Chapter Text
The Human gods were not the first to be created, but they were the first to create beings of their own. They labored for many days and nights, carefully crafting their precious masterpieces.
Crafted from the same stardust and blessed with emblems of great power, the Divine Emissaries were born.
Created to guide and protect humankind in ways their creators could not, the five set out with their noble purpose in mind. At that time, humans and spirits lived harmoniously. Belief was strong, and the connection between the moral and spirit realms was open and thriving.
And yet, time passed, and people changed.
They began to question the gods and their existence, began turning away to other religions or just giving up belief in general.
It frustrated the Fount of Knowledge, Shadow Milk, to no end.
And so, he began to teach a different kind of lesson.
Petty tricks and pranks, swapping fresh water with stale pond water, appearing in dreams and urging someone to make a fool of themselves, he did all this and more. Nothing that would ever cause true harm, but enough to tell the world “we’re still here. See us. Believe.”
And yet it didn’t have quite the right effect.
He slowly gained a reputation as a trickster, delighting in misery and cruelty. And while he did enjoy seeing someone get nicely pranked, he didn’t enjoy actual cruelty!
He received countless warnings and reprimands, yet never truly changed his ways.
“They are losing their faith,” he argued. “What will we do if they give up on us entirely?”
And so he continued.
One day, he was summoned by his mother, First Milk, god and patron of healers.
“This nonsense has lasted for far too long,” she proclaimed, disappointment clear in her gaze. “I see now that a stronger lesson is required.”
He found himself bound by powerful magic, unable to move. His mother gently placed two fingers on his forehead.
“Until the day you learn true compassion and care for humankind, you will be bound to the mortal world they call home, unable to leave.”
And with that, the Fount of Knowledge fell.
His power had been greatly diminished, and he was unable to interact much with the mortal realm, as he was still a being of the spirit realm.
And so, with nothing else to do, he watched. Trying and failing to gain the “care and compassion” his mother so desperately wanted him to have.
Yet he just couldn’t find it in him.
He watched as the eons passed and they began destroying the natural world they shared their home with, watched as more and more gave up belief in the gods, watched as his siblings and all other spirits left the mortal world behind, leaving him alone.
He was angry, at first. How dare these foolish mortals abandon the gods that dedicated their existence to guiding them! How dare his siblings and friends leave him alone, stranded in a world where no one could see him!
Over time, however, as he watched and watched and watched as humans made the same mistakes, fought the same fights, came up with the same short term solutions that never solved anything, his anger faded.
After a millennia of being an unseen observer, everything just… began to blur.
The human cities became misty glass and concrete blobs, unimportant and inconsequential. The foolish humans put barely any plants in their modern abominations, no wonder they were always complaining about the heat!
He longed for the clean, fresh air of the spirit realm, his home. To see a sun unobscured by clouds of smoke. To taste clean rain, untainted by metal.
And yet his curse remained.
At one point, he just laid down in the middle of the street, asphalt pricking his back and wings, staring up at the sky and the endless rain that poured from it. Like the world itself was mourning what it used to be, back when humans had respect for what truly mattered instead of a foolish social construct.
At least he could feel the rain on his face. Not much else in the mortal realm could even touch him, let alone see him-
“Oh gods! Are you alright?!”
Suddenly, there was a worried face staring down at him.
The first thing he registered was yellow.
This person- a mortal- wore a bright yellow jacket, and even their hair was blonde.
Shadow Milk stared up at them in shock.
“You… can see me..?”
His voice was scratchy from disuse.
The stranger frowned. “Well, I can see just how much magical energy is radiating off of you. I haven’t seen this much since the last time I saw a spirit, and that was years ago.”
Shadow Milk smiled. Of course.
This person had spiritsight, the ability to sense and interact with magical currents and beings. It also explained the cane, as most mortals couldn’t comprehend both physical and spiritual sight at the same time and often grew very sensitive.
Shadow Milk looked back up at the stranger, eyes catching onto something.
This person wore his mother’s emblem, the symbol of healers.
A devoted mortal? How rare. How exciting.
Shadow Milk used a minor spell to hoist himself up, gently gripping the stranger’s shoulder and guiding him off of the road.
He had forgotten how nice it was to touch another living thing, faint as the sensation may be.
The stranger sighed in relief, turning to face Shadow Milk.
“Thank you…” they laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name…”
Shadow Milk grinned. Finally, an opportunity to do his job!
“Look closely, Orchid. I’m sure you can figure out who I am with those special eyes of yours~”
The stranger blushed, but cracked their eyes open a tiny bit. They gasped, hands trembling around their cane as they registered who they had found in the middle of the road.
“You’re… Shadow Milk…”
Shadow Milk knew what came next. The fear. The horror. The disgust. Trickster. Liar. Deceiver. Fraud-
“… the Fount of Knowledge…”
Shadow Milk’s eyes shot open.
“You… know who I am..?”
His voice cracked.
The stranger grinned. “Of course. Honestly, more people should do their homework. Realizing you weren’t created as a trickster is incredibly easy to figure out.”
Shadow Milk’s hands trembled slightly. He was seen, properly named, and having a real conversation for the first time in centuries?
Oh, this mortal was absolutely fascinating.
“And… what is your name?” Shadow Milk asked, voice uncharacteristically gentle.
The stranger smiled, opening his eyes just a tiny fraction once more.
“Pure Vanilla.”