being the first day the pagoda has been opened in hundreds of years, I did not wish to overwhelm you with wish-makers.” They made it to the kitchens.
Little Haetae was here too, stirring something in a pot, “It’s almost ready, sir! I made it just as you instructed!”
“Very good, Little Haetae.” Dark Cacao smiled at them. Mystic Flour stood just inside the door. She’d never had a reason or a need to come into the kitchen, so the place was as foreign to her as the furthest reaches of Earthbread. Dark Cacao, however, moved about with ease. He still needed to eat, after all, and he’d been living at the pagoda for nearly two months, so it was natural he’d gotten comfortable in the space.
In one of her spaces.
Dark Cacao spoke as he moved, “Those cookies,” he spat, “The first dozen tried to fight their way in.” He chuckled as he sat three deep dish trays beside the pot, “Tried.”
“What I do not understand is,” Mystic Flour finally found her voice, “Why send those three cookies in?”
Dark Cacao thought for a second, then opened a closed pot on the stove and poked around at whatever was inside with a serving spoon. He closed the pot, “They were the only wishes I had heard thus far that did not include greed.”
Mystic Flour would have to disagree, “A father wanted the easy way out in fixing his home.”
Dark Cacao whipped around incredulously, “He was blind, my lady. Blind and with little community support.”
Oh.
“An artist at the end of her life wanted to create meaningless paintings that will sit unseen after her crumbling.”
“She wanted to feel the joy of creating one last time. And to what end is art created? Art is not meaningless so long as it is made with passion, intent, and the cookie spirit. What greater gift than the ability to create?”
Okay, so he had an argument for everything, it seemed.
“A boy neglected the small life he had and wished for a second chance to right his wrongs.”
“You were given a second chance.”
“He will fail again.”
“And you?”
Mystic Flour’s eyes opened. Dark Cacao was staring right at her. Little Haetae was awkwardly still stirring the pot.
“Perhaps you being here, your second chance,” Dark Cacao turned back to the stove and opened the pot again, this time spooning out great heaps of rice into the deep set trays, “Is someone else’s wish fulfilled.”
Mystic Flour scoffed, “A foolish waste of a wish.”
Dark Cacao helped Little Haetae spoon what they’d been stirring on top of each pile of rice. It appeared to be a thick, chunky sauce.
“Perhaps.” Dark Cacao finally conceded, then he and Little Haetae brought the trays over to the low table and sat down. He motioned for her to sit with them.
“Thank you for the food!” Little Haetae clapped their paws together before digging in.
Mystic Flour was thankful for the conversation to be over with and accepted her seat on the floor with them. They ate in silence, aside from when Little Haetae asked for more and Dark Cacao obliged. Mystic Flour tried not to think too hard about the replacement that had clearly been done for the meal, trading jelly steak for tofu, likely for her own palate.
It was strange having someone notice and care about her.
After lunch, they each returned to their separate duties. Mystic Flour had been expecting an onslaught of wish-makers as revenge for her earlier row with Dark Cacao, but only two more cookies came to her chamber.
One wished for answers in her parents unsolved crumbling. The Seunim had to look through the poor girl’s memories, forcing her to relive that night as she found the answer she sought.
The second wished that his village would have a plentiful harvest as they’d suffered through floods, droughts, heavy snow, and blights all within the past ten years.
Mystic Flour waited until the sun began to set before she rose from her chair again. However, she didn’t even make it to the steps before the door opened and Dark Cacao entered.
“I have closed the pagoda for the night, my lady.” He bowed his head.
“Hm.” She hummed.
He sure seemed dedicated to auditing who could and could not receive a wish. Why? What made him the decider on what was a good wish and what was a bad wish? Now he was closing her pagoda after five wishes?
“Will you have dinner with me?” Dark Cacao asked, he stood at the bottom of the stairs.
She didn’t answer, but she descended the stairs and looked up at him expectantly. Dark Cacao smiled and led her back to the kitchens.
And that was their routine for a while. Dark Cacao would check with her every day to ensure she was ready to work. When she was ready (she always was) he would open the gates and vet every. Single. Cookie. One at a time. And only those whose wishes were selfless or for the greater good of a community (without causing direct harm to others) would be granted access to the pagoda.
To her surprise, however, once a week, he would keep the pagoda closed. He never asked if she was ready, never opened the gates, he never even acknowledged the change in their routine.
It was only after the second time he’d kept the gates closed that she asked why he was doing so.
“To give you some respite.” He’d answered. “Cloud Haetae and Peach Blossom informed me that you enjoy being able to meditate in peace. You may use this day to do so.”
Mystic Flour kept expecting the other shoe to drop. For Dark Cacao to grow weary of hearing the same greedy cookies make the same greedy claims every day and demand to see her. For him to give in to apathy and let them all in her pagoda.
But he never did.
His unwavering resolution to helping her was…
Nice.
It was nice to not be bombarded, to not be shouted at, to be grabbed at, to be forced to —
Well…it was nice.
So, she was surprised when Dark Cacao was late one morning. It was not their day of rest, so the silence of her chamber was…unnerving.
Where was he?
Just as she resolved herself to find her…soul jam thief, he entered, tucking something into a pocket within his robe.
“Where were you?” She asked, forcing her tone to remain even.
Dark Cacao still smiled at her, “I apologize, my Seunim. I had received letters from my son and friends last night and was rereading them in the better light of morning.”
Friends…
Right, Dark Cacao had had a life before her.
“Are you ready, my lady?” Dark Cacao asked.
Mystic Flour nodded.
That evening, after the last (and only the third) cookie left, Mystic Flour found Dark Cacao still rereading the letters he’d received. Each one made him slowly break out into a smile, then sigh fondly.
“What makes these friends so special?” She spoke her thoughts out loud without meaning to.
They were meant to be sharing supper together, which was usually in a comfortable silence, but seeing Dark Cacao so…distracted…made her dough uncomfortably warm and tight. This was their time together.
...
Not that she cared.
Dark Cacao slowly tore his eyes away from the small pile of letters. “Well, they have also received half of a soul jam. We traveled together as heroes, once upon a time. They are my most trusted and beloved friends. I enjoy hearing from them, and I am pleased to learn everyone is settling in so well.”
“And if they weren’t?”
Dark Cacao gave a half-shrug, “I would offer them any advice they wished to receive.”
Mystic Flour pursed her lips again, “It is pointless to offer advice when it will inevitably lead to the same fate.”
Dark Cacao just hummed, once more distracted and smiling at his letters. “My son wrote to me.”
Mystic Flour didn't care.
“I am grateful for him.” Dark Cacao sighed as he reread the letter, as if expecting the contents to change, “He had lost his way a while back, but has worked hard to restore his honor and the trust of his people.”
Mystic Flour didn't care.
He shook his head, “I only hope he may see how proud I and our people are of him. He believes it is only due to his wife.” Dark Cacao chuckled, “Caramel Arrow is the pride and joy of the Dark Cacao Watchers. She makes a natural leader.”
Mystic Flour didn't care.
She couldn't take anymore of his pointless conversation, so she stood. “Good night, Dark Cacao Cookie.”
“Wait.” Dark Cacao stood and followed her to the door, “You have not finished your plate.” He grabbed her wrist gently, keeping her from leaving.
“I do not require sustenance.” She reminded him. Her dough burned where he touched her.
“Nourishment.” Dark Cacao reminded her, “Energy.”
“It is all pointless.” She glared up at him through her bangs.
“Not to me.” He lightly shook his head.
And didn’t it always come down to that?
“Do not think I am blind to what you are trying to do.” Mystic Flour seethed.
Dark Cacao looked confused.
“Second chances. A wayward soul finding its way back to the light.” She could feel her dough cracking as shadows fell across her brow. “Tell me, little cookie.” She reached up with a clawed hand and cupped his chin.
Dark Cacao swallowed hard as his dough began to harden and flake away where she touched him.
She was returning him to flour.
“Was this what you wished for? To be tied to a beast for all eternity?” She glared up at him. “I know why I was given a second chance. Do you?” She squeezed his cheeks, which hardened and threatened to crumble under her talons.
Dark Cacao grunted in pain, his muscles and dough felt as though they were on fire! His mouth felt dry, painfully so, as his tongue crumbled behind gritted teeth. He grabbed her wrist in an attempt to throw her off of him, but despite her small and thin frame, she was immovable.
“I was given a second chance as a punishment. I am no wayward soul. I will not crawl towards the light, towards forgiveness. Not when, in the end, we will all be equals. All flour. All nothing. It is all meaningless.”
She let go of him, his dough slowly returning to normal, as if nothing had even happened. Dark Cacao gasped for air and watched her leave.
The following day was her rest day. Mystic Flour spun herself into a cocoon before Dark Cacao could deliver her morning tea. She spent nearly six hours in the dark, meditating, but also fearing for her life.
Would he come?
Would she be forced back into The Silver Tree for threatening to crumble the wielder of her other half of the soul jam?
Would Dark Cacao unleash a monstrous wave of wish-makers into her chambers. Mystic Flour didn’t think she could handle it again if he did.
Their jaws that bite. Their claws that catch. Twisting and pulling her, forcing her to watch, forcing her to…
Nothing ever happened.
As a matter of fact, she didn’t even hear Dark Cacao for the whole day.
Perhaps…perhaps he had left…
Better for him, then.
…
Still…
Mystic Flour cut a slit through her cocoon and peeked outside.
Her chambers were dark and empty.
No sign of Dark Cacao.
No sign of anyone.
She resealed herself inside her cocoon.
The next day, she’d expected their routine to continue, so she reluctantly climbed out of her cocoon.
Dark Cacao did not come.
Mystic Flour frowned and stepped out of the main chamber. The Pagoda seemed normal. She could hear Little Haetae humming happily somewhere, a morning fog hung low over the walls, and there was…shouting?
Arguing?
What was that about?
Mystic Flour followed the source of the commotion and found Dark Cacao braving his arms on either gate. His head was sticking out of the gap and he was shouting.
“You will retreat back to your camps or I will fight EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU OFF THIS MOUNTAIN!” He shouted, his voice firm and resolute.
An uproar came from the other side.
Mystic Flour’s eyes widened and her steps faltered.
“The Seunim is NOT granting wishes today! BEGONE, GREEDY COOKIES!” He waved a hand at them, but quickly pulled it back in to brace against the gate.
Another uproar came.
“USE REASON! ” Dark Cacao shouted. “She is but one cookie! She must make decisions based on the greater good for ALL of Earthbread! You ask that she give and she give, and all you want to do is TAKE!”
Mystic Flour’s chest felt tight. She laid a hand over her collarbones. Why did she ache?
“She needs respite! She needs rest! Have you no sympathy for the one you call ‘wish-giver’?! What of her wishes?!”
When another uproar did not follow, Dark Cacao took a loud, deep breath in. “I apologize, sincerely, to those who do have a true need for The Seunim’s gifts, but I must ask those who must see her…please…return to your camps. Your resolution and determination to come here and persevere on the mountain is great, and I will see to it that your woes are heard…but please…not today.”
There was a wave of grumbling that trickled in past the gates, but no one seemed to argue. Dark Cacao waited, watching something she could not see, before he stepped back, closed, and sealed the gates.
He sighed and rested his forehead against the doors.
“That was…futile.” Mystic Flour blurted out.
“Gak — a-ah!” Dark Cacao clutched his chest as if her presence pained his heart. “Seunim, a-apologies, my lady.” He turned and bowed his head, “I did not see you there.”
“Your struggles against them,” She stepped closer to him but remained out of arms reach, “are meaningless. They will return tomorrow and —,”
“And I will stop them again.” Dark Cacao cut her off.
Mystic Flour did not understand his unwavering resolution. How could someone holding her soul jam be so…so… passionate about protecting and serving her?
“Why?” She asked.
Dark Cacao cautioned a step forward, “It is not only my job and my duty to aid you, nor is it due to our shared soul jam —,”
“Stolen soul jam.”
“Shared soul jam.” Dark Cacao was not letting her win. “But because I know there is more than just a shell of apathy around you.”
“You do not know me.” She shook her head.
“No?” Dark Cacao raised an eyebrow and cautioned another step towards her. She stepped back into the shadows of the walls of her pagoda.
He followed her, enunciating with every step, “I know you prefer tea over coffee, even though you swear Virtues do not need drink.”
She continued to step back, to put distance between them, and he continued to close the gap. “I know you do not eat meat if you can help it, but you enjoy tofu.”
Her back hit the wall. Dark Cacao towered over her.
“I know you wept when Little Haetae’s mother was slain. I know you try not to show weakness to them, but you pet them and comfort them when their grief is too much to bear.” Dark Cacao tilted his head down to stare directly into her eyes. She turned her head away.
“I know other cookies have hurt you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Her dough felt two sizes too tight. She did not want to think of them.
Dark Cacao tucked two fingers under her chin and turned her head back to face him, “I know of all the fruits on Earthbread, you prefer peaches. They are native to this land. You saved Peach Blossom Cookie. He tends to the Peach Gardens that you gifted him. It was his wish to serve you, and you found a way to make that happen. To keep him close. To protect him.”
“Stop.” She finally whispered.
“No, Mystic Flour.” Dark Cacao’s voice was gentle, he cupped her face in his hands. “It is my wish to serve you. To protect you. It is my job, yes. We share a soul jam, yes. But you are more than the beast they claim you to be.”
“Stop.” Her eyes were burning. Why were her eyes burning? “Please.”
“Mystic Flour, Seunim of Volition, Master of the Ivory Pagoda.”
She blinked open her eyes, hot tears staining her dough. Dark Cacao gently brushed her tears away with the swipe of his thumbs. “My wish is for you to let me care for you.” He whispered.
Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly.
“But do not grant such a wish if it is not of your own volition.” Dark Cacao added quietly. “Grant me this wish because you want it as well.”
It was too much.
Too much…protection? Promise? Warmth (she felt warm again)? Fear? Hope?
It was too much.
Apathy would protect her. Apathy would promise her a life unburdened by worries. Apathy would shield her from fear. Apathy…was not warm.
Apathy was not Dark Cacao.
And she wanted Dark Cacao.
His devotion, his protection, his company.
His resolution.
She swallowed hard, her lip trembling despite her best efforts to remain neutral. She looked up at Dark Cacao.
He looked at her, not with expectancy, but with…some emotion that was too much for her to handle and unpack right now. She’d worry about it later.
“Your wish,” Her voice was much more hoarse than she’d expected it to be, “Is my command.”
