Chapter Text
This is the story of how I died.
Don’t worry, this is actually a very fun story and truth be told, it isn’t even mine.
This is the story of a boy named Pure Vanilla and it starts with the witches.
Once upon a time, many years ago, a single drop of life powder fell from the witches themselves, and from this, grew a magic, golden orchid. It had the ability to heal the sick and injured.
Centuries later, a kingdom grew. The kingdom was ruled by a beloved king and queen.
And the pair had been given a baby. But the baby got sick. Really sick, and it was running out of time, and this is when people start to look for a miracle. Or in this case, a manic golden flower.
But, someone had found this flower first, an other worldly spirit named Bachalomoth. Instead of sharing its powers with the world, Bachalomoth hid it from the world. Only using it for themself, and all they had to do was sing a special song
“Flower, gleam and glow
Let your power shine
Make the clock reverse
Bring back what once was mine
What once was mine”
Sooner or later though, the flower was found, and had healed the child’s illness. And had beautiful golden hair. I’ll give you a hint: that’s Pure Vanilla.
To celebrate the little prince’s newly regained health, the royal family launched a flying lantern into the sky. And for that one moment, everything was perfect.
And then the moment ended. Bachalomoth broke into the castle and stole the baby and as quickly as they came, they were gone.
The kingdom searched and searched but the kingdom was unable to find the lost prince.
Far away, across the astral river, hidden in an academy of magic, Bachalomoth raised the child as their own. For Bachalomoth had found their new magic flower, but this time, they were determined to keep it hidden.
But the walls of that academy could not hide everything.
Each year, on the prince’s birthday, the king and queen would release thousands of lanterns into the sky, in hope that one day their lost prince may finally return
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“Heal the world that has been hurt, change the fate’s design, save what has been lost, bring back what was once mine, what was once mine,” sang a small cookie in a soft, hushed voice.
They swung their legs back and forth as they gazed at the fireplace in front of them.
“Why mustn’t I go outside?” The little cookie asked, stopping their legs to turn and glance behind them.
A large figure loomed above them. “The outside world is a dangerous place, filled with horrible selfish people.” The figure said. “You must stay here, where it is safe. Do you understand little one?” The figure leaned closer to the little cookie. Snuffing all hope the child before them could have had.
The little cookie just nodded and turned back around, and began to solemnly swing their legs once again.
Through the long blue curtains, a little light caught the young cookie’s eye. It was hard to see but the cookie knew exactly what it was, and so did that small part of him that desired to leave.