Chapter Text
Eons ago, five Emissaries were set upon the world to right the wrongs of their creators. Many a beast ran afoul; old, experimental creatures too miserable to survive but too powerful to die.
It was the duty of the angels to end them.
The first to be created was the Pillar of Solidarity. They gathered all the living cookies, and brought forth a militia that could compete with the might of wyverns and jelly worms. They assisted the other Emissaries in their rise of status as well.
The second was the Fount of Knowledge. A being of divine intelligence that was only bested by the Witches themselves, she led them through to victory. It was through her observations that they were able to discover weak points and use the land to their advantage.
The third was the Herald of Change. When all was being remade, from the horrors of the past, he called upon the young and old alike, and pivoted the world from the reckless, honorless battles to a peace loving state.
The fourth was a Saint of Volition. She sustained the angels’ will, and worked tirelessly to bring calm to all those cookies around her. She never asked a thing of them, and helped others persevere with her generosity.
The last was the Bringer of Happiness. When the peace came, she helped to uphold it. Working to build a new world was tough work, and she made sure that the contributors could relax without worry about everything falling apart.
Of course, there are others in their story. A Tragic Sun, Ancient Heroes, Renowned Children, Natural Guardians. But few of them are relevant here.
The Herald of Change wandered aimlessly through the halls laden with tapestries. One shouldn’t forget the history of their home, especially not one they built with their own two hands, and Cayenne Spice did not have the Fount of Knowledge’s perfect memory.
He skimmed across the portraits easily, having seen them hundreds of times before, and having imagined them hundreds of times before weaving them.
A portrait of the Pillar of Solidarity caught his eye.
It was one of few that actually depicted the cookie without their helmet, which almost seemed welded on with how much they wore it.
Their vibrant purple eyes were the main focus of the weave, sharp against the blacks and whites and greys of the rest of it.
Ah… how their relationship still persisted, despite all the time and despite the violence that started it, was truly a wonder of the world.
The Herald resolved to contact his partners soon. He required a break from the torture that was politics.
But first.
“O, Herald of Change,” a turmeric pig priest proclaimed. “There has been a new civilization to the east of the forest of aromalice. Would you like to send aid to them? Oink?”
“Wonderous news. We can spare some coin for their growth.”
“O, Great One,” a kulfi priest called out. “A civilization in the prairies has fallen. Would you like us to take them in to be our denizens? Fi…”
“A pity. But, that is how change is.”
Creatures lived, and died. Civilizations did the same. A child is birthed, grows into a fine adult. The child-turned-adult wields a weapon, and becomes a hero in their own tale, a villain in another’s. They keep fighting for their ideals, or fall to corruption.
In due time, they will be forgotten.
Their culture will be forgotten.
Was that… really… all it had to be?
“Fellow Emissaries,” Cayenne Spice pondered. “Does it ever feel as though… everything leads to the same ending…?”
“We can make our own ending, then,” the Bringer of Happiness said. “We have already done so once. There is so much peace, now.”
“O, Herald of Change! A new civilization has sprouted! Oink!”
How lovely.
“O, Herald of change. I come with saddening news. A civilization has perished. Fi…”
A shame.
Alas. That’s Change.
“It’s just… No matter what I do, nothing ever helps,” he sighed.
“They are too short lived to see the consequences of their actions,” the Saint of Volition responded. “They only live in the present.”
“O, Herald of Change! A new civilization has sprouted! Oink!”
Of course.
“O, Herald of change. I come with saddening news. A civilization has perished. Fi…”
Such sorrow.
Alas. That’s Change.
“But I want them to understand now,” he said. “Hundreds upon hundreds of times this has recurred, and yet, it still happens.”
“Sometimes, you will have to accept they simply do not care,” The Fount of Knowledge supplied. “Trust me, if you try too hard to convince them they are wrong, they shall scorn you and ridicule you and call you mad.”
“O, Herald of Change! A new civilization has sprouted! Oink!”
How did this keep happening?
“O, Herald of change. I come with saddening news. A civilization has perished. Fi…”
Why did this keep happening?
Alas. Change.
“You people aren’t listening to me!” the Herald yelled. His nails dug into the table.
“Say what you really mean, then,” the Pillar of Solidarity sighed. “We will try to understand.”
“O, Herald of Change! A new civilization has sprouted! Oink!”
Make it stop.
“O, Herald of change. I come with saddening news. A civilization has perished. Fi…”
Witches above make this hell stop.
How many times did this have to happen?
Where was the change?
“These– Mortals! These cookies do not understand that I am just– I just want to help them!” he shouted. “And yet over and over and over and over and over again they ignore me– ignore us! And make the same damned mistakes! Every fucking time!”
“Have you tried to understand it from their perspective?” The Silver King asked. “Had a crazed, old king come, telling me to change what I and my whole country had been doing for generations, I would not trust him so much either.”
“O, Herald of Change! A new civilization has sprouted! Oink!”
How much longer would he have to suffer?
“O, Herald of change. I come with saddening news. A civilization has perished. Fi…”
How much longer would he need to deal with this pain?
Why wouldn’t it change!?
“A crazed old king!? We were chosen by the Witches themselves to lead cookiekind, Edelweiss Faerie! You might not have been, but the rest of us were! I can’t lead a bunch of crumbs if they’re so intent on crumbling that they refuse to listen to the reason of someone who has seen the same things hundreds upon hundreds of fucking times before!”
“O, Herald of Change! A new civilization has sprouted! Oink!”
“O, Herald of change. I come with saddening news. A civilization has peri–”
“Yes. I understand,” he glowered. “That’s enough.”
He was so… bored of all of this.
Born. Grow. Wither.
Born. Grow. Wither.
Born. Grow. Wither.
Time and time again.
Over and over again.
“O, Great One, it may help your mood to watch the new civilization grow. Fi,” the kulfi suggested.
“O, Great One, it is growing quickly. Soon, it will blossom into a new civilization, Oink.”
“And what would be new for it?” he sighed. “It will burn away eventually. Or fall to famine. Or have a civil war. Or just… slowly pitter out… like a bucket with a hole.”
“Fi. There will be new technology–”
“New technology that will be forgotten within a century! That’s all that ever happens! That’s all they do! All they can do! Born, grow, wither! Born, grow, wither! Gah!”
The centuries old table was flung into a wall.
”HOW MUCH LONGER WILL YOU FORCE ME TO ENDURE THIS!?” he shrieked.
“Forgive us, O, Great One!”
His nails dug into his Soul Jam.
His supposed blessing from the Witches.
Gods above!
How was this damn thing supposed to be a blessing!?
He was in hell!
Hell!
“I will step outside,” he growled. “I do not feel well.”
“I’m done with you five!”
“Cayenne Spice, don’t be like that–” the Bringer of Happiness grabbed him around the wrist.
“NO! None of you are fucking listening! You’re all liars! None of you give a shit! You can all just go home to your little pavilions or spires or gardens or whatever! I have a kingdom to run!”
Why did he have to be trapped in such torture?
What had he done to deserve such a thing?
What could he have possibly done to deserve such a thing!?
He dug his claws into the tapestries hanging off the walls.
Those… damned… wretches…
Everything was so…
BORING.
He needed to feel something.
He needed it.
He wrapped a hand around his wrist. The same one Powdered Sugar had grabbed a few months before.
It was so… easy to rip off an arm.
The agony, oh the agony.
He almost cracked a tooth trying to hold back his screams.
But Witches above it felt so, so good to feel something again.
The jam sluggishly crawled down his lowest arm, drip drip dripping onto the floor.
Grooves in the jewelry wicked the jam around his wrists.
He needed to feel it more.
His legs were stained red by his own jam, the colour pooling around near the bottom and trickling down to the floor.
While it was nice while it lasted…
His kingdom was long overdue for a bit of… destruction.
Everything in history had to come to an end.
He could then nurture it back up–
No.
NO!
“O, Herald of Change, please give us mercy!” the smaller spice critters cried.
“Why… why must I endure this… terrible monotony… for you?”
Smog choked out all of the air in the land. Everything was burning beautifully.
In the distance, he could see everything.
The Ivory Pagoda, slowly crumbling down into itself.
The Garden of Delights, pouring out smoke.
The Kala Namak Knights being burned alive.
And the Spire of All Knowledge. Ah.
It was right in front of him.
The students being evacuated. The books being burned.
And it was amazing.
Oh, feeling something so strongly was so fun.
Sometimes… the only path to change… was Destruction.