Chapter Text
"There was once a cookie who shone like the sun.
She was a learned daughter of scholars, raised to follow in that path and study the world’s secrets. However, her heart lay elsewhere, for action interested her more than words. She wished not merely to read about the world, but experience it, immerse herself in it, become a part of it. She admired the works of He who watched over the currents of history, whose many hands sometimes guided its shape… so she followed in his footsteps. She became a scribe, a wandering pilgrim who would mark and commemorate every event of the vast world - and where there was stagnation, she would quickly become known as the one who provided Change.
One day, the Herald of Change finally saw her, for her deeds had become notable enough to draw his attention. He was intrigued by her works, but wary of her intentions. Did she think she could steal the powers and duties of a living god, a cookie baked by the Witches to act as a pillar of the world? If so… such conviction should be tested.
Through his devotees, he would arrange for roadblocks to appear in her path, each one more difficult than the last. She passed each of these tests, and thus, the Herald chose, at long last, to visit her personally.
Clad in gleaming armor, a blazing weapon in each of his many hands, he greeted the would-be scribe, and declared that she had impressed him, and more. Yet, he was unsure of what decision he should make, of what her future should be. So he asked her to pick up her spear and meet him in battle. Through this sparring match, through the heat of struggle, perhaps there could be an answer.
Of course, the scribe accepted, just as she had accepted every prior challenge thrown in her path. Thus, they dueled. At first, he held back, not truly wishing to hurt her, but she met the challenge with ease. Intrigued, he elected to show her, for but a few seconds, the full searing might of Change. Any ordinary cookie would have been washed away. He shouted, roared, demanded that she kneel, and yet she did not. She stood. She endured.
She smiled.
By all means, she was an ordinary cookie. A mortal, yet she was unafraid of Change, firm as the earth against its overwhelming waves of heat. The Herald’s onslaught stopped.
He found himself admiring her willpower, her hidden strength, her boldness, her audacity, her radiance. This cookie claimed to love Change, yet she stood defiant against it. This was not a contradiction, for it was her love that birthed this defiance. This defiance was respect, for both the Herald and herself. It was admiration, without submission. Affection, without fear.
her path was as neither acolyte nor thief. She would not stand beneath him nor above him… the only sensible option was to allow her to stand beside him.
His indecision was cured. He offered her his hand, and she accepted.
The wedding should have been cause for joy. Countless cookies came to celebrate the joining of the Virtue with his new queen. Alas, a shadow was cast over the proceedings, for the bride’s father was absent. You see, he despised the Herald of Change, considered the Virtue to be brutish, barbaric. He could only ever see one side of the Herald’s virtue: the side that ruined, the side that destroyed.
Were that man not held in such high esteem, perhaps his opinion would not have been a problem, and this shadow would have been just a speck, meaningless before the blazing sun of joy. Unfortunately, her father was one of the most famed professors of the most exalted academy of magic, whose name was known by Knowledge himself. He was praised for his wisdom, for his disciplined approach, and the way he spoke with clarity when addressing his students.
When Ghee Cookie decreed he would not attend his daughter’s wedding, the entire family followed suit. Their absence cast a very deep shadow, and left a chill that was difficult to ignore.
A lid was firmly placed upon this boiling brew of resentment, and all was well for a time. The Scribe of Change was abandoned by her family, and she tried to pay it no mind, even if her heart cracked inside. The Herald, too, tried to pay it no mind. He would not let a mortal bruise his ego, no matter how famed that mortal was, and no matter how glowingly the Fount of Knowledge spoke of his work.
It was not a peace that could last.
One year out of many, Ghee Cookie, who dared to insult one Virtue while praising another, had announced a grand event, a ritual of magic and devotion. It would be a commemoration of the Witches, the Virtues, and all that they had done for cookiekind, and it would be held upon the most auspicious of nights. There would be feasting, music, prayers muttered and spells of good fortune woven.
All of the most powerful figures of Earthbread were invited to this event: the Virtues, the Guardians of Nature, even the Dragons... everyone, except for the Herald of Change and his Queen. And that was no accident.
For the world to move forward, things must be destroyed so that other things may take their place. That is the cycle of Nature, the unimpeded flow of Change which the Herald was duty-bound to maintain… and it was that exact duty which Ghee Cookie despised.
For what cause should the cycle be maintained in such an unfocused, uncontained, unpredictable manner, Ghee Cookie argued. Why allow the fires of Change to burn and ravage, causing such needless suffering?
This ceremony was a celebration, yes, but it was also a presentation of Ghee Cookie’s vision of the future:
Throughout the night, there would be a grand bonfire infused with magic, and the sweetest oils, grains, and sugars would be tossed in as sacrifices. It would be a contained flame, an orderly maintenance of the cycle… and one that would prove the Herald was not needed.
The Spice of Change understood the gesture clearly. He was angered, but he could do nothing about it. Strike down this petulant scholar, and he proves to Earthbread that he is nothing more than a tyrant and a brute.
His Queen, however, felt that she could do something: she could speak to him. This was her father, her family, and though he dishonored the Herald, his own son-in-law, so egregiously, he was surely not entirely without reason. The Scribe of Change loved her father, and thus she chose to defy him, and attended the event uninvited.
She had set out to confront Ghee Cookie, and had prepared her arguments carefully. Alas, before she could finish a single point, it was all disregarded.
Ghee Cookie interrupted her, and responded not with reflection, but with fury. How dare, he shouted. How dare his own daughter come here, uninvited, unwelcome, to lecture him, to tell him how to lead his ceremony?
How dare she defy him.
Within view of every immortal power, Ghee Cookie proclaimed: how dare she? How dare she lecture him on what is just and good, and pretend she understands the meaning of propriety, when she has and taken the hand of an unruly and uncivilized Beast,?
No, he proclaimed, the Herald of Change is not invited, and that was not a mistake. The Herald is not a Virtue, for he creates nothing of value for Earthbread, nothing pure and nothing good. He should not preside over history, he does not deserve that honor. He is a Destroyer, and a cookie such as that should be left behind, to fade back into the primitive past where he belongs.
There were gasps. Exclamations of shock and horror. The daughter was insulted, but neither ran, nor lashed out. She pleaded, what about me? Your precious and only daughter? Were they not family? Should they not set their differences aside, and face the future together?
For this, she was disowned.
Every cookie of note in that age was present, to serve as the audience to this shocking decree. The Fount of Knowledge, the Seeker of Volition, the Bringer of Happiness, the Salt of Solidarity, every Guardian of Nature, ageless dragons, mortal monarchs, and great heroes, all present, all fallen into silence to listen, as the master of this grand ceremony proclaimed to all of Earthbread,
that Shahi Paneer Cookie was no family of his.
She defied his will, and because of that, she was a disgrace.
she can go join her husband, and fade away until they are both mere footnotes in history.
The disowned and uninvited daughter despaired. Her father was beyond hope… and her grief swiftly blossomed into the fury she had held back for so long.
Because how dare he. Here and now, with all of Earthbread’s gods and kings in attendance, how dare he say such vile things…
… how dare he say it, and then stand still like a coward.
Change respects action, not words. If Ghee Cookie wishes to remove her as his daughter, she proclaimed, if he hopes to overthrow Change, then words alone will never be enough.
He will have to strike her down, personally, and with his own hands. If he truly believes she has no place in Earthbread’s future, then he should toss her into the flames of the bonfire as the first sacrifice of the night. Let him try. If he can dare to strike down his daughter, and if can even manage to overcome Change’s Queen… then she will accept that fate, and she will move on to a life where she and her Herald could rule together in peace,
A life where she isn’t cursed with being the daughter of such an arrogant fool.
The dragons took interest.
The Guardians of Nature watched.
The Bringer of Happiness was horrified.
The Seeker of Volition was quiet.
The Fount of Knowledge was disturbed.
All the guests were silent, and paralyzed in their shock. All but one.
The Salt of Solidarity rose to his feet, and declared this gathering to have become a disgrace. What was supposedly meant to commemorate unity and hope was nothing more than a mutiny.
“Your vile words have insulted more than the Herald of Change on this auspicious night,” declared the commander of the Kala Namak, “have you forgotten that all of us stand together? You defy Change so entirely with your arrogance, your insistence that you could usurp his duty, but in the process, you have defied us all! This is your own progeny, your own family! And yet you abandon all Solidarity with your kin, disregard your daughter’s Volition, and trample upon her Happiness! And all of this… for what? Your own pride?!
Knowledge himself had praised you for your wisdom, your humility, your curiosity and open mind! He uplifted you, named you one of his brightest stars, and you have repaid this honor by bringing shame to his name! No more. I will not remain complicit in this twisted scheme.”
The scholar, his pride wounded and filled with spite, spat at the Salt of Solidarity. He echoes his own daughter’s words: if that is how the Virtues feel, then place those sentiments into action and strike down the usurper. The Lord-Commander of the Kala Namak picked up his blade, but he did not raise it.
“… Do you think me a fool?” He asked. “I see your trap clearly: were I or any of my fellows to smite you for your insolence, it would only serve to bolster your twisted thesis. I will not play the part of a tyrant. I will not act as you have, by lashing out against those who defy me.
I will leave. The wise will follow suit.” Among the gathered crowd, cookies began to rise from their seats. But Solidarity was not done speaking.
“Do not think this is mercy, Ghee Cookie. It is a warning. Continue on this path, and you will invite nothing but ruin. Should that happen, I will act decisively, and cut off this rot at its root.”
The Salt of Solidarity departed. The Seeker of Volition left with him. The Bringer of Happiness and the Fount of Knowledge remained, but they watched now with worry in their hearts.
Ghee Cookie disregarded it all. He ignored the warning. It would not matter, he was sure. And to his daughter who called his bluff, who dared him to put action to his words and cast her into the flames?
Fine. If that’s her wish, he will grant it.
Thus, they began their duel. The Scribe may have been able to stand against living gods, but against her own father… her love must have surely betrayed her.
At a critical moment, she hesitated.
The Herald of Change, far away, heard the whispers of a terrible warning. “Your Queen is here,” the Fount of Knowledge hissed. “She is in danger, my scholar is beyond reason.”
The Herald raced, feet burning with his power as he ran faster than any ordinary cookie could run. He would arrive moments later, but it was a single moment too late. He arrived only to see his beloved burning away in the bonfire’s flames. He roared in agony. His hair came undone, and writhed behind him like black flames, and he leaped into the bonfire without a moment’s hesitation. Powerful arms gingerly pulled the charred dough out from the flames, but his Queen was already gone.
Her light had shone like the sun, and in a single night, a single cookie had snuffed out that radiance. Had thrown her into the fire, sacrificed her for the sake of his arrogant vision.
In sorrow, the Herald of Change slung the blackened cookie over his shoulder, and in fury, he turned his gaze to the crowd which stood by and watched. The earth trembled with each stomp of his feet, and his axe cleaved through stone and dough alike.
Ghee Cookie believed that the Herald of Change was vicious, wild, cruel, and violent. That night, the Herald showed every cookie of note the true meaning of those words.
The Salt of Solidarity arrived to enact his judgment, silencing the fool of a scholar forevermore. This was justice, but it could not calm the Herald’s grief. He rampaged on, still carrying the charred dough of his beloved… and the Salt of Solidarity could not bring himself to raise his blade against a fellow Virtue.
None of the other virtues could do anything.
The Fount of Knowledge could not reason with that grief, and he could not bear to try. It was his scholar who caused this. If he had known better, he could have prevented it. What right did he have to speak?
The Bringer of Happiness could not ease such a pain, and she wept and clutched at her crumbling heart, helplessly watching the tragedy unfold.
The Seeker of Volition did not return. She retreated to her Ivory Pagoda, and pondered how pride could turn wise cookies into fools.
It was one of the Guardians of Nature who brought an end to the terrible event. With his arrows, blessed with the purest wind, he crumbled the body atop the Herald's shoulders into dust and ash. As that ash scattered into the skies, the Herald felt the weight lift off his shoulders, and he stopped.
He was pacified, but not healed. No one could heal this. He walked away in silence, and no cookie dared to stop him.
The sun had gone, and nothing could bring her back.”
“But there is another story, isn’t there?
A story from the lands across the sea…
They say that every evening, the sun dies…
But every morning, the sun is reborn.
It’s true that no power on Earthbread can bring back the sun once she’s set,
But that’s just because we need to be patient.
She’ll rise on her own.”
Split in two, an ancient power
One for a Demon, the other, a God
Shall one return, the other will follow
Yet the two unite must not
Until the heart recalls
O Great One,
Dry your tears, your treasure returns.
“What a strange poem,” Smoked Cheese murmurs, looking over the ancient engravings with curiosity. A soul jam split in two, a demon and a god, a heart that remembers, a treasure returning… he frowns, suspecting that he has already figured out its meaning.
He looks back to his radiant goddess, the one who the wild spices would surely call a “demon”, who must not unite with the Beast who is surely the “god”, who bears the treasure that now returns to the “Great One”. She, too, is deep in thought as she reads over the legend…
… and to his surprise, her expression is a soft smile, warm like the evening sun.
“Now, how did you know about that, you little spices?”
Smoked Cheese was confused. “What?”
“What, what?” She replied, adopting her usual proudly expression as she lifted herself into the air. “It may be a strange poem, but the meaning is straightforward enough, no?”
Smoked Cheese was almost impressed with her for figuring it out just like he had.
Almost.
But then she elaborated.
“Clearly, the Great One is myself: the god with half of an ancient power! And when I show up, Burning Spice Cookie, the demon, follows! The heart that remembers, the treasure returning to me… why, that could be his Soul Jam, for once it remembers its other half, it will fly straight to me, the Great Herald of Abundance Eternal!”
He groaned. “Your radiance…” he said, a hint of exasperated sarcasm in his voice, “… the Wild Spices worship Burning Spice Cookie. Wouldn’t that make HIM the god, and YOU the demon?”
“Hrm. I don’t know,” the Golden Goddess murmured, raising a hand to her mouth as though she was truly pondering it. “Doesn’t sound quite right. Why would MY soul jam return to HIM?”
“Are you serious?! Golden Cheese Cookie, It was originally his!”
“And so was I, but you don’t see me fawning.”
She said it so quietly, Smoked Cheese Cookie almost didn’t hear it.
But he did hear it. And it was definitely not the wind.
“What?!”
“Just a joke, of course!”
Smoked Cheese Cookie did not get that joke in the slightest, but he decided it may be best to just drop this conversation before Her Radiance says something else annoyingly cryptic.
Besides, they shouldn’t stay in one place for long.