#thesixthredemption

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Hellooo! So due to exams coming up, I'll have to postpone TSR chapters til end june, there MIGHT come a chapter in-between but I really have to focus on my studies right now, sorry guys! You'll get more chapters in july 

[r1poffmyface]

「The Sixth Redemption」

Yandere Beast Cookies x Reader part 12

Previous | Next. Wordcount 4.0k

'Cause the world is ugly, but you're beautiful to me. Are you thinking of me, like I'm thinking of you?

"How are you holding up?"

The king's shoulders flex, his violet gaze not waning from it's stern expression, beneath it, you can tell he's anxious, or akin to that.

Somewhere along the excursion along the peaks the Pagoda where the air thins and you can see the clouds much closer than the ground, Cloud Haetae Cookie offers you all food, steamed white buns, a simple delicacy of the Temple. Both you and Dark Cacao passed up on the meal, and whilst the Dark Cacao warriors were refuelling their energy, you took the moment to talk with the Holder of Resolution

"I'm alright worry not." His glove tightens around the hilt of his chocoblade. "But my sword...holding it in my grasp as never felt so....unfamiliar ever since we stepped foot on this continent."

That's...concerning. You glance back, the others are preoccupied, laughing talking, eating. You're out of earshot to hold this conversation, hence why Dark Cacao Cookie brings it up, he trusts you enough to release the crux of his newfound worry. After all as a fellow owner of a Souljam, who better can understand the responsibility it harbours? You put your hand out, accompanied by a soft-spoken request.

"May I have a look?"

The steel lifts and gets placed in your open palm, the great sword is eye-catching, the most being the diamond jewel in it's hilt, glowing a striking purple. You brush your hand over it, it's cold and jagged to the touch.

"...I do sense a tremor...dread, fear, something in between." Your hand lowers from the gem. "I'm not quite sure what to make of it. The plausible conclusion is that it's...reacting in fearfulness of a presence."

His face hardens, composing of that stern will he retains when faced with the darkness he so bewares. "That of the Beast?"

"Most likely scenario, yes." 

"I see..."

You give back his sword and instantaneously deflect your eyes when his hand brush against yours for a sec longer than necessary, Dark Cacao Cookie fishing up a cough from his throat as well. The illusion of quiet does not last long as his eyes measure up the cracks on your face. His sturdy voice surprisingly softer.

"Those cracks you bear...A healer should've checked up on them before we set out, my apologises." He addresses, straying as far away from any invasive intonations as he can. In the side view of his vision,  you pull the sleeve of your cloak over you hand, hiding the fractures. You smile lightly, the pitch in your tone rather odd.

"I'm afraid It's more complicated than that. But thank you for your concern Dark Cacao Cookie."

He nods.

As if on par with the conclusion of your conversation, Cloud Haetae Cookie happily calls out to the group. "Now that we've refueled... Let's keep going!"

"Do you see that large stone statue? Mystic Flour Cookie's followers erected this statue for the day she would emerge from her cocoon!"

What stands before you is an statue, boasting multiple meters high. It's cut from pristine stone, made in the image of a saint. It's poise emotionless as if deep in it's own thoughts. You eye it, trying to school your expression away from conveying unease. It's a spitting resemblance to her. It ensnares you with solemnity, the same weight you felt when you saw her bestow her boundless generosity.

"This Mystic Flour Cookie must have done a lot of good in her previous life. A statue this big must have required the strength of many Cookies to make." Caramel Arrow Cookie remarks.

"Oh, wouldn't the world be happier with only Cookies that are nice?"

"But as you know, My Lord, the world isn't always that happy and peaceful. Many Cookies came to have their wishes heard even after Mystic Flour started pursuing enlightenment inside her cocoon."

The same generosity that you adored and envied from afar. Like the stars admiring the splendour of the sun, and never be able to get closer than the dusk and dawn allow.

And perhaps that also was for the best. Stars bring darkness with them, as did you. After all, you were the first to start questioning your roles into this world.

Doubt and anger that manifested into long, blank stares and quietness, and upon the virtues' inquiry, you would brush it off, biting down the whispers that would engulf you in your lonesome.

"When their wishes weren't immediately granted, some angry Cookies tried to invade and take over the temple! Every time, I curled up and watched them from underneath the stairs... Their eyes were glowing... ablaze with hatred!"

"So I ask, My Lord, do you have a wish of your own?"

Dark Cacao Cookie considers the Haetae's scrutiny, grimness passing along his countenance. "A wish... I do. A rather simple one. My only wish is to continue protecting the Dark Cacao Kingdom."

"I have cut down countless foes and crises with my trusted sword... all to protect the Dark Cacao Kingdom and my loyal subjects. I cannot imagine a future for the Dark Cacao Kingdom without my sword. All I wish is that I may spend my time defending my Kingdom, protecting it, no matter the disasters we face."

You thoughtlessly follow bits of whatever they're discussing. Too engrossed staring deeper into the Pagoda, at the lotus flowers that drift in the golden waters, the leaves that glide down from the trees without a hint of a breeze and remember how there was a time when you would sit under it's shade with the Master of this Pagoda and exchanged heartfelt laughter as you each recounted your day's happenings.

"What about you? Do you have a wish?"

Your thoughts break and you snap to the voice beside you, Cloud Haetae Cookie looking at you in curiousity. Your eyebrows knit close together.

"...Me?"

"Mhm!"

Your eyes trace back to the still branches without an answer. Dark Cacao Cookie had said your resolve is what this world needs. But what you carry doesn't feel like resolve. You don't pride through your days with resolve, not anymore.

"...I used to."

Cloud Haetae tilts their head. "Used...to?"

These days, you just feel empty. Following a sense of obligation than any of your own inclinations. As long as everyone else is happy and fulfilled, then that's all you care about. And if you keep offering parts of your broken existence to help others....

Then maybe one day, the nightmares will stop. Maybe one day, you can forgive yourself. 

The days you've wasted away in a unlit room by the far end of the Faerie Kingdom with nothing but the clamour of your thoughts may be a thing of the past, but the feeling that kept you rotting in your own self-loathing is still there. In the events that are now present, addressing your own woes come secondary. You'll just have to bottle them up and cast them away, hoping the tide of your own mind sinks them into oblivion. Like you've done so so many times.

Old habits crumble hard.

Another leaf whisks down and dips into the pale pond. "I used to wish that no Cookie would have to go through suffering. That there would be a day when there is no more injustice or cruelty in the world."

Cloud Haetae Cookie goes silent for a while. "...That is a very selfless wish. If I may ask, is there a reason you don't harbour this desire anymore?"

You press your lips into a straight line, trying to reiterate your statement, sensing the little Haetae's genuine interest in your perspective. "I learned the hard way, that wishes are just that...wishes. And that holding onto them, no matter how selfless they are, is often setting yourself up for failure."

"Now, I merely do what I have to." You finish.

Cloud Haetae's round eyes analyse you yet again from head to toe. Something coming to light in their mind. What that is, you're unsure. "Hmm...from what I understand, you appear to be a Cookie with a lot of sorrows and regrets... perhaps even...anger?"

They're quick to wave their hands in dismissal at your stare. "But that's just a guess!"

Their hands clasp together. "I do sincerely hope that you may find the way to leaven that burden someday!"

You turn to the Haetae finally, giving them and glum smile then pat them on the head, much to the Haetae's suprise. "I hope so to."

They smile "We're almost at the Grand Temple! Let's hurry!"

"Is it fine to go on? Cloud Haetae Cookie! Is this really the right way to the Grand Temple?!"

The fog is still not yielding, it's scent is stinging your throat and obstructing everyone's field of sight. You've been following Cloud Haetae Cookie with only the remnants of their silhouette in the faint distance, the echo of their voice nagging at you to keep up.

"Of course, of course! The temple is my home! I could find my way blindfolded! Please follow me, quickly!" Their voice reverberate from the vast mist.

A Dark Cacao warrior nearly stumbles to your right. "Eugh... I can't see! Slow down!" He calls out.

Over here! This way now! Oh, c'mon, you slowpokes!

Hurry up!

I even gave you food to eat earlier...

Crunchy Chip Cookie's face scrunches up in suspicion. "This Haetae... They're getting awfully comfortable with us. Come to think of it, what was the creature doing before we met?"

"They said they were just playing around all alone at the temple." Comes Caramel Arrow Cookie's response, whose holding the grip of her bow tighter.

"Beast-Yeast is full of danger, but they were just playing around? Is that even possible?!"

"Of course it is." You answer lightly, simultaneously counting the steps. one, two, three, the stairs are just up ahead. "You just need to know where to be and when."

"Everyone, ready your weapons. We are not far from our destination. Once we arrive, all secrets will be revealed. So focus and climb those stairs!"

"Yes your majesty!" The Dark Cacao warriors shout. You reach into your cloak, weighing your options, the cold steel of your daggers come in contact with your hand. A Confrontation with the...Beast, is manifesting as the only reality, and you're starting to feel the pressure of what is to come. You're at a huge disadvantage, none of you knows what's ahead.

Cloud Haetae Cookie knows more than they're letting on. Slips of the tongue and questions that are far too targeted to be a coincidence. Your hand lingers on your weapons...there's a pulse beneath your dough.

You can't tell if it's your heart pounding or your Souljam.

"Yay, we've finally arrived! My Lord! Open your eyes and look around you!" Cloud Haetae exclaims.

"This is none other than the Grand Temple, the biggest and most magnificent temple on Earthbread! Its proper name is the Temple of Hollow Tears, but we just call it the Grand Temple!"

"Hollow Tears"..? What a peculiar name for a temple." Dark Cacao Cookie mutters.

Soon you all hit a road block, Caramel Arrow Cookie is the first to speak up. "The fog is still too thick for me to see it properly, but...There's something... white hanging in the air..."

Your eyes widen. What hangs in the center of the grand area you're in, is a shell encased in pale noodles, suspended in the air. The wheat petals and diamond shape gem is enough to elude to what it is you're looking at. Cold waves of dread rush over you and your throat might as well be clogging with flour, with how dry your mouth is. Is that...

"Wait, isn't that... the cocoon?!" Crunchy Chip Cookie yells, finishing your thought out loud before you could.

"Does this mean the cocoon has remained unharmed this whole time? With Mystic Flour Cookie still inside..." Dark Cacao Cookie asks quietly, earning a guileless reply from Cloud Haetae Cookie.

"Indeed, My Lord. Eons have passed since Mystic Flour Cookie entered the cocoon. Even as she confined herself to this shell, all she wished was for everyone to live happily and free from pain..."

"How does it feel, My Lord? To witness her most desperate wish."

The blinding fog returns, it trickles in by the edges of the room, so thick you can't see anything past it. Goosebumps cover your arms and you're suddenly on high alert on how confined you all were to this space. This is not right. Why did it you this long to figure it out? The cadence of Cloud Haetae's voice is all around, it comes from the crevices of the walls to in front of you.

"The sublime will to keep herself enclosed in this cocoon to save Cookies from their suffering... How does your resolution compare to hers, My Lord?"

The sail here, the disappearance of the other Cacao warriors, the finding of this temple without so much as a sweat to Cloud Haetae Cookie offering to guide you all without any push or convincing. How could you been so caught up in in your own despondency to notice?

"The legends say that Mystic Flour Cookie's precious resolution has been split in two...Do you not believe that it is right for the stronger of the two halves to take ownership of it?"

Dark Cacao Cookie covers a part of his face as the mist obscures his vision. "The distant voice...! The vertigo! The thickening fog...! Who's responsible for these tricks?!" His voice lowers in threat. "Cloud Haetae Cookie! Is it you?! Or the work of a Beast?!"

"La la la! Answer my question first, My Lord!" Cloud Haetae Cookie singsongs, ignoring the King's demand for answers. It's then a Dark Cacao Warrior coughs, a white powder sullies his black glove. "... Huh? It's flour.."

The warrior next him gasps, bumping into Crunchy Chip Cookie. "You coughed up flour! It's the Pale Ailment!!!"

The sick Cacao warrior screeches. "What? Me? No... No! It can't be! I don't want to be sick! Please, help me! YOUR MAJESTY!!!"

Dark Cacao Cookie observes the commotion and grumbles, his hold on his sword adjusts, slices through the air when he lifts it. " I refuse to take part in your foolish games any longer! Even if this cocoon was made to save all the Cookies in the world, I no longer care! It has become clear that it was Mystic Flour Cookie who struck my Kingdom with the Pale Ailment! I will cut down any danger to my Kingdom with no hesitation!"

"I will not waste my opportunity to eliminate this threat that lies in front of me!"

Before you know it your hand reaches out.

"Dark Cacao Cookie, don't! It's!-"

A trap.

It's too late, and the cocoon comes undone in two hollow pieces. Cloud Haetae goes utterly still, their conduct having done a complete spin, they stare at the lot of you with unblinking eyes. Their tone resentful as they utter their final say, the fog swallowing them up after.

"You're no different than the others...the ones who wanted to hurt the cocoon to satisfy their own selfish greed..."

Dark Cacao Cookie glares at were the Haetae once stood. "What did you just say?!"

...

...

"I, the master of the Ivory Pagoda, speak to you."

That voice.

Your hand lowers and your body goes lax. An uproar wracks on the walls of your mind, yet your limbs stay frozen. You can't move, not as the others go into defensive positions, readying their weapons, not as they look around trying to the origin of the one talking.

"Wha... What?!"

"Where's that voice coming from? There's nothing inside the cocoon!"

The speaker continues, voice firm however monotonous in it's timbre.

"Born in the first land, I was baked with the power of ancient magic. It is my purpose to protect Cookies with my unwavering willpower and lead them to Paradise."

"I enclosed myself in a cocoon for the sake of my followers, and yet the world seen from inside the cocoon was far from pure...Cookies putting their own greed first, pushing and shoving to have their own wish fulfilled before anyone else..."

"Witnessing this, my heart grew forlorn and empty."

"At first, I believed this emptiness would crumble my dough, but my cocoon remained strong and intact throughout the ages. Time comes and goes as Cookies are baked and crumble once again... but I learned how to overcome time itself simply by being me."

"Just as I was one step away from becoming the Leavened One..."

"Someone spread a false rumour that my cocoon was full of treasures."

Your gaze rises, familiarity sparks at that, howbeit bitter. You find parallelism in her words.

I knew it! The rumours are true!

While we are suffering from famine and on the verge of war, you are hiding away and shunning anyone who comes for your help! You don't deserve to be an emissary of the Gods, because you never were one to begin with!

The two of you had been the closest amongst the virtues. Closer than ever admitted. Your hopes and wishes harmonised with on other. Your duties relied on the wants of the common lot of Cookies and when those weren't met, they got hostile. Even the ultimate discarding of said duties were rooted in the cruelty done by Cookiekind.

What a cruel twist of fate.

The fog parts just slightly, It curls and reveals a Cookie that steps forth. Her pure white hanfu sweeps against the tiles as the only sounds that follows her. Her hair is set up in a bun, pale bangs falling softly around her face. A crown of wheat petals dots her Souljam that rests on her forhead. She hadn't changed a bit, apart from the veil that whisks over her back, well her outward apperance that is.

Your eyes stay fixated on her, even as you step back discreetly behind the others and tug at your hood.

"The cocoon was cut open with one slash of a sword. Fake immortal, they said," Her head tilts just a inch, toward Dark Cacao Cookie. Her hand put out to him just barely. "—just like you."

Dark Cacao Cookie brandishes his blade to her. "Mystic Flour Cookie! You... You Beast...!!!"

She continues talking, unhurriedly. Her every utterance even and removed from any viable emotion. "What do you think of my story? Does it not make you feel... like everything is futile?"

"No matter how strong your resolve is, no matter how hard you try, this world will never change. Everything will be in vain and turn to hollow tears."

Her posture returns to it's closed off poise. Her body movements reminds you of a lotus bud, impassive and subtle. Sealed off from any external factors. It's captures you in a thrall, stealing your attention.

"I, Mystic Flour Cookie, shall tell you the truth."

"A world in which individual desires exist will never be an ideal world.The one who covets the grass will soon wish for a whole forest. The one who seeks out a cave to escape the rain will soon wish for a big house with a roof. There is no guarantee that even your most basic wishes will ever be granted."

Mystic Flour's eyes open, just a fraction, there's no trace of the once heartfelt compassion she draped herself with. Just a shell now devoid of any sentiments she held close, it's as if she wasn't fully present, even as she preached her nihilistic doctrine.

"The wish to protect your Kingdom... your subjects... Both are ultimately useless causes that will do no more than inflict endless pain. You must free yourself from worldly affairs and anguish. Throw away all that you know to achieve true enlightenment."

The dough of the Dark Cacao warriors begin turning white, they scream at the sight and her eyes shut again.

"You, who arduously carried the burden of your King. Do not forget the reason you were born." She adresses to the suffering soldiers.

"Return to flour. Set yourself free from the fear and pain of the perpetual cycle of being baked and crumbled."

"You dare use your sly tricks on my subject?!" Dark Cacao Cookie shouts, the anger in his voice booms across the temple. "Do not think for a second that we will fall for your floury tricks, for they are nothing but white dust standing against our firm determination! May my razor-sharp and unwavering resolution punish you!"

The Beast does not sway by the King's threat and instead the atmosphere curls, rippling through the air. You sense...something akin to bitterness, yet too detached to fully adhere the term.

"Resolution...! Fraying, worthless conviction... " Mystic Flour Cookie says, repeating the word as more of an confirmation to herself, a regained sharpness to her voice. No sooner does her tone mellow out again. "...Is that the resolution you speak of?"

"My once strong conviction... was split into apathy and resolution." Her eyes snap open to glare at the king, her irises slit and hollow. "The true owner of your resolution... is none other than ME!"

Dark Cacao Cookie's sword drops as he grunts in pain, you and Caramel Arrow Cookie rush up to him yet he put up his hand before you can enquire his wellbeing.

"May the curse of the Ivory Pagoda befall all who fail to recognise this truth!" Mystic Flour announces with nothing but indifference.

From the inside of the Cocoon something emerges, a pale spider, it's legs twitch and crawls over the remains of the Cocoon, hissing at you as it locks it's sight upon the group. The Dark Cacao Warriors pull forth their swords and point it at the massive creature. Crunchy Chip Cookie shouts in horror. "Y-Your Majesty! The thing that was inside the cocoon...... was a huge spider! "

"Oh, crumbs! It was a trick after all! Look out! That thing is coming right at us!" Caramel Arrow Cookie nocks the arrow, draws her bow and aims it at the thing. "I shall fight by your side, Your Majesty! I will do all to make sure this battle won't be in vain!"

You attempt to draw your daggers, however Dark Cacao Cookie blocks you with his arm, you two exchange a look and after a silent mutual understanding you nod hesitantly and back up.

Dark Cacao Cookies readies his stance as the creature leap at them. "Very well. SOLDIERS, ATTACK!"

You watch the fight unfold from the sidelines, undisturbed. Until the sensation of a thousand spiders crawls over your dough. You try to overlook the feeling, but it soon proves too irksome. You look around carefully.

She's...she's staring at you.... You can't place the emotion, or lack thereof, in her gaze. But she's definitely staring at you. Her eyes are half-lid, almost narrowed. The phrase "Deer caught in headlights" would be be an accurate description to how you probably look right now.

Stop staring at me. You chant in your own mind. Keeping your expression as neutral as you can. Yet the moment stretched out for seemingly forever.

The battle ends and the Dark Cacao warriors are victorious. Mystic Flour's gaze lingers on you a moment longer. Then her eyelids fall, head slightly shifting back to the warriors.

"Those who have yet to experience true futility...soon it shall permeate your heart, seeping in like mist...And then... your resolution, too, shall fade to white."

The temple starts fading into a void of white and it's master turns around with resigned withdrawal.

You catch the implication immediately. This whole place disappears with her retreat. You act before thought can intervene, glimmers ignite and you rush forward in less than the blink of an eye. But it's still too late and you stumble into the white abyss.

And when you look around, Dark Cacao Cookie and the others are nowhere to be found.

The only thing you can see is overarching mountains, trees of blossoming pink petals and a long set of stairs.

The flour mountains?...

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

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-Faceless

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「The Sixth Redemption」

Yandere Beast Cookies x Reader part 11

Previous | Next. Wordcount: 3,2k

I fear that I'll love so much, you'll slip away 

Please leave comments and your thoughts on the chapter, they motivate me lots! Thank you <3

If there is one thing that is the cruellest of all, It must be suffering. A life taken unjustly, by hand or tragedy, those who are forced to live in hardship, not having enough food to sustain themselves or a place they can call their own, and by night's arrival, crawl into a warm bed.

All these essentials to live a satisfactory life, do unfortunately not come to all. That's why Cookies harbour wishes, hopes for a better day to come, a better life. To grant Cookies' wishes, is to grant them betterment.

That's what the Flour of Volition believes.

There's movements around her person, hands adjusting her hanfu and pinning her hair into place. Every touch is gentle, and maintaining an even rhythm, Flour of Volition tracks each movement in the corner of her eye with the same diligence she embodies, and with each shift of her position, a laugh softer than the spring breeze reaches her ears and guides her chin back forward— a simple gesture that has her face dipped in warmth.

"Flour...Please keep your gaze forward." You giggle, securing another pin into her pale hair. "I am almost finished."

"I apologise..." She murmurs sincerely, her eyes drop down in fluster but soon, quietly roams back to watching you work. The sun was submerging into a sea of bold colours, making rays of gold leak into the open window behind you. It made you look...glowing, heavenly, more so than you already were.

She studies your visage before looking ahead once more, her heart beating louder than the gong used to announce the start of a wishing service

You had that look about you again...that wistful expression. You often bore that countenance during prominent moments of quietness.... she never could truly gauge what was happening in your mind during those junctures in time. You often frequented the Pagoda, you'd drink tea with her, clean the passageways of the temple or assist her with preparations for the wishing ceremony, as you are now. All of these things you did out of your own will. You never asked for anything in return, you just..were here.

Another pin fastens into her hair. You gently instruct her to lift her arms and she does as you bid.

It was as puzzling to her as it was pleasantly relieving, to be in the presence of another without the expectancy that she'd need to grant their wish. Although...Every Cookie has a wish, do they not? Its in their nature to seek worldly ambitions and pine for them.

Yet, you never voiced any desires or gains you wished to have....is it odd that she wishes you would?

The Saint traces the concentration evident on your face, then down to the Souljam displayed on your chest. Redemption...She sometimes wonders what the tenets of such a concept entails.

it must come with a heavy responsibility to shoulder. You hardly divulged the inner workings of your thoughts or how you felt, not even how your day had transpired at the cathedral. Any inquires was met with dismissal, not cold, just aloof, like you didn't want to go into it. The dark colouring under your eyes, blank stares you hold when you think no one is looking and the innumerable inconspicuous cuts and bruises on your dough are further proof of that.

Her flour-coated lashes fall over her eyes. She can't deny that she yearns to fulfil your heart's desires, to leaven the burden that must come with your purpose.

"Do you have a wish?" She asks, she isn't sure how to best eloquent her voice.

You pique up from behind her. Your hands lowering from your task of brushing out her waist skirt. "A wish?"

For a while, you're silent. The flour of Volition looks to you, anticipating your answer, her hands clasp together, unexpected nervousness budding along her nerves. Usually she can determine a person's wants fairly easy, but she can't deduce you.

You were like a star.

A blinding ray of light, beautiful and comforting, yet too fleeting to hold, even if thought to have captured its warmth, it soars out of reach, always straying worlds away and leaving behind longing.

It's then you speak. "Hm, well...no I don't think I do."

"Do you truly not wish for anything?" She probes, the words escaping her lips a bit too fast. The two of you have had this conversation before, it doesn't deter her from asking again.

A small smile quirks the corners of your mouth and you return to securing Flour of Volition's waist skirt. "Indeed." You cease what you're doing. "Is there a reason you're asking this for?"

"I just..." Flour of Volition's eyes lid, her gaze softening. "I don't want you to suffer or feel dejected." She doesn't finish the sentence. Instead she turn around and takes your hands in hers. "If there's anything you want, I can grant it, no matter how big or small, all you need to do is tell me."

You stare at her, and she at you, finding herself getting captivated by the hue of your eyes, she wonders if you see the world just as bright as she does when you're around.

Your hand travels to brush back a strand of her white hair. "Flour...you don't have to worry, truly."

Greed has everything and nothing all at once.

It arises from the depths of ones heart and exhausts in an relentless cycle to satisfy that which can never reach satisfaction. Greed follows where wishes goes, they're never ending, and why shouldn't they be?

Those who desire for simple luxuries will soon wish for more, a constant hunger for value, it matters not how pure a want is when the practise of it in itself warps into poisonous monster. Is this what her will had lead her to? The corrosion of everything she once cared? Or... had it been like this all along? This...ugliness?

What a meaningless reality. Everything is for naught, wishes, desires, ambitions, volition. All of it...

Her voice was dull admits each shallow breath her body forced her too inhale. "...How could this happen? My meditation revealed nothing but Apathy. And yet my body did not crumble."

The Grand Temple was desolate, laden with the remains of the greedy, the not, and a fog that marred the halls in a veil of white. She looked around with the last bit of strength she had.

A glimmer across the room caught her eye. The Flour of Volition rises from the debris of her cocoon, her attire tattered and smeared. Fatigue weighed down her whole body, she walks toward it. A low table, on it stood a tea set...It appeared handcrafted from wood, woven with intricate details.

She doesn't remember having this.

There's was a letter, folded, leaning in front of the crockery. She picks it up, glossing over it with detachment, until she notices a fine scribble. Her name.

It was your handwriting.

Something akin to hesitation stirred into her movements. Her expression doesn't waver, still she carefully unfolds the letter.

I carved this tea set for you for when you emerge from your cocoon. I hope you found the enlightenment you were looking for. (Would you to tell me about it during our next tea gathering? :D)

You.

...

Tears are in vain, they're hollow. and utterly pointless. So why was she crying? She didn't notice, didn't notice the splodges appearing and smearing the ink on the paper or the quiver of her hands the longer she holds the letter.

You..

She brings the paper to her chest, hugging it close, it crinkles under the weight of her desperation embrace. Her empty gaze lifts, staring at nothing. Her sorrow vanishes like the mist in the air, and taking it's place is apathy.

"...Indeed. For this is the right path. A meaningless path into the void... to free Cookies from the ugliness of greed. "

...And thus the Saint of Volition became the Seeker of Apathy.

The Ivory Pagoda was in a state of stagnation, it had been so when it was derived of it's master for eons, and continued to be when it was not.

Mystic Flour Cookie sat on the polished tiles of the Grand Temple, hands folded on her lap, the delicate, colourless fabric of her dress covering the expanse of the ground. Her eyes were closed, expression void of emotion, fixed solely on the vacancy of her senses.

That is, until a shadow rips itself from the darkness that lurks in the corners of the temple.

Cloud Haetae Cookie shots up from their curled position, growling at the intruding figure, only backing up, tail beneath their legs, when shadows lash out at them.

The silhouettes retreat, curling at Shadow Milk's footing.

His cane taps against the dark beige tiles. The Beast himself watches the Haetae with mild interest before turning his attention to the centerpiece of his visit. Mystic Flour Cookie didn't need to look to know who was there and the moment pauses in a uncharacteristic silence for a obnoxious showman such as he.

"Your presence disturbs my focus." She said, tone possessing no reprimand or tolerance to his arrival. "Leave."

A grin stretches onto the fool's visage. "Aww, is that any way to greet old friend?" The cane swings in his grasp and he takes an bow. His voice adopting an insincere edge. "In any case, accept my humblest apologies~"

Shadow Milk Cookie glances up with a nefarious glint. "I do hope you can find it in your apathetic heart to forgive this lowly Jester..." His smile widens. "Especially with the news I bring~ News you'll find...most delightful."

Mystic Flour said nothing in response.

The master of Deceit circles behind her, floating a few feet above the floor, eyeing her for every minuscule reaction she may give, when she gave none, he scoffs lightly, making a full cycle around her.

"That ever- so miserable king of yours should be on his way, shouldn't he?" Shadow Milk turns his back to her, examining the flat surroundings. "I saw his ship on my way here."

Mystic Flour Cookie's back straightens again. "Get to the point."

Shadow Milk flips, watching her countenance upside down. "Impatient, are we?...." The Beast giggles, mismatched eyes travelling to the side while he draws out his next words almost innocently. "There's a Cookie with him."

He lines his body up again and he sighs. " A adorable little thing~" Shadow Milk looks back, his eyes crinkles in wicked amusement. "...And one we're veryyy familiar with, care to take a guess?"

Mystic Flour Cookie's eyes open, half-lid and distant, staring at him like she wasn't truly there, nonetheless, Shadow Milk Cookie hooks onto the reaction, turning around to face her fully. Pointing his cane in her direction. "Oh my....Is a that crack in your apathy I see?~"

The conversation reached a dead-end. Her eyelids fell down once more.

"whatt? No 'thank you' in return?" The jester mocks.

"Ah, I suppose not then...toodle-oo~"

The Beast vanished in a smoke of blue with every dramatic flair he came in with.

"Ah! What are you doing, pointing your sword at me?!" Cloud Haetae Cookie shouts, wide-eyed to the other one at other side of the sword.

Caramel Arrow Cookie tug back the nook of her bow, aiming it's tip at the Haetae as warning. "How about an arrow then?"

"EEEK! Is this how you Cookies usually greet others?!" The Haetae recoils into themselves. "I've done nothing wrong! I am but a little Haetae, who has watched over this place for ages!"

To see this little Haetae after...eons is too bizarre for words, you'd known haetaes have a longer lifespan, but after this prologue isolation..had they been here all along? The last conclusive time you came here, you hadn't seen anyone, not in most of their dominions, like any trace of their once existence had been swallowed up alongside their imprisonment. Then again... you hadn't stayed around longer than you had too, nor were you in the right head space.

"Haetae?!" Dark Cacao Cookie repeats confused. 

The Haetae props his head up proudly. "That's right! I'm Cloud Haetae Cookie! Faithfully following the orders of my honourable master" He stretches his arms out the the barren Pagoda. "So what do you think? This is the Ivory Pagoda, a temple once revered by many!"

The Dark Cacao warriors share a look, this wasn't what they were expecting when they anchored onto Beast-Yeast. A temple untouched by the wild nature. No one can deny it's strangeness, not you either, this finding was easy..too easy. You although can't do much now but hope everything goes well.

Dark Cacao's brows crease together. not swayed by Cloud Haetae's airy demeanour. "You said you had a master. Take us to them at once."

Cloud Haetae Cookie crosses his arms in offence. "Excuse me, put your sword away first!"

"Stop beating around the bush and take us to your master!" Crunchy Chip Cookie demands.

"Hmph...I'm a Haetae from a fine lineage, I'll have you know..."

You rub your face impatiently. This isn't going anywhere. You push yourself to the front and lower Dark Cacao's blade with your hand, whispering a swift reassurance to the king and kneeling down to Cloud Haetae's level of height. The Haetae blinks, watching you curiously as you offer him a soft smile. "Cloud Haetae Cookie, we are travellers wanting to find our way around the temple would you mind helping us?"

The best tactic you can concoct is this. Waltzing through the Pagoda by yourselves may bring about more risks than not and it may expose more of yourself than preferred. If there's one thing you cannot afford in these set of circumstances it's blowing your cover, you'd manage if some Cookies found out. Most wouldn't bat an eye to anything other than your Souljam. 

But if the Beasts found out...you really don't want to image the events. 

Dealing with Shadow Milk Cookie's maniacal advances were more than a implication to your tiring fate. You'd spare yourself the headache. Enough that they are going after the ancients as it, you can still protect them under the shroud a normal Cookie simply protecting their friend. You'd spare yourself the headache. 

"Travellers?..." Cloud Haetae Cookie looks at you, expression blank. Their eyes examine you head to toe for a few minutes, then brightens suddenly. "Alright! I'll take you to see my master at the Grand Temple immediately!

You stand up and Cloud Haetae motion for everyone to come along.

Okayyy...that worked. You conclude.

The walk is a considerable distance, depended on the routes you take, the journey to the Grand Temple is different, the course Cloud Haetae Cookie is setting you on, is the longest.

The little Haetae is chatting up a storm, no one can fluently keep up with the abundance in which they talk, mostly about what you all see. The gates adorned the bronze, the streams of gold that flow along the bridges of the Pagoda and the budding Siu Mai flowers planted everywhere.

They're a kid at heart, carefree topics are meant to come at ease, therefore none of you actually interjects for a long while. But soon, the Dark Cacao King stirs the discussion.

"Pray tell, what is the name of your master?" He asks, and Cloud Haetae looks up from where they are skipping over the creases in the tiles.

Oh? You're one curious Cookie, aren't you? Cloud Haetae Cookie claps enthusiastically. "My master is the one named Mystic Flour Cookie!"

So she too had taken up another name, much like Shadow Milk Cookie. Titles alone were bestowed upon you all when you were baked, it meant serve as aid in fulfilling your lives missions. To discard that was to take back autonomy none of you were given, you to did that, be it for different reasons.

It's quite ironic how they adapted new identities and cast away who they once were, yet when it comes to you, they refuse to accept that you have done the same.

Why can't they just let go?

"And when was your master baked? I mean... how long has she existed on this land?"

Cloud Haetae shakes their head. "No one knows, My Lord. That's how long it's been." They lift their hands painting a descriptive picture from their words.

"Back when the land was completely barren, she welcomed any Cookie with the will to go on living. She fought to provide a better life for those Cookies!"

You hack behind the group, looking out over the temple, the drained leaves from the evergreen trees blows quietly, Mandu buds blossom along the creeks. To see this place in it's entirety is bittersweet to say the least. You once swore to yourself you'd never come back here, if not for safety than for the sake of your bleeding heart.

...You have a feeling you'll be taking back a lot more things you promised yourself the upcoming days.

with that thought, you join back into the conversation, standing next to Crunchy Chip Cookie as Cloud Haetae Cookie's story reaches it's climax.

"But all of a sudden, even more Cookies started showing up! Please grant my wish! Please save me! They'd say."

You despise how your heart wrenches at the reminder.

"Eventually, it all became too much for her." Cloud Haetae Cookie looks woeful, for the first time since you all entered the Pagoda. "She became the Leavened One, wrapping herself in a cocoon and focusing on her powers so that she may benefit all Cookies and grant their every wish."

She had always had a soft heart, perhaps too soft. The two of you were much alike in that.

Wanting to grant every Cookie's wish is not an easy feat, yet she was always so determined in her intent. Never waning from what she deemed was the best for Cookiekind. You had always admired her for that....and worried. Caring too much can eventually leads to caring too little.

Giving too much too fast, in extreme excess can make Cookies see their wants as mandatory, grow greedy even violent when their demands aren't met. You suppose this is the outcome.

Crunchy Chip Cookie furrows at the odd account of events. "What?! She wrapped herself in a cocoon? That sounds kinda creepy!"

You elbow him, sending him a sharp look.

"Ow, I'm just saying!" He defends.

Dark Cacao Cookie seems to ponder a moment. "And what happened to this... cocoon?"

"Follow me and you shall learn the truth, My Lord. Now then, let's keep going!"

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Previous | Next.

Hii! How was this chapter? Do tell me your thoughts! I read every comment and they motivate me tons <3 I hope I didn't make Mystic Flour too out-of character during her mid corruption. I tried to experiment with that descent into apathy a bit. And not too mention Shadow Milk being a little good-for-nothing snitch...Poor Reader Cookie.

-Faceless

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[r1poffmyface]

「The Sixth Redemption」

Yandere Beast Cookies x Reader part 10

Previous | Next. Wordcount: 4.5k

I thought you thought of me better, someone you couldn't lose

Please leave comments and your thoughts on the chapter, they motivate me lots! Thank you<3

An unknowable amount of time passes.

Enough time for the narrow corridor to swell in footsteps and worried murmurs from dark cacao warriors awaiting the decree of their king. Enough time for you to start fidgeting, for your hands to tug at the seams of your cloak.

You've never done well in large crowds. Whispers you can't untangle, flashing glances you can't put name on. They mean no harm - You know that. Word spread fast, what you pulled was not necessarily a run-of-the-mill spell any Cookie could conjure up. It still has you feeling queasy, you distribute your weight from one foot to the other like you're standing on needles.

More warriors trickle in, another set of whispers flock in your hearing range. It's the final drop in the bucket that threatens to overflow.

You careful wring yourself through the assembly, bidding hurried apologies with every nudge and shove. I need to get out of here.

The hall gets emptier the longer you trudge down it, the voices mush into buzzing, then deplete entirely.

You have no designated destination in mind, you just walk, the walls are jagged, fortified by pillars of bittersweet stone and the air smells of cacao. You pass structures meant to prioritise safety over all. Living in constant defence takes a lot of conviction, when one has something to protect it can beat close to all odds. The Dark Cacao Kingdom is the leading example of that virtue.

An example that life endures through hardships, over and over again.

Eventually, you reach the end of the hall, no one is here, leaving you to stand in undisturbed in it's open vicinity.

The wind blow cold through a window to your left. Snowflakes trickle in and land near the windowsill.

This view permits a decent outlook onto the dark waters of the Licorice Sea. It's currents look much more amiable than when you flew over them this morning. —Scratch that, they look more calmer than they've ever been. Odd. Your gaze narrows as you near the window.

You test your conjecture by putting your palm out, there's a slight breeze. An utter contradiction to the blizzard that occurred no more than an hour ago.

You pull your hand back. How could the weather have turned over so quickly? You ruminate, even though you know the answer to the question and a thousand new ones form as consequence.

Two days, is that truly all it took?

You have little to no estimate what the next line of action will be, you have a guess. A puny, macabre guess. That all of this, the plague, the calming sea, is all a ploy. A machination with sole aim to lure in Dark Cacao Cookie. And it's going to work, because the Dark Cacao Kingdom is worth everything to him.

A part of you wants to dissuade him from that path, implore him to stay far away from Beast-Yeast. But that alternative would come at the cost of his denizens' lives. You know he would never make that choice.

You move away from the window and across the corridor.

There's a sliding door in the middle, you open it, and inside is a small room, there's a low table and put away weapons. you blink, fatigue pounds behind your eyes. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to take a quick rest.

You pad into the room, with a shift, the door slides close.

Your chest is swarming with a storm, much like the one that was outside. Your emotions are loud, frenzied and insufferable. They always are. Nothing brings a salve to your thoughts or the grace of complete tranquillity.

You think back to the patient and their words.

Your soul is so ridden with anger.

A joyless smile creeps onto your lips.

It always comes back to that persistent nagging itch of anger doesn't it? It scorches your soul, it simmers in your throat and at the tip of your tongue. There's never a moment where you're free from the unfathomable rage inside you. You hug the coat given by Dark Cacao Cookie closer and go to sit down against a wall.

You had once thought that if you just carry through with kindness, if you give without thought of return. if you extend an hand to those most unlikeliest to get one. Then surely fate would give you kindness in return. Those were the rose-tainted hopes of your younger days 

Who would've thought that fate would spit it all back at you? You were naive beyond measure. That is one thing those Cookies were right about.

Tiredness starts to drape over your vision. 

You wake up believing your lungs intent to burst from your chest with the severity of your coughing. 

You rise unceremoniously upright. Your bed slumps, creaking too loudly. Not this again. Not —again. You plead.

Muddy light fractures between the recesses of glass. It's night, the sky is blighted with red so ferment it reminds you of jam. Your form drowns in its crimson hue as you attempt to gain back control of your posture. It doesn't work. A sweet taste crawls it's way up your throat and your coughs reduce to miserable spurts. It's saccharine, too gooey, and matching the colour painting the sky. You desperately reach for the flask of water you know you always keep by your nightstand.

You grasp it, uncork it and— choke it back up — almost like you're body is rejecting the sustenance. You try another gulp, yielding the exact same aftermath.

The bottle falls out of your hold and you leap to your feet, more jam spewing from your lips meanwhile.

Curse it all, curse it all, curse it all.—

You can barely hold together your sense of balance, using the door as feeble anchorage only does so much. You swing it open, it hits the wall with a booming echo and you stumble out into the hall.

the area is vacant, there's no ensemble of melodious giggles, or scents of flowers. There's a stagnant stench of doom, overgrown moss, shattered windows and crumbling pillars. The whole place seemingly frozen in a state of woe.

You spit out thick tar, drops of red stain your robes. You swipe your sleeves over your mouth. Your breathing is ragged, exhilarating in torn bits. Terror mounts up in your chest and hysteria starts to set in. You reach for the nearest wall to leverage yourself.

Amidst the tempest of your plight. A wallowing sound dominants through the silence.

You weakly look down the decaying hall. Is that someone...crying?

It's coming from the nave of the Cathedral and without hesitation, you move to the sound with the guidance of the structure of the wall.

Your steps gets swallow up in the quiet. In your dough you know what you're approaching, what's waiting in the heart of your dominion. So why is it you move forward anyway?

A deep-rooted concern maybe.

Just as your inhibition warned, there's a...Cookie, kneeling down onto the marble floor, hands cradling their face and sobs escaping them.

Your mouth open and parts attempting to articulate a sentence, a word, a sound, anything. Strawberry jam wets your lips. You initiate a few footsteps toward the Cookie. They strike a chord of familiarity in you. You stop. That's one of the Cookie who ambushed my cathedral...But they're...I

Wake up, wake up, I need to wake up... Of course your desperate mantra does nothing to derail the semi-reality unfolding in front of you.

You swallow, jam flooding down your windpipe. Your stance is as unsteady as your mind. "Are you...are you alright?..."

The Cookie's cries ceases abruptly. There's an suspended time pass where neither of you say a thing. Then they start up again, not as vigorously as before. The weeping doesn't fail to make you even more nauseated, this must be the equivalent to purgatory. Why won't you wake up already??

"Merciful one....Priest of Redemption..." They whisper.

"Why...Why did you do it?"

Their eyes snap up at you, their gaze completely empty compared to their intonation, they're covered in...Jam? Wait...since when was the floor soaked in jam? You don't answer the question presented to you. That twists the Cookie's face into fury.

"You were supposed to embody forgiveness, so why did you do it?!" They shriek. You notice their dough is cracking, breaking. Their voice doing the same. You shake your head, taking a step back. "I...I didn't mean to...I'm sorry..."

"No you're not!" Another Cookie...phantom? snarls to your left, their body more broken than the first. "If you were truly sorry, you wouldn't have DONE IT!..."

Tears wells under your eyes, It's as cloying as the jam spilling from your mouth. You struggle to maintain your sight. It's then something grabs hold of your leg. You met eyes with another Cookie, half their face completely unrecognisable. Their words are skewed and languid.

"You abandoned your virtue..."

Your eyes run water floods now. You stagger back, there's so many cookies on the ground, all glaring at you with hatred.

Your inflexion shakes. "....i'm sorry..I'm so sorry...please forgive me."

There's an cackle.

"The Cookie of Forgiveness begging for forgiveness?"

Another outcry behind you, they rip at the end seam of your apparel.

"How are you any different from them?!"

"You're nothing but an omen of doom, everywhere you go you bring devastation with you!"

You can't see anything past the thick layer of jam flooding your vision. The pain you feel is indiscernible to anything you've ever endured. You wipe your eyes roughly. The ruptured rose-windows allows a glimpse at your state. You abhor what you see.

You robes are tattered, filthy and drenched in jam, your hair is dishevelled and matted. There's wide cracks all over your body as well as streams of jam running down your cheeks and chin. Your eyes are jamshot and slit...and the star-shaped jewel on your chest...your Souljam...

Is upside down.

"You're a vile demon, a Beast! Accept it!"

You shake your head at your reflection, "No no...I'm not.." You whirl around, wretchedness heavy in your voice. You cover your mouth, jam rasps out of your mouth. "Please I'm...i'm sorry, I truly am..." You break down, your demeanour not different from an wounded animal before the slaughter.

The wraiths cackle, there's no humour in them, just hollow cruelty. You put your hands to your ears, vainlessly wanting to block out the noise that only appears to accelerate the more you attempt to shun it. There's a tug at your attire to your left, at your shoulder, your foot. The phantoms demanding your attention to your sins.

"I never wanted to hurt anyone... I'm sorry! Please stop!" They don't. You squeeze your eyes shut.

All of the sudden, there's light.

Warm, comforting light.

It shines onto you, onto everything, it washes away everything and you feel someone gently cup your face in their hands. Your eyes open slowly, incredulously.

What stands in front of you, or rather whom, is you. No...it looks like you, your primordial form, prior to your Souljam damaging, to your semi-corruption, but more, translucent. They smile at you with tenderness. their lips open to speak, voice softer than the petals of flowers. "My dear Priest..."

Your eyes expand. There's only one Cookie who...no. It can't be.

"Light of...forgiveness?" You murmur agape.

The light says nothing, it wraps its arms around your shoulders in an gentle embrace. Your shoulders shake, your being only holding up because of the manifestation embracing you.

"...Please do not forgo the light that is within you." Your voice implores. The hold doesn't tighten, or suffocate you, it's soft and considerate. "No matter the perils that await you..."

"And then, your virtue shall be whole again."

The next time you wake up, you do so shuddering, as though you'd been thrown into the depths of the deepest ocean. The air you breathe is cold. Your heart palpitating as though it wants to break from the cavity of your chest and panic rules over your mind, anticipating to awake back in that place...

But you don't.

You're back in the compact room of weapons and fermented scents. Your tunnel-vision fades, the tremors beneath your dough do not. They're heavy, rushing through your entire body in shocks. You clench your hands shut and your eyes. an inhale, and an exhale. You push yourself to your feet.

A nightmare.

Again.

How many times have you tried to acquire a good night's rest, only to be dragged into the hell of your own imagination? Forced to be eyewitness to memories meant to perish into the back of your mind?...

You've lost count. the perpetual exhaustion has haunted you for days, yet denies you the respite of its erasure. You drag your hands over your face. Your lack of shuteye is not what irks your nerves now, though.

Anger jerks at your movements as you tug off the necklace at your neck with more force than needed.

You glower down at the accursed gem, it can be a trick of your eye, but you swear it's glowing, just a tad —it's enough to prove it's liability. It fuels your indignation.

"Thousand of years, nothing...why now?" You interrogate sharply.

There's no answer, no pulse or quick glow. Your hold tightens around the rock.

"After everything..." Your voice trembles. "Why now?"

It never answered before. It never answered when the Virtues ceased to resonate. It never answered when the Cookies labelled you a demon and chanted for your demise, when you lost everything, when you pleading for guidance to a future you no longer could see. It remained still when you split it's essence to pieces and hid them away in the depths of the your old friends' domains —so that no one with a value for their own life would dare search them out, not even yourself.

So what has spurred it's will to now come forth? Is it because they have awoken?

"...Please do not forgo the light that is within you, no matter the perils that await you..."

You scoff lightly. "You remain as vague as ever huh?" You line your sights with the white shrouded landcape outside.

"...The evil polluting in the air." You whisper. "I suppose you feel it too."

Footsteps traverse down the hall, two, maybe three. There's voices, and they stop at your door. Your breath hitches, your limbs lock into place, and your brain is held captive by alarm. You brace yourself for the door to violently open and shudder through the entire room.

There's a knock and the door slides wide.

"Reader Cookie?"

You move your necklace just out of their eyesight before turning around. There stands Caramel Arrow Cookie, with two other Cookies in tow. Crunchy Chip Cookie should you remember right. The watcher coughs before speaking next.

"His Majesty has announced an expedition to Beast-yeast."

...

And you're back.

Back in the land barren of everyday Cookie populace, void of everything that can be recounted in by the ordinary mind.

"We've finally made it to Beast-Yeast!" Caramel Arrow Cookie exclaims.

The sail over the Liorice Sea was as calm as you expected, the ship anchored southwest, this part of Beast-Yeast is familiarised by dense forests, some groves older than Kingdoms in Crispia themselves. Towering trees crowd together, their canopy block off sun rays and drap the setting in a mundane but soothing colour palette, by the moon's ascension, it's light would dance with the embers of fireflies and glowing flowers.

You know all of these things, they're committed into the core of your soul, like the roots that nurture the earth you walk on. Try as you might, you'll never forget this place.

You warily glance into the thick forest, expecting something to reveal itself from within. This crossroad you're on is the intersection between your domain and...hers.

Dark Cacao stops in his tracks, assessing the mist that creeps along the edges of the trail. "Hmm, that scent of raw flour in the air...the flour fog is thick in this area."

"Won't we be infected with the Pale Ailment if we come in contact with the fog...?" A Dark Cacao warrior comments worryingly. Your eyes travel back onto the road. It's been long since this area was so dense with fog. You answer the Dark Cacao warrior's question listlessly. "We'll be fine as long as we're not exposed to it for a long period of time."

The Dark Cacao warrior hesitates at your reassurance, not taking his eye off the mist. "Alright..."

After a moment of still contemplation, Dark Cacao Cookie begins handing out a cacao tablet. "Let's share this cacao tablet.

Our heads must remain clear, even in the fog."

The tablet passes around from Cookie to Cookie, until the entire army of warriors as gotten a piece. You pass it up with a polite head shake. At the odds of this mist, you simply don't find yourself a priority to involve. You've dealt with these circumstances before, those less fortunate to have done so, deserves the reserve more.

At your downturn, Dark Cacao Cookie speaks up. "We do not know what dangers await us here, it's important to stay heedful, Reader Cookie..."

You nod. "I will, do not worry about me."

"...Very well."

The group finishes the Cacao tablet, although with reluctance.

"EUAAAAGH!!! SO BITTER!!! What on Earthbread is this made of?!

Not even the cacao nibs I first ate as a child were this bad!"

"I suppose they made it super bitter so that we'd come to our senses..."

"Mmm, that was good. You're all so- HIC! weak." Crunchy Chip Cookie rebuts then tries offering you some with a sour mien, to which you refuse with a snicker.

The laughter ends, when the horizon eclipses in a pale light, it washes out the road ahead and it takes some seconds for everyone to notice it's nearing proximity. A overcasting wave of flour is descending upon you like a rising tide.

"Your Majesty, up ahead! The white fog is coming right at us like a huge wave!" Caramel Arrow Cookies shouts.

Your eyes widen and you shield your face as it's maw swallows the environment, it devours shapes, voices, colours and throws you into a featureless void. A callout from Dark Cacao Cookie resounds as a last wisp of sound.

"Everyone, stay alert and do not lose your way!"

Then it goes quiet.

You blink and lower your arms. You look around. You're in the depths of this fog...and yet any sense of urgency is lost on you. You do not hear anyone anymore.

You thought your brain would run through all steps needed to manage this scenario. You've dealt with these circumstances before, so why isn't your mind matching the instincts your body scream at you to undertake? Your gaze lowers. This is familiar... Memories of eons ago suddenly rush forward without warning. How many times did you willingly walk into this mist, just for a thin chance that you would find what...who, you were looking for?

Tailing a monster of worry, hoping, praying she was unharmed...just to find out all times you aimlessly wandered this field of white for hours, it was an intentional doing?

If those months of helplessness and fear would have been composed into a play, then you would have been deemed the biggest fool of them all. A lesson for generations to come just like all other folktales.

If you destroy yourself piece by piece for others, then you will be left with nothing.

It's pitiful isn't it?

You did just that and now you're left with a broken shell of yourself, you can't bear to see...

Did it ever have a point?

Nothing you do will ever be enough, will it?

The Cookies even saw it fit to crumble you...would anyone ever had known you perished? Or would your existence have vanished the same as the tales of Virtues who once brought paradise to Cookiekind?

Why did you ever bother?

All your efforts were ultimately meaninglessness.

You never deserved to be an emissary.

YOU NEVER DESERVED TO-

"Reader Cookie!"

You snap out of your daze. Before you stand Caramel Arrow Cookie, Crunchy Chip Cookie and Dark Cacao Cookie. At least you think so, their presences are so hazy you can only make out their silhouettes.

"We have been calling you for ages, come on, we need to get out of this fog!" The first watcher informs you, her expression is concerned...How long were they calling you? You don't see the other Dark Cacao Warriors, they must have all been lost the fog...this is not good.

"We've faced a big setback so soon!" You hear one of the warriors grumble.

"The thick fog all but swallowed up our Dark Cacao Warriors...!" Another shouts.

Dark Cacao's voice breaks through the uncertainty like a blade. "They will be close by. So do not worry—we will find them once the fog settles."

You move on, and the mist soon disappears, but so to, does any sign of the other warriors.

"We have ventured a considerable distance." Dark Cacao Cookie remarks. You all stop to retain your breathing. Your eyes move up to the overarching canopy, an aromatic smell wafts through the air...It's nostalgic.

Crunchy Chips grimaces at the specific scent. "There's something up ahead! It almost smells like... incense?"

Out from the greenery, a monument sticks out, a roof with a lustrous hue of gold. it's burnished tiles glimmer in the open sky. You tongue gets tied in your mouth. The Ivory Pagoda was only a few meters away. Your feet cement to the ground, and once more your body refuses to listen to what your mind says. The minor sight of the temple saps out your readiness.

"That pointy roof... It's a massive temple!"

"A temple in perfect condition amidst the wilderness of Beast-Yeast...?

How peculiar..." Dark Cacao ruminates "A temple of this size must have been built by someone. I must meet whoever this is."

The history of Beast-Yeast is hard to come by, there weren't many left alive to carry on it's tale.

You'd much rather never think about that interval in your life again. Unfortunately that too, has been proven wishful thinking. These last few days have unlocked sentiments you never thought to confront, you never thought existed to begin with.

Anger, guilt, panic.

All of these construct into an cacophony so shrill any rationale drowns out.

"Reader Cookie." You look to the others, they have begun to move toward the temple, toward the gold-bronze stairs just up ahead. While you stand in the muck, cold shivers cursing down your body. Maybe you shouldn't have left that coat on the ship. Dark cacao Cookie's face is steady as ever, yet it's remedied by his words.

"Reader Cookie, are you alright?"

You're not. is what you want to say. You swallow. You must make for a concerning view right now. You're not ready. You're not prepared. You're really, really not.

"Yes." You mutter, you don't delude yourself into thinking your voice sounds that confident, you force your body to react. "Let's go on."

The holder of Resolution, watches you a bit longer. "That we shall." He eventually responds.

Laughter is heard just as you all prepare to ascend the wide flight of stairs. And coming to block you are the four Dumpling Kings. Their purpose served to protect the entrance of the pagoda from unlawful intruders.

"Whathe!?-" Crunchy Chip Cookie jumps.

The Dumpling Kings hold up their respective item as their voices boom around you.

"I am the Meat Dumpling King of the East! I bless good Cookies and punish the bad!"

"I am the Shrimp Dumpling King of the West! My breath becomes the wind and blows away all evil spirits!"

"I am the Spicy Dumpling King of the South! My armor is impenetrable, and I bring all things to life!"

"I am the Chives Dumpling King of the North! I became a light for Cookies wandering in the dark!"

Dark Cacao Cookie bring up his sword in a defensive position. "Move out of my way. There is someone we must meet inside the temple."

"Ha ha ha! How dare you attempt to enter the temple,

while so tainted with the convictions of the beyond?!"

One of the Dumpling king points to both His Majesty and you.

"Far I have seen, but never ones with such a heavy hearts!"

You frown at that.

"If you wish to enter, you must first wash yourself clean of all worldly concerns!"

"Put aside the anguish that troubles your mind!"

Dark Cacao Cookie draws out his blade to point it at the Dumpling Kings. "I have no time for idle chatter! If you insist on standing in my way, meet my sword!"

Crunchy Chip Cookie and Caramel Arrow Cookie steady themselves, you reach into your cloak, a fight was the only path here on out. It doesn't sway the Dumpling Kings, in contrast, they laugh, unimpressed by the bravado.

"He he he he! Six measly Cookies face the Four Dumpling Kings!

Will you succeed in passing the Heavenly Gate, I wonder?"

"Do your best!"

You all enter the temple victorious. The Dumpling Kings having vanished in mist after admitting defeat.

During the battle however, it was your turn to be concerned, it was impossible to miss, Dark Cacao Cookie's sword rattled, shook...no it wasn't the sword...it was his Souljam. Dark Cacao Cookie dismissed it upon asked, but you saw it troubled his mind. You fear the implications that's conjuring inside you.

A sickness overtakes you as you walk into the vast courtyard of the temple. The emptiness is imposing, every sound, even footsteps flatline, you can't help but feel like an intruder in this undisturbed realm. It hasn't changed, at all. Had someone interwoven your memories with reality, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Caramel Arrow stares in awe at the monochrome architecture. "It doesn't feel real... to see a temple where we thought nothing would be." She murmers.

"It feels like we're in a dream...the air is so humid..." A Dark Cacao warrior marvels.

"Did we all come here to stand around in wonder?!" Crunchy Chip Cookie shouts. "Hello?! Anyone here?!"

"Cream Wolves! Over there, GO!"

"Shh! Crunchy Chip Cookie! Silence your wolves! There's no need to cause a fuss, is there?!"

You stare on amused as Crunchy Chip Cookie and Caramel Arrow Cookie bicker amongst each other, you step in once you figure they're seeing no end to their quarrel.

"Okay, stop it you two." You break it off, holding in your laugh.

"He he he... La la la!"

You stop. That voice...could it be?

The others catch on and you approach the sound carefully. Perched on a set of small stairs, is a small Haetae, gleefully singing to himself. Yellow eyes and claws. Your eyes widen. Cloud Haetae Cookie?...

"Back in the day, Cookies would line up for miles just to see my master! But now, there's not a single Cookie here... Oh well! I'll keep myself entertained!" He lulls, skipping down the stairs.

Dark Cacao Cookie points his blade at the Haetae. "You. Who... are you?"

Cloud Haetae's eyes go wide as plates. "Ah! What are you doing, pointing your sword at me?!"

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

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How was it? :D I'd love your thoughts, they motivate me a ton thank you!! <3

-Faceless

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[r1poffmyface]

「The Sixth Redemption」

Yandere Beast Cookies x Reader part 9 | Act III The Awakening of White Apathy

Previous | Next. Wordcount: 3,7k

This world is a cruel place and we're here only to lose.

Please leave comments and your thoughts on the chapter, they motivate me lots! Thank you<3

The snowstorms of the Dark Cacao Kingdom were merciless in their severity.

You flounder through the weather; it's biting cold shredding through your powdery wings like blades, flying is getting increasingly more difficult as you near the shoreline. The waves below rumble, crashing at rocks, then grumble back to whence they came.

The fury of these blizzards is not to be taken lightly. Therefore, you steer your course down, to the ground; magic erupts, and your wings fold in for arms and legs.

Your foothold staggers in the deep snow. You opt for simply doing the rest of the journey on foot.

The relentless wind tears at your cloak, and you shelter your face as your exhales materialise into dewdrops before you. Your feet drag through the thick blanket of white. The span of your vision is not far, but you've journeyed enough to know the approximate whereabouts of your destination.

I Shouldn't be that far from the citadel.

It took around the whole night's cycle to reach Crispia. You watched the moon rest at its summit. Its pale glow coaxing you into complacency, you shunned it. Scorned the lethargy that came over you and tugged at your movements. You can't rest.

The glimpse of dark pillars is on the horizon. You push on.

You haven't been able to rest, despite Pure Vanilla Cookie's urgency that you do. Every time you try, you're brought back. Jam-stained floors, crumbs and screams of agony.

 Every.

Single.

Time. 

You've come to the conclusion that it must be your retribution. Your dues for deserting Cookie life. For those whose lives you took, that can never be returned. It doesn't matter if they struck first; slaughter on that scale should've never been the solution.

Your steps reach the dark stones of the bridge crossing the Dark Cacao Citadel. I shouldn't be thinking about this now.

The kingdom's towering presence enshrouds you; diamond-carved symbols are on the cavernous doors. You flex your shoulders. Taking out a letter with a matching crest. Pure Vanilla had said they know you were coming...they know who you are.

The paper crinkles as you fold it open.

My dear friend, I hope this frantically written letter reaches you as soon as possible. Please forgive me for any incoherence, for there is simply so much I have to tell you about.

The handwriting is elegant and refined without blemishes or ink spots, its edges soft like the hands that wrote it.

I can't believe I am actually writing this...But I met White Lily Cookie here!"

Luckily, enough of the Light of Freedom remained for White Lily Cookie to return to her true self...

I wish this message only had good news, however...Dark Cacao Cookie, ancient demons called Beast Cookies roam these lands. We were all shocked to learn that these Beast Cookies were the first owners of the Soul Jam! 

I know it's hard to believe, but it seems that our Soul Jams are connected to the power of these Beast Cookies. Now that they have awoken, they will attack us to reclaim their lost Soul Jams. 

Dark Enchantress Cookie plans to use this to her advantage to start another war. At this rate, our Soul Jams, our Kingdoms...even our beloved friends will all be in great danger."

Your eyes roam over each paragraph with fervour, every word burning into your mind like a permanent stamp.

But it appears we have an advantage on our side...

Dark Cacao Cookie, that Cookie we encountered when we received our Souljams, the mysterious figure that protected us during our fight with Dark Enchantress Cookie. The Priest of Redemption, It's Reader Cookie!

We have faced a lot of new revelations to ponder on, but from what I can understand, Reader Cookie used to know the Beasts back when they were still Virtues and they witnessed them turn to darkness...unfortunately we have also learned that these Beasts hold, what I can only describe as an obsession toward Reader Cookie...

Despite this, they have made it clear they wish to help us stop the Beasts and will be on their way to Crispia by the time you receive this letter.

I'm sure you and the others, have a lot to ask them, yet I must ask you to please regard them with care.

Pure Vanilla Cookie...You roll the letter back up, delicately pressing the insignia back into place.

Then, with a flick of your hand, your form alters, your hair changes length, colours coat over the other, your eyes smear, and so does your dough.

The cracks are still there. they etch into your neck, the sides of your face; they creep down your arms to your hands. Thanks to Pure Vanilla Cookie and White Lily Cookie's help, the pain is dulled, luckily. Persisting only as an ache under wraps of fresh bandages.

It's bearable. You tell yourself. You've suffered worse.

Now you wear the mantle as Reader Cookie again; had it been up to you, you would dispose of the last remnants of the Virtue of Redemption. Let it perish in the soil as it takes its last pitiful breath.

No matter. That won't happen. In a long, long while, that is.

You pound on the heavy doors; the wind nips frostbite on your hands. There's a pause, the rustling of footsteps, multiple. The entrance cracks, mechanisms whirling to life.

The opening reveals Dark Cacao warriors, two of them. They vigilantly assess your presence. You can't blame them; heed is of the utmost importance in this land where the Licorice Sea spits and brings forth creatures from the deepest depths.

"State your purpose." One of them demands, a cautious one. You hesitate. A feeling churns in you. Déjà vu. It hooks into you and pulls, oxygen withdrawing from your lungs in a kick. 

Get a grip.

You suck in a hasty breath. The chill pricks your throat. "...I'm here to see His Majesty Dark Cacao Cookie; is he here?" It's unbelievable how such a simple phrase can stir unrest in you.

Maybe you're not that sane after all.

The two warriors appear jittery, you note. The grip on their weapons fastens. Posture unsure. Could something have happened? They stare at you in contemplation. A passing recognition seems to flourish. The swift of the two parts his mouth.

"ah, I remember! We were told to expect you by Caramel Arrow Cookie!" He points out.

Caramel Arrow Cookie, the first watcher of the Dark Cacao Kingdom, forever loyal to His Majesty, be it in exile or on the front lines.

The other warrior coughs. "We will bring you to her."

"New patients have arrived!" A nurse informs, rushing back and forth with logs of paper, scribbling down hasty notes.

You don't know what you expected.

You stand near the threshold with the two Cacao warriors that escorted you. 

This was by far the one outcome your brain had failed to pore over. Two days had gone by, three, should you count the travel here. So how could it have gotten to this horrific impact in that small bout of time? Who could have possibly inflicted this devastation so unrestrained, so... fast?  How, how, how, how? 

That and more swirls your mind like a phantom scream. Deep down you know you are enquiring a question you know the answer to. Yet that doesn't stop denial from veiling your perception.

Cookies lay in beds, fever-ridden. Their dough plagued with a whiteness almost ghastly. They were coughing endlessly, flour ripping from their raspy throats. 

Healers stumble past the beds in a frenzy, crushing herbs into fine residue and feeding barely conscious patients. There was a stench in the air. It loitered rancidly... like...rotting wheat flour, no one seemed to be burdened by the smell but you. It's familiar.

Dreadfully familiar.

This disease...

You'd seen it before. Years, years ago.  

Whole villages afflicted with it, You'd cradled tear-eyed children in pain, their broken pleas between sobs and feverish pants beseeching their only wish, to be saved. You'd held the hands of elders, their aged faces serene as they accepted a end far, far too cruel to be fair. You'd lulled lullabies of rivier springs, and glowing dawns to Cookies unknowingly taking their last breath. You tried with the entirety of your might stop it. But while you could pacify the suffering of the sick, it was only a matter before it spread to other regions, other villages and the cycle began anew.

It was like a curse, a force to be reckoned with, you had come to the realisation much too late, the reason as to why you couldn't exterminate the sickness was because it's source came from a power rivalling your own.

"Reader Cookie." The voice that breaks your thoughts is as steady as hardened caramel.

You look to the side to the caller. A Cookie with brown dough, hair black, swirling with warm chocolate streaks. She holds herself with a unwavering dedication even as her eyes soften in friendliness. 

"It's good to see you again." 

You nod, returning the smile. While the occasion doesn't call for any idle chatter, she's still a trusted acquaintance. "It's good to see you too, Caramel Arrow Cookie."

Her molten brown eyes drop discretely to the cracks lining your jaw. But just as quickly does she stare back into the infirmary with sombreness. "I was told by His Majesty you'd come, he's currently away, I didn't expect the Kingdom to be in this state in mere days..."

Neither did you.

You keep yourself composed to the best of your restraint. Your hand twitches. "I see..."

A healer rushes by and Caramel Arrow Cookie interjects their path. Her voice betrays a faint twinge of nervousness. "What's the status of the treatments?"

"We're doing the best we can, but...The Pale Ailment is simply spreading too fast!" The healer laments, scrambling to put down their equipment and tend to a patient who awakens in a fit of violent coughing.

The sick Cookie begins mumbling disjointed desperation under their breath. "I see it now, a world of pure white....Soft and radiant... and breathtakingly beautiful...This is not our time...We must return to flour...From which we once came...!"

"Is all this nonsense a symptom of The Pale Ailment as well?" Caramel Arrow Cookie asks dumbfounded.

A healer who stops in their tracks answers her. "Yes, it would seem so."

"Most of it sounds like gibberish, but it all comes down to the same thing. That we must return to flour...But please, pay it no mind. Everyone is delirious with fever, they have no idea what they're saying."

To be reduced to a shell, delirious and fatigued, it's a state no Cookie should undergo. This maltreatment of life. It makes you sick. You barely comprehend your surroundings, noise loses it's clarity, trampled under the haze of your thoughts. You hear Caramel Arrow's voice, she speaks of the absurdity of it all and the need to inform Dark Cacao Cookie.

You don't hear the footsteps that go past you — or the exchange of talk happening beyond the wooden structure of the door.

The door creaks and a Cookie steps in. Armour clicking with a simple motion. You perk up at the voice that enquires one of the healers

"...Are you certain that this is due to the Flour Storm that has blown over from Beast-Yeast?"

Your eyes snap to new arrival.

That Cookie, Dark Cacao Cookie in the dough.

He's just as your memory recalls. Obsidian hair that cascades down like the crashing waves of the Licorice Sea and woven with a streak of winter. His dough is a rich brown. His eyes were of the darkest violet. As though someone had sculpted the nightfall into his gaze. He glances at you for a second, lingering for a moment and then back at the responding healer.

"Yes, Your Majesty! A few days ago, a fine white mist enveloped the entirety of the Kingdom...Soon after, we started getting patients...The white spreading from the tips of their dough." The healer motions into room carefully at the seemingly endless rows of patients.

"And as you can see, Your Majesty...They're coughing up flour as well."

Dark Cacao Cookie kneels down, his sword serving a leverage to his stance. Resting on it's hilt is a diamond like gem. It's purple shade gleams in the brittle winter light shining through the windows. Your eyes zero in on it. Is it glowing?

The king furrows his brows. an epiphany striking him. "This is indeed... flour. But... how...?"

A patient closest to him mumbles pleas while barely hoisting themselves up by their arms. "Just let the flour take over....I just want it to be over..." The cookie coughs. "So powdery...Please make it stop."

You catch it and a new sense of anger washes over you. How can anyone be this cruel? Every life taken so unfairly was because of-

"Excuse me?" Dark Cacao Cookie regards the Cookie, the healers growing tense at the proximity to the sick.

"Please, Your Majesty!"

"Don't get too close to the patients!"

Dark Cacao holds his hand up. "It is fine. Worry not. I must hear what this fellow is saying."

The patient's unfocused gaze comes onto him, they opens and shuts their mouth, as though their throat too dry to formulate words, you hide your mouth beneath the palm of your hand, the pungency in the air grows suffocating.

"Your Majesty, Dark Cacao Cookie..."

"All this time, we've worn black clothes, eaten black foods, and been surrounded by black walls...This Kingdom of ours is so cold, barren, and draining...But I have found a way out of this suffering..."

Dark Cacao Cookie Steadies himself. "Tell me the way, then."

The patient smiles, if it can be deemed such, it's hollow, devoid of any emotion that would associate itself with the gesture. Yet the Cookie's voice is almost reverent. "We must become flour once more, Your Majesty. The white radiance is free and light... It will liberate us...I shall return to flour. Free me from this painfully stiff dough...!"

You can't stand watch no longer. To be able to sense doom but be unable to do anything to save them from their fates. Magic slips up from the ground, accumulating into your hands, Your Souljam flickers brightly. Then the magic bursts in a blanket of glimmers and every patient calms, they sink down into their beds, their coughing subduing. Everyone stares wide-eyed at the outcome. The healers inspect the Cookies who now lay sound asleep, The twinkle of stars stick to their dough. "Wha?- Their dough?- They're regaining colour! And their fevers are lowering!"

All eyes go to you. "But how?-"

The magic around you cools like the day coming to veil the stars. Your Souljam dims. You take a step toward the others, But just as you pass the Cookie who had been mumbling, something grips your hand.

The healers gasps.

"That power..." The patient says, their voice more clear than ever before. "Then..you must see it to...righ- right? It's so divine...so liberating."

Your hand furls inwards. You watch in disbelief as the cracks on your hand turn....white. The pain completely numbing. You lower yourself, nearing them. "I'm sorry?" You mutter gently.

"Reader Cookie, be careful." Caramel Arrow warns.

The patient leans in, their frayed exhales is all you hear for a while. "Your soul is so burdened..." You eyes stray to the Cookie. Their wording...

"Your soul is so ridden with anger..." The Cookie laughs painfully, as though they're forcing out words against their will. Their grip tightens, and they gape you in...desperation? No, fear. "Why?"

You can't bring yourself to answer.

The patient trembles, repeating the word higher. "Why!?"

They let go, coughing uncontrollably again. Flour crawling up their throat, your magic already wearing off. The healers hurry to their aid. You sit there, frozen, you're half-inclined to believe the raging winter from outside had broken in and swallowed you in its storm. Perhaps that would better than the unfathomable dread currently seeping into your being.

"Reader Cookie." Dark Cacao Cookie speaks to you. "Could you follow me?"

You rise in one swept motion, turning around with a earnest smile. "Of course, Your majesty."

There's a halt in Dark Cacao's expression.

"I must excuse myself." He looks to Caramel Arrow Cookie, who bows. Then he bids for you to follow.

The trail was one made in silence. Passing tapestries of fought battles that illuminates by dancing torch-light. The whole innermore of the castle is muted. Colours of grey, black and purple are everywhere to be seen. You tag a few metres behind the Holder of Resolution, intentional.

Dark Cacao Cookie is warrior respected in both name and in person. Any sensible warrior knows of his strength and determination to defend that which his dear to him, his readiness to cut down any foes that stand to harm his kingdom.

If all had gone accordingly, Dark Cacao Cookie has read the letter sent by Pure Vanilla Cookie. You aren't sure on the his thoughts on the matter.

There's so been so much thrown at you with little time process any of it. You think back to the letter. The warnings ingrained in ink.

Ancient demons called Beast Cookies roam these lands. We were all shocked to learn that these Beast Cookies were the first owners of the Soul Jam! 

I know it's hard to believe, but it seems that our Soul Jams are connected to the power of these Beast Cookies. Now that they have awoken, they will attack us to reclaim their lost Soul Jams. 

Should you have warned them in advance? The moment they proclaimed the expedition to Beast-Yeast? There had been no reason to at the time. You couldn't have predicted the seal would break.

But should you have? You won't deny that a part of you had prolonged it out of fearfulness. If you told the Ancients and your friends, who you truly are, about the Beasts and your past with them...

Would they have shunned you? Would they have looked at you in apprehension? disdain? betrayal?

Claim it was only a matter of time before you to, abandoned your divinity in favour of sin?

The thought made terror and worry rip into your heart. You don't want to be left alone again.

Youdon'tyoudon'tyoudon'tyoudon't-

Your trip ends at a door standing proud the end of the hall. Dark Cacao Cookie opens it, and holds it wide for you, you walk inside, thanking him.

There's a round table with multiple chairs neatly tucked under it's surface. The room is cold, a window displaying the raging black tides of the sea is your right. You shiver. You can once more see your own exhales.

You take a seat nonetheless.

"Are you cold?" He asks. His voice surprisingly calm despite everything transpiring.

You brush your hands over your lap. "A bit, but it's nothing excruciating."

There's no response, just heavy footsteps. You anticipate for him to say something. But instead, something is draped over your shoulders. Warm and soft. A purple coat with a wool collar. You blink. Your reply is delayed, caught off guard.

"...Thank you Your Majesty."

Dark Cacao Cookie leans his sword against the wall. You narrow your eyes at the Souljam once more. It's definitely glowing...Is it reaction to... my presence then?

"There's no need for formalities, Dark Cacao Cookie is fine, You are..." He stops himself then amends. "- a trustworthy ally." He mumbles, it brings your attention back. You nod.

Your company walks around the table, his heavy armour rustling as the only sound between you.

"I have received a letter from Pure Vanilla Cookie explaining your predicament." You have to stop yourself from getting tense. You guessed Dark Cacao's request inferred that he wishes to talk with you. Which is understandable. The contents of the letter is nothing to take lightly.

He clears his throat, perhaps noticing your shifting.

"I have no doubts that your intentions are good, and you are not on the side of these demons. Yet, I must ask, what is your relationship with these...Beast Cookies?"

You look down. Every line, every explanation you had ever concocted suddenly disappears from your mind like mist. You push yourself to half-ramble the first thing that comes to you.

"Well...We used to be friends, much like you and the other Ancient Heros." You swallow down bile. "Then at some point, they begun developing feelings...for me"

"But...Their duties, power proved too much, they strayed from the path of good and turned to darkness."

You close you eyes.

"They got rightfully sealed away for their crimes, and I was sure they would forget me...But I was proven wrong. Terribly wrong. And their...feeling have rotten over the period of their confinement and twisted into infatuation for reason I can't grasp."

That's a half-truth.

When your friends started unravelling under the pressure of their duties, they grew attached, you noticed it. You wanted to be there for them and help. You should've heeded the Pixies words when you had the chance.

“Don’t you think they’re getting too dependent on you?“

“I understand they care for you, My Priest, But too much affection breeds attachment, and too much attachment breeds dependency which under the wrong circumstances can corrode into obsession.”

You saw the signs and ignored them. The gullible fool you are.

"I am determined to stop them, no matter the risks, If not for my sake then for Cookiekind's."

When your speech is done. The same quietness returns. What is anyone supposed to say to a confession as grave as that?

A rough sigh escapes out of Dark Cacao Cookie. "That is very noble of you. Your resolve is truly what this world needs."

"Thank you, Dark Cacao Cookie."

With that you left with respectful bow to the king.

When the doors close, Dark Cacao pulls out the crinkled letter. There's a small paragraph on the bottom. One that had intentionally been omitted from your copy.

They have been through a lot, and are burdened with guilt and shame. I suspect Reader Cookie blames themselves for everything that has transpired, to the point that they're willing to take extreme risks uncaring of their own safety or well being to atone. The Beasts will without doubt, exploit this to try and force Reader Cookie to join them.

Dark Cacao Cookie... please keep them safe.

Dark Cacao Cookie runs a hand through his hand. "What to do?"

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

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Welcome to ''All the things the Beasts have given Reader Cookie" and the first answer is, drum roll please!:

Abandonment issues.

@gamerlizzy8421 @tagmepls @berriblissful @shinning-stars @biadoll21 @galaxybear @yuraa0103 @h3apm3ch4n151m @roseapov @zekicosmos2 @thebestguardian @theforgottenheros @senya-zimm @the-bookish-artist@astraeasylvia @hopefullynotademon @haroun31 @randomfoxsworldsstuff @shrimpmice @shsltraditionaldancer @tway-la @blackcatl0ver @strawberryauroraa @flozenbullet @somebuddyboi @girlypopphyscho @zanyprototypenight @stxrrydoves @sum1ko @awtryingmybest @awtryingmybest @paastaboi @rottenbloodypomegranate littlelady12

-Faceless

[r1poffmyface]

[The Sixth Redemption]

Yandere Beast Cookies x reader Bonus chapter

Main story wordcount: 1.7k

I'll die if I wither in your memory.

Please leave comments and your thoughts on the chapter, they motivate me lots! Thank you<3

Some Cookies say that solitude sparks creativity.

A fine brushstroke swipes across cardboard, creating the shape of a star.

Another dab of paint fills it in with colour.

Shadow Milk Cookie argues against this sentiment. At least, to this extent.

This isolation is one wherein even his own voice eludes him. Any sounds muffle into silver bark. The darkness is so encroaching his eyes adjust and swear they see something in a distance that can't be breached, just for it to be more vast depths of darkness.

The air is stuffy and compressed. Although, beneath it, lingers the scent of spice, flour, sugar and salt....It's a rather odd amalgamation.

He digresses. Point being, this divine punishment of eternal solitary confinement is a bore. A drag, even. The worst of writers would turn their noses up at the uninspiring finale. It's the same redundant storytelling every time. Evil is driven to dormancy while the world basks in peace. He'd seen it, blurry visions through the cracks of vines. Trees with soft edges, sky smudged with lilac and Faeries passing like wisps of glittering silver. Their despicable, serene hymns flow from daybreak to the fall of night.

such an picturesque, simple-minded existence they lead.

He longs for nothing more than to tear it apart. Squander the tranquillity of their lives as they bear witness to horrors beyond their comprehensions.

At this moment, though, that is not where his frustration lies. It's with the cardboard illustration before him.

An illustration of you.

He'd been working ardently on this piece for hours; he assumes it's been hours. The concept of time is a luxury he doesn't have here. Nevertheless, he just can't seem to perfect the artwork. There's something missing. He can't decipher what.

The brush vaporises in a cloud of blue. He studies the puppet long.

He remembers the colour of your dough, the length of your hair, the details of your apparel, the placement of your Souljam, the shade of your eyes, the way they shine when you smile, the way your voice would enthral his senses and the softness of your touch, yet he can't grasp what he's missing. It irritates him to no end.

The harsh rattling of chains catches his pondering. His mismatched eyes blink. A cynical smile etches onto his lips. Hmm, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to ask his...cellmates.

With a flick of his wrist, the work-in-progress propels forward to the silver fork adjacent to the Master of Deceit.

The air trembles as heat oozes from each restless step the Great Destroyer takes. The grip on his parashu is strained; inarticulate grumbles slip from his mouth. He paces and paces. Like a restless Beast, literally. It's been long bygone since his reign of terror was rooted out. The ruins of Kingdoms he left in his wake were the nightmares Cookies whispered about in cautious conversation, as though afraid if the words carried further than their inaudible breaths, it'd spell their own doom.

As a neighbour in this prison, however, he was jarring and agitated; any attempts at civil discussion ended in threats of being crumbled. Not the most cordial if you ask Shadow Milk Cookie.

"Hey hotstuff!"

Burning Spice Cookie ceases in his path. His searing gaze snaps to call. Flames sizzle over the golden plates of his shoulders; his chest heaves, eyes lowering to the cardboard puppet that dares infiltrate his space.

The replica of your smile stares back up at him. His hand twitches around the handle of his weapon, and so does the corner of his eye.

Shadow Milk leans against the silver bars. "Wouldja do me a favour and tell me—" He can't finish his request as a blade cleaves through the air, almost slicing his hard work into bits.

"GET THAT GARBAGE OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

The snarl is kindled with rage, booming too loud for the close-packed area. Shadow Milk Cookie is sure the others hear it as well. He reels back the illustration before it risks suffering the onslaught of the Destroyer again and evens out his posture, dusting off false dust from his shoulders.

"My, my...what a heated delivery!" He sighs melodramatically.

His eyes wander, searching for the next participant who could stave off the itch of perfectionism grating his nerves. Further down, to his left. The smell of flour. Hah! just who he was scouring for. The cardboard flies over to the apathetic once-wish granter.

Her poise was flawless, sturdy as the will she had shunned for the reality of the world's oh-so-meaningless culmination. She never moves, barely talks. She just sits there. crossed-legged, hands folded. Flour-coated lashes obscuring her sight.

"Misty!"

Nothing hints that she heard him.

"Mistyyyy!"

"Yoohoo! Misty!"

There's a slight crease in Mystic Flour Cookie's brow, her eyes open. Slit and hollow.

"What is it?" Comes her detached reply.

The Beast of Deceit grins triumphantly. He says your name; it has such a pleasant ring to it, he savours the delightful sound. "You two were practically attached at the hip." Magic nudges the puppet closer to the Master of the Ivory Pagoda. "Is there anything, however teensy-tiny, that I'm missing from this drawing?"

Mystic Flour Cookie looks down at the depiction of you.

For a second, a fleeting one. Her detachment fixates into something heavy; it's impossible to label it as anything tangible. It's there, then she breaks her unyielding stare, closing her eyes, and it's not.

"It is futile to engage in your tedious antics." She ends her part of the conversation, returning to her meditation; her back straightens.

Shadow Milk Cookie clicks his tongue. "Ugh...whatever."

The cardboard whirrs clockwise.

That silent knight.

What is it he goes by now? - Silent Salt Cookie? The epithet is incredibly lacking in subtlety; he lives up to his name anyhow. Every since the beginning of this washout of a punishment. He hasn't said a word. not one. Shadow Milk Cookie has tried to elicit a discussion out of him without success. A provocation here, an underhand insult there. Nothing works. So boring.

There is one thing that entices a reaction out of the Commander, albeit small and unnoticeable to the obtuse eye. Anything that has to do with you.

You had that effect, like the marvellous phenomenon you were.

"Pst, Salty!"

Nothing. Predictable.

He almost merges with the darkness of the surroundings. He's clad in pitch-black armour that bears scars from battles unknown. He stands unshaken, arms laced over his chest. It's said he wiped out his ever-loyal army with his own blade. Such cruel irony.

"Saltyy!"

The puppet waves with its hand. "You were very close to them; you saw them everyyyy day, no? Help an old pal out here!" He chirps falsely.

Metal rustles a fraction, and the Master of Deceit swears the knight's shoulders go tense.

"..."

"Oh, come onnn!"

The silence pours out until it drowns into tense waiting. Shadow Milk Cookie has never been good with either. Quietness grows claws, claws that rip into anyone forced to endure it. It feels restless, confronting and unbearably stale. He huffs at the perpetual rejection of his very simple request. Seriously, how hard can it be to answer one question?

One last shot.

Right from him, sweetness so sickening it can rot teeth, a meadow of absurd pastel flowers with vines that circle around the silver points of the fork. It's the most idyllic area of this cylinder confinement. It's the space taken up by the Bringer of Happiness. Although she's not really... happy right now, Shadow Milk Cookie supposes.

She's been crying her little heart out forever now.

"Sugar!~" He sings.

Eternal Sugar Cookie lifts her head from her hands; her rose-pink hair clings to her tear-stained face. Her eyes gloss with a pitiful shine. Her wing clasps tightly around her body like she's trying to console herself. She's met eye to eye with the cardboard puppet of you.

"I've been trying to finish this one for agesss, but it feels like there's just something missing, care to give a hand?" Shadow Milk's voice is tuned, hiding an undertone of slivering mischief, like a snake.

Eternal Sugar Cookie blinks, and the puppet makes a twirl in sparkles. Her bottom lip quivers.

The Beast of Deceit tuts innocently. ''Oh, I forgot that it does that sometimes, quite charming, eh?-"

She starts weeping again. Her inconsolable sobs resound at high volume in the Silver Tree. Shadow Milk Cookie's expression tightens to faux worry. He pulls back the puppet.

Burning Spice Cookie covers his ears from the obnoxious cries. "Now look what you've done, you yapping clown!"

"Whatttt? How was I supposed to know she would take it that hard? I just wanted to know—"

"STOP TALKING!" "Stop talking." "Stop talking!"

All three spectators reprimand in unison.

The trickster slumps back into his cage. "What a buzzkill..." He mumbles. He observes his work; the paint had smudged from all the to-and-fro pulling, leaking into a mingle of unattractive murky colours. Its eye had begun dripping off paint, making it look like it's crying. His joyous front slips away. His hand grazes the puppet's face, wiping the tear away, soiling the colouring more.

He misses you.

It's that singular truth he can't shed; on the grandiose stage of deceit that he's orchestrated, where falsehoods and chaos run rampant so delectably, there's one, one truth. Such a small and insignificant number, the closest to nothing. Yet it makes up for its size in its magnitude.

Just as one droplet of deceit can taint an empire, so can a drop of truth ripple an ocean of deceit.

You're that truth.

A star shining so bright in the dark he can't help but be awe-struck. So good, so pure, so...perfect and always out of his reach.

He misses you.

He knows the others do too. Burning Spice's hesitation, Mystic Flour's lingering stare, Silent Salt's tensed shoulders and Eternal Sugar's crying. It's evident even if they try sooo hard to hide it.

His grip firms around the cardboard....That Elder Faerie is going to pay for sealing them in here.

crack.

The puppet breaks and falls to the ground in fragments. Shadow Milk Cookie watches it tiredly. Looks like he's going to have to start over. Again.

The wreckage disappears, replaced by a blank brown cut-out.

He takes up the brush; he thinks back to your soft smile.

He truly does miss you.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Hehehe, bonus chapter. How was it?

For more: The Sixth Redemption Masterlist

-Faceless

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[r1poffmyface]

[The Sixth Redemption]

Yandere Beast Cookies x Reader part 8

Previous | Next. Wordcount: 4.9k

I'm here regardless of the pain. Don't ever tell me to go away.

Please leave comments and your thoughts on the chapter, they motivate me lots! Thank you<3

You're not insane.

No, insanity would imply you've lost sense over your choices. That your sanity has eroded and left your mind a wasteland for you to wander as a husk of yourself. The choices you've made up until now may have been incautious, but not by any means made in loss of reason. You'd even argue that you're too aware of the rationality behind your actions. Ever since that seal rotted, you've been operating on pure determination.

Now, your body has paid the price for your carelessness and offers it back tenfold. There's an incessant throbbing under your dough. Your throat is painstakingly dry and your eyes burn like they're being clawed from the inside out.

You've been on the walk for a while now. Lost in a train of thoughts that races past before you can grasp it. Your brain feels like mush; every time a coherent thought starts to shape, it breaks back into goo just as fast, taking any sentiment of frustration with it down the drain. So you remain a passive observer in your own mind, if just to avoid the headache.

Your feet move over one another; the pliant grass brushes against your ankles. You wander without a real direction to follow; the surroundings haven't changed from their humdrum appearance, vibrant fields of green – that's all there is for miles.

You halt. A tiny prick of irritation slithers through the tar of your thoughts. Am I going in circles?? Your hand goes up to your necklace on instinct. Nervousness building up in you like a dam ready to break. Your Souljam feels warm, uncomfortably so. Its heat pulsing and spreading across your chest...You don't recall putting it back on. Nevertheless, it's the last thing you're concerned with.

Those memories. They played before your eyes like a horror movie. Reminding you of the anger, the desperation and helplessness that had consumed you for weeks, months.

There is a reason why you barred the events away to the depths of your subconscious, never to see the light of day. Yet its narrative has holes; you've just never delved deep enough to actually question its essence.

Someone had saved you that day. You wouldn't be here otherwise. It's a bitter truth to swallow.

But who?

Elder Faerie had never told you who had brought you to the kingdom, and you had not explicitly asked. It was merely a fact. The subject remained the eggshells, neither of you thought about breaking. You look down onto the windless pasture, staring until tiny shapes warp from nothing.

You had woken up in the Silver Kingdom. Traumatised and on edge. Greeted by Elder Faerie himself, the fabled ruler of the Faeries, stories of his existence and that of his kingdom only passed down by parents to starstruck children under the shelter of their covers.

The conversation you two had was one that broke your world forever.

"Why are you showing me this?" You whispered, your voice a cluttered mix of confusion and misery, and your eyes beheld the glowing Silver Tree before you.

"Because you have the right to know what occurred," Elder Faerie admits. There are hints of melancholy in his composed tone. "...The reason why chaos broke out in the continent is because the other Divine Emissaries each abandoned their virtue and turned to evil."

Your eyes glossed. "What?..."

"After their descent into darkness, they purposely hid from you behind their Deceit, Apathy, Sloth, Destruction and Silence."

"They ...hid from me?"

I'm afraid so...The Witches have now banished them under the Silver Tree's quarry for their crimes. It appears Redemption was the only one that didn't fall...a small miracle in dire times. " The Guardian asserts, the gleam from the tree hits his armour and reflects to the ground in fragments. The stillness that accompanies you is excruciating. Whatever the Faerie King thinks of your rejection to respond is unclear. "...I understand you may be angry—"

Your eyes snap to him; the attempt at consolation veers at you like a knife. "Angry? Why would I possibly be angry?"

Your voice rises several octaves. "Is it because I spent every moment I could being with them and listened to their woes? Only for them to suddenly disappear? Then find out that they not only have given into corruption, but have also been purposely avoiding me all this time?

Elder Faerie stays silent. You continue, pacing back and forth like a beast in a cage.

"That I spent hours writing frantic letters when strife first broke out on the continent? Simultaneously trying to stop the chaos spreading across the land that they were causing behind my back!? That I dropped everything, EVERYTHING I was doing on a whim to visit them because I was worried that perhaps they had been hurt – or worse?? OR...or When those common Cookies ambushed my cathedral, and as I was crumbling in a pool of my own jam. All I could think about was praying and hoping that they were safe?"

You hold back tears. The anger within you is so poignant it threatens to poison the last remains of your soul. "Should I feel angry because I want to tear that tree from its roots and demand their non-existent remorse for making a fool out of me?!"

Your inflexion is jagged now. Breaking piece by piece. "Tell me, Guardian of the Seal. Should I feel wronged because—" You point to the cursed tree." -THIS WAS THE WAY I FOUND OUT?!"

The Faerie king bows his head."...I shall leave you in peace."

Once on your lonesome, you break. You fall to your knees; sobs that echo throughout the entire shimmering kingdom wrack your body. The cracks on your dough fester and expand with the overflow of your emotions, and the Silver Tree seems to mock you with its blinding light.

Why were you not enough?

You had hollowed out every part of yourself for them. But in the end, it seems that in their eyes, everything you gave was ultimately worth less than the dirt under their feet.

Why was everything you did never enough?

Why were you never enough?

For them.

For the common Cookies.

For the Witches.

Why were you never ENOUGH?!

What did you do it all for in the end?

Did any of it have a point?

If you had succumbed to your fate lying on those cold tiles, would they have known? Would they have cared? Or would they have laughed? Dismiss it like all the other lives lost by their hands?

You've lost everything.

Crumbling in ignorance would have been a kinder mercy than this.

...You've got a headache again.

It's almost laughable.

They betrayed you, and now, they have the nerve to want you back?

You squeeze your eyes shut and make an effort to focus. You can't unravel now. You can't. It would serve no use at all. You wish there was wind; you wish there were crickets of animals; you wish there was anything that could ground you. There wasn't. you wish your brain wasn't as scrambled as it was. It could aid you in confronting your bane much more clearly; instead, you're swarming in half-finished inclinations that refuse to settle.

You're not insane.

You reopen your eyes and directly furrow your brows. In the distance, lining the horizon, something glimmering catches your fancy.

Is that...a river?  You ponder. Your footsteps move forward without inhibition, the itch in your throat ushering you to get closer.

Once you do, you notice its surface is pale; you stoop down by its edge, taking down your hood. The stream has no ripples, no waves to disturb its calm exterior; it's so translucent your own reflection stares back, the replication hardly looks better than you feel. Your hair is dishevelled, your eyes are jam-shot, and there are cracks in your dough. Just as you suspected. In spite of your condition, you reach out with awe, dipping your hands in. It's cold. very cold. You scoop out the liquid in your cupped hands and up to your mouth, testing the taste on your tongue inquisitively.

it's light and creamy. Almost like milk. Wait...milk? Colours flicker in the water; you look down, expecting the apparition to be gone, only to be met with a pair of eyes staring back at you.

Ummm?... You blink. Stumped, your hands frozen.

A splash to your left makes you jolt. ...A milk river and eyes... The realisation comes to you as you rise to your full height in haste. Oh crumbs, crumbs...

You whirl around, proving too fast; you go crashing into another. The impact causes you to sway and fall back, head hitting the ground. You hiss, pain erupting through your skull, and a giggle meets your ears, one that sounds much too harmless considering who it came from. It takes you a few seconds to pull yourself back. And when you unfurl your gaze, there's only black, save for the blue eyes etched into the darkness that blink diversely, and of course, the trickster himself. You sit back up, your eyesight striving to adjust.

A chuckle exhales from Shadow Milk Cookie again; he covers his mouth loosely with his hand like he's trying to maintain some form of manners. "Awwww..." He sighs with a jesting lilt. His head tilts, observing you as though you were a newborn cream lamb. His grin returns, all teeth. "Did I scare you?~"

You glare at him slowly, your eyes straying. Truly taking in how...different he looks.

His dough is much more striking blue. A claw mark runs down his right eye, which is ...cyan. His hair is dull; the bright cosmos has faded, replaced by eyes that ogle at you. He's wearing a pitch black jester suit, puffy sleeves, one black, the other white, cut with sapphire-blue accents and a ruffled collar that bears his...upside-down Souljam. He resembles...well, a jester.

The Master of All Knowledge has taken on the role of the fool. The irony is almost comical.

The Beast waves his hand in front of your eyes, snatching your attention back onto him. His grin sharpens. "You need to remember your lines, silly!" He leans further down to meet your hardened visage. Then sets his hand to his chest. "Haven't you missed little ol' moi?~"

Your eyes narrow. Not willing to entertain his dramatics. "No."

Shadow Milk Cookie gasps, albeit feigned; everything he does is. If there was a tiny crack from your answer, it's smoothed over in a blink. The merits of he who has deemed the world his stage.

You recoil as the end of his cane taps on your chest, on your Souljam. Tiny spurts of magic raptures from the staff, the reaction is quick – much to your dismay – the jewel lights up, glowing through your cloak, and of course Shadow Milk Cookie sinks his teeth into the acknowledgement. "Tsk, tsk, I think you have~" He chirps.

His arms spread out grandly, smile melting along the edges. "I've spent soooo long in that blasted tree, and allll I could think about was you. You know?..." He exclaims gleefully. You trail your eyes to your lap, but no sooner is the end of his cane under your chin and cranes it back up to meet his deranged gaze. "There wasn't a single moment where your adorable little face didn't fester in my thoughts!" He adds on with enthusiasm as if he'd been anticipating confessing the fact forever. He probably has.

The cane disappears from your chin to his hand, and he pretends to inspect the glowing ball with a laugh. "Besides, I'm sure the others feel the same...." He glances at you with a wicked glint, folding his arms behind his back. "Don't you think so, my lovely muse?~"

You ignore the pet name and attempt getting on your feet instead. You can't get a balanced footing. It's ridiculous how much your legs shake. That's when a hand and a ruffled sleeve stretch out in your field of vision. You need not look up to feel your pride whittling. You take the offer without a word. His dough is somehow colder than the milk river you drank from.

You expect him to release his hold. but he does not. Ever the showman he is, he lifts it and places a feather-light kiss atop your hand. You rip your arm away. his theatricality is nothing if peevish to you; It's as disingenuous as the deceit he'd grown so fond of.

You bite down on the acid of your own anger; you want to spit out your revulsion and defile his cheer until he's tasted the bitterness of your resentment and chokes on it. You haven't forgotten what he did. What they did. They showed you exactly what you meant to them when they shut you out. When they left you to rot, when their actions and choices riled up the masses to want to crumble you.

Time passing is not an apology, nor is obsession.

You gulp it down, and it burns your insides. "I couldn't care less what you or the others feel." You retort sourly. Just buy time. Keep the conversation flowing.

That shuts the Beast down, to your surprise. His smile dwindles. Face blanking.

It's both a relief and nerve-wrecking. You've got no idea what churns in his mind. He's brilliant after all; it's a fact. But knowledge without soundness of the mind to guide it, is dangerous.

After what feels like eternity, he chuckles, shoulders shaking. Then it breaks out to a fit of hysterical laughter. He buckles back, feet floating in the air. He laughs and laughs and laughs. All you do is stand there in suspense. It's harrowing not being capable of getting a read on him. Shadow Milk Cookie is akin to a puzzle with no right pieces – once you think you found fragments that can correspond, their ends prove too jagged to fit, leaving you more confused than before you tried to solve it.

You wonder if there's anything you could've done or said to stop his descent into insanity.

The Beast's laughter diminishes, his form lurches back in a backward flip, and his countenance stalks closer to yours. "That's right, I almost forgot! You found other Cookies to care for!" He chides, deceptively elated. You eye him spitefully, warning him to tread carefully, a warning he doesn't heed.

"Those, disgusting half-baked thieve—" He squeaks as your hand wraps around his neck.

You glower up at him. Your glare cuts through his charade. He blinks, caught off guard; the eyes in his shadows of his hair quiver. "Don't you dare call them that." You grit through clenched teeth.

The fool picks up the mask once more. Small giggles erupt from him, bordering on trembling, and he gawks at you in utter awe. "You care about them so so much, don't you?..." He asks; the bitterness under his tone is unmistakable. Your grip tightens, eyes narrowing. He hisses, legs flailing. He continues against whatever judgement he still retains.

"Oh, How they've corrupted your sweet mind...But I wonder...do you truly care about them—" His grin is thin as he purrs the last sentence. "—or do you just care about what they remind you of?"

Your crumblegrip slacks. "...What did you say?" You mutter, unable to register his question. Your lax hold is just sufficient for the trickster to scamper; his features darken, his eyes thin to slits and his smile turns cyan, then his body slicks into a black shadow, it crawls along your palm, your arm and shoulder. You watch it blearily. It materialises behind you, and you scowl at the proximity. The scent of blueberries is overwhelming. Your arm lowers.

Shadow Milk's arms wrap around you; his head nuzzles into the slope of your neck. "You heard me..." He whispers mischievously. You say nothing, and he snickers at your silence. "Nothing to say, hmm, sweetie?"

"That's not true." You murmur sternly. Not wanting to test the waters outright confirming his statement, jealousy is an even more vicious beast than the one you're stuck with.

"Is that so?" He repeats teasingly; his breath fans at your rapid-beating pulse. "Lying is not your strong suit~"

"I'm not lying."

"Heh...Just like how you didn't lie to them about who you reallyyy were?~" He drawls out sing-songily. Your hands ball by your sides. This is exactly what you didn't want. Going into a debate over the principles of honesty with the one who has forsaken it. Any Cookie subjected to his dreadfully compelling parlance would begin second-guessing their very morals. You need to focus, lest you be swept away by his poisonous ideals. He is and will remain the Beast of Deceit.

"That's different." You defend. Shadow Milk Cookie circles around back to your front, clasping his hands in almost genuine wonder. "Oho? Do enlighten me! What's the difference?"

"The difference is that I'm not lying." You snap back; your jabs don't elevate the rage within you. Not a lot will. It's an unquenchable inferno that you've had to live with and learn to force down.

The nauseating smile of his slips back, promising nothing good. "Hm! Alrighty, then let me narrow it down for you sweetpea!" His tone goes flat. "Why is it that you care for them so?"

Your visage turns vacant, missing how Shadow Milk's grin sharpens by the edges, relishing in the doubt that breezes over your face. Every sound except your own breathing disperses in the abyss of darkness. You've never wanted noise as much as you do now. An eye blinks to your right, and another to your left.

"Whattt? Can't answer? Come onnn, Haven't you rehearsed your lines?" His gratingly playful voice breaks the quiet. You give him a deadpan, and he puts his hands to his waist. "That won't do!" Shadow Milk lifts a leg in air, twirling his cane. " Orrrr.... is it stage fright, perhaps?" He winks.

"-er Cookie!"

A ghost of a shout reverberates through the abyss. Shadow Milk's facade drops in an instant.

"Meddlesome pests..." He hisses.

"-eader Cookie!"

"Please wak....up!"

The trajectory of your vision starts to swim. the world around splinters at the seams like a tapestry coming undone, string by string. And before the two of you can react, strings snap and you get the sensation that you're f

all

ing.

There's light and pain; it's muted, though, like being soothed. There's the scent of lilies and vanilla, a sweet combination.

Your eyes flutter open. White Lily Cookie hovers over you; she's glowing, her hair intertwined with butterflies, wearing a white dress. She smiles down at you with doe-like melancholy. You believed yourself to have seen every beautiful thing this world had to bestow in your unending life. None of it compares to the sight before you.

You shift your gaze to the side; Pure Vanilla Cookie sits next to you. His hands delicately weaving healing magic, possessing the precision only someone who's seen countless horrors could have. His eyes are suffused with concern. "Please...don't move; you're injured." He instructs softly.

The peace gets interrupted by a shriek directed at the Guardian.

"YOU...YOU!! HOW DARE YOU TAKE THEM FROM ME?!"

White lily drapes her arms over your numb shoulders protectively. Pure Vanilla's hands stiff. They stay like that until the phantom of the Cookie of Deceit has completely vanished. The rest of the group comes rushing up to you three, the brave trio inching near you with wide eyes. "Reader Cookie! Are you alright?" You smile at them weakly. "I'm alright..."

They fall over you into a group hug. "We were so worried!!" Strawberry Cookie cries. Pure Vanilla gently  informs them. "Be careful now; their condition is still unstable."

Mercurial knight Cookie steps forth, addressing White Lily respectfully. "Guardian of the Seal. Let us defeat the remaining spawns of evil and take back the Faerie Kingdom."

She nods, looking to Pure Vanilla. "Pure Vanilla Cookie, Could you stay with them?"

"Yes, I will."

You were leaning against the Silver Tree. Pure Vanilla is still assessing your dough; you were worse off than you had thought. His movements trail over your arms, your neck and jaw. Each tinge grounds you to the moment. Healing is his expertise. Pure Vanilla Cookie was gentle in his work as he was proper. However, there was one wound he couldn't mend.

"There's a huge gash in your Souljam..." He mutters, his hands hovering near the star-shaped gem. His eyebrows furrow. "And there are cracks that originate from the cut that go over your dough that I can't seem to heal." His hand rests on your cheek. Your eyes close; you wet your lips.

"Because you can't." You reply, and the finality in your sentence lingers heavy.

Pure Vanilla's movements cease. "I'm sorry?"

Your hand grazes the jewel sorrowfully. "This...it...It runs deeper than my dough. It's imbued into my soul. It can't be healed."

None of you say anything.

"That may be so." The healer says sympathetically. "But I can still do my best to ease your pain."

"....Thank you...Pure Vanilla Cookie."

" Of course, after all you've done for us...It's the least I can do."

Everyone comes back relatively unharmed; the Faerie Kingdom returned to its former glory, lush flowers bloom, and The grass is soft purple and smooth to the touch, some patches reaching over the other. The air rings with dulcet musings.

The seal glimmered silver once again. The intensity that plagued the atmosphere was gone.

You sensed nothing.

Nothing.

Your mind went frigid as though you were doused in ice. You prop yourself up so quickly your dough aches in protest. Pure Vanilla and The dough trio hurry to your side. There's a high pitch in your ears. Panic overtakes all your functions. You sensed nothing. That rotting feeling of evil that once seeped from the trees' roots was no more. It could only mean one thing.

They had escaped.

Just then a voice slices through the air so evidently all Cookies hear it.

"You think you won, don't you?!"

"HUH?! How are you still talking?!" Wizard Cookie yells.

"You may be celebrating your little victory for now..."

"But heed my words! We have finally risen. Do not think that you can hold us back..."

"Foolish Cookies...! You simply have no idea what's waiting for you...!"

"HA HA HA HA HA!"

No one dares say anything.

It's been two days.

Two days since the seal split open.

Two days since Elder Faerie passed.

Two days since the Beasts escaped.

You've been staying in the Kingdom. Healing and the moon sink into the horizon and give way to the warm sun for the two days. The Faeries feast for two days in honour of the late King and new Guardian, it'd go on for months should they want it. The silver waters rush by in all their shimmer. The trees swoosh in the calming wind; branches touch the rays of light of sun and beam it down in outlines of leaves.

There was relief; evil was defeated.

You weren't relieved; there is no relief to feel. You've been in deep thought. Every hour was one where you'd grow more restless.

The first day you mourned Elder Faerie, you decked the windows and mirror in his room in white cloth and placed a basket of soil and salt on his bed, paying your respects. The second day, you were silently figuring out how to best approach this unforeseen conclusion. The Beasts had escaped. And worst of all, they remember you. You predicted that their imprisonment would tarnish their remaining sanity. Anyone who experienced their level of sensory deprivation would. But that they would stoop down to obsession... If Shadow Milk Cookie's words are anything to take to heart, it spells peril for not only you but the Ancients as well.

That's why you need to stop them.

A rope ties around cloth. You prepared all necessities you could possibly need to venture into the unforgiving land of Beast-Yeast. Food, water, and your weapons. Check, check, check.

It was dark. The luminosity of blue flowers basks over your form. This escapade reminds you of White Lily Cookie. She did the same, leaving in the peak of nightfall to confront her fate. So will you. If your corruption is inevitable, if you are destined to walk the path of evil by design, then you will drag them down with you to atone for the injustice that was wrought upon Cookiekind from the moment you were all created.

Shadow Milk Cookie was wrong. In every definition of the word. You care about the Ancients because of who they are as Cookies; they're kind and righteous. They represent everything Earthbread needs to prosper. That they powered through where you all stumbled is just a coincidence.

They have seen the cruelty of this world firsthand and still get up and fight for what's good. You admire that. Even White Lily Cookie. She saw the error of her ways and regrets it. That's the first step to Redemption.

Redemption...

Maybe it still has a sliver of chance.

"Are you leaving?..."

Talk about coincidences.

You turn on your heel. To see the two Ancients standing close together, Pure Vanilla holds a white cloak while White Lily holds a book...a journal. One that's too familiar to you. You swallow.

"Yes" Is all you can get out of your closed-off throat. The two share a look. You hate that look; being pushed in the dark is such a powerless state to be put in, thoughts starts to soar through the chamber of your mind like distressed birds. You don't want to be pushed aside. The mere notion itself devours you with anxiety. White Lily Cookie walks up to you.

"When I stayed in the Faerie Kingdom, my room once belonged to someone else; that's what his Majesty told me." She says, eyes glued onto your unreadable expression. "And I found this..."

What had inclined you to keep it? You went back once, once. There was no life to be found, only a decrepit cathedral. The winds wailed in sorrow. and it reeked of dried jam. You don't know why you picked it up and left; you just did. Never looking back since. The Holder of Freedom opens the book, her gloved hand running over the worn calligraphy. "I'm aware I shouldn't have pried, yet it was as fascinating as it was heartbreaking. It spoke of virtues...redemption and freedom." She glances back up at you with wonder. "I knew it had to be you, and it reminded me of when we first met."

I hold no doubt that you will lead through this life in pride and honour.

Always remember the light in your heart, and your path shall always find itself back to where you want to be.

"I..." She looks back to Pure Vanilla Cookie. "We...have never forgotten those words. She turns back to you. "We'd sit by the campfire and discuss you... who you were and if we'd ever see you again."

Pure Vanilla Cookie is the one who speaks next. "You've been through a lot of hardships. You don't have to carry it all alone. Reader Cookie..."

"But I do." You finally respond. "You, the other Ancients, none of you understand what you're truly up against. " Your voice is firm amidst the breeze of the night. "You inherited the vestiges of purity once part of their original strength that they now want back. I made a promise...that if the Beasts would ever escape. I would stop them and protect the new holders." You sigh at last. "Even if that wasn't the case...there's something I need to retrieve from their domains."

Pure Vanilla Cookie walks up to you and places the clothing in your hands. "The Faerie Cookies made this for you as a thank you for your help." He murmurs. You expand the fabric; it's a full-length white cloak with white sleeves and accents of different fading colours along its edges. You smile.

You unclasp your grey cloak and fold it into your carry bag, putting on the new one. "It fits perfectly. Send the Faeries my sincere thanks..."

Pure Vanilla Cookie straightens like he'd remembered an important detail. He reached into his pocket for three secured letters with sigils. One a diamond, one a triangle, and the other a heart. He gives you them. His mismatched eyes soften. "I sent word to Crispia; the others know you're on your way and... who you are. I apologise for my possible overstep."

You scrutinise the crests, lagging slightly on the diamond-shaped stamp. "So you knew I was planning on leaving then?" You chuckle light-heartedly.

"Thank you both; I'll be back as soon as I can." You assure, pivoting around to trek into the vast land. Magic manifests from the ground and shrouds you in stars. Your dough reduces to powder and wings.

"Be careful, Reader Cookie..."

You give the two heroes one last glassy-eyed look and fly up into the sky.

Will I be able to stop them? You wonder. Evil has nothing to lose; it devours and takes what it pleases, uncaring how it affects the world. The good have everything to lose.

When all has been done, when the final civilisation has fallen. When the lands are decayed to barren wastelands. When hope has been snuffed out in every nook and cranny of Earthbread. When there's nothing left to destroy and no one left to deceive, the final bodies are dissipated to flour, when everyone has crumbled under the illusion of endless happiness and everything is silent.

Would they be satisfied?

It's a question that beckons an impossible answer. You wouldn't let it happen, not ever.

Your grief could only go so far.

So you fly, over the forests, to the resolute Kingdom that stands by the Licorice sea.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Previous | Next.

Phew Finally! Now comes admittedly the most fun parts! The other Beasts!  I Hope this chapter was alright, i'm a bit scared I wrote the Ancients and SMC a bit too out-of-character :,) Sorry for that! This is a bit later because well...I just overslept and woke up at almost 6 pm instead of 6 am...Anywho. How was this chapter?

taglist: @gamerlizzy8421 @tagmepls @berriblissful @shinning-stars @biadoll21 @galaxybear @yuraa0103 @h3apm3ch4n151m @roseapov @zekicosmos2 @thebestguardian @theforgottenheros @senya-zimm @the-bookish-artist @astraeasylvia @hopefullynotademon @haroun31 @randomfoxsworldsstuff @shrimpmice @shsltraditionaldancer @tway-la @blackcatl0ver @strawberryauroraa @flozenbullet @somebuddyboi @girlypopphyscho @zanyprototypenight @stxrrydoves

-Faceless

[r1poffmyface]

「The Sixth Redemption」

Yandere Beast Cookies x Reader part 7

Previous | Next. Wordcount: 13.5k

Trigger warning: Unreality, verbal abuse, traumatic flashbacks, internalised victim-blaming, survivors guilt. psychological horror, descriptions of violence and Blood/ (jam?) Read at your own risk. Prioritise your mental health.

QUICK DISCLAIMER: If you wanna be on the TAGLIST of the Sixth Redemption please @ me in your comment so I can keep track of who wants to be tagged! Thank you!! Enjoy this chapter, feast your eyes, its 13k words. Please leave comments and your thoughts on the chapter, they motivate me lots! Thank you<3

Does everyone deserve redemption?

What are the lines one can cross before they are deemed unforgivable?

Some say that redemption cannot be earned. That those who truly seek to make amends for their past will always find it.

Yet, could one be considered redeemed if, in the eyes of others, to be redeemed is to endure endless punishment for their sin?

It's a question that has haunted you for as long as you can remember. Redemption is a knife you've been forced to hold by the blade and no matter how scarred your hands get. — You held on.

It was your mission. The divine will of your Creators.

Because in a world that isn't kind, someone must be.

...

...

....

At least, that's what you wanted to believe.

Light casts through the windows of your cathedral, draping across the polished floors like delicate brushstrokes. Ivy snakes around the edges of glass, its floral scent carries through the halls.

A cookie kneels by your feet.

Their fists tug at the fabric of your robes with desperation, as though proximity to your presence would wash away their worries.

The Cookie suppresses a sob. "Forgive me, merciful one..."

Your visage softens in sympathy; you cup their tear-stained face, and sensations graze the tip of your hands.

Genuine regret.

Tiny sparks ignite beneath your hands, gracing the cookie's dough, and they calm down.

You speak. Voice carrying a softness that bleeds into the hum of nature. "My dear, what sorrows have brought you here?"

You wait patiently as they even out their breathing.

"I stole...I stole food from a farmer..." The cookie explains, their speech breaking into intelligibility ever so often. "Please, you must understand, I was so hungry...."

You wipe away the tears accumulating at the corners of their eyes.

"There is no need to cry; you have come here seeking absolution by the Gods' grace and to right your actions. How could I possibly bestow contempt on you for that?"

A second passes as you straighten your posture with elegance; your movements are effortless, slow, meant to soothe the restless soul and dissuade alarm.

Your tone starts soft, measured.

"I understand your regrets, yet to atone for your wrongdoings, I want you to make restitution for your theft. Give back that which you have stolen and make amends to the one you stole from. Then the Great Creators will forgive you just as I have."

Magic wraps around your hand, stitching the air until a bag places itself in your hand, filled with seeds and pre-made food.

The cookie stares at you with hope as you lay the bag in their shaky hands.

"And I promise you, with enough care and dedication, you will never have to go hungry ever again." You whisper softly.

The cookie's eyes well up in tears once more. It makes your chest ache.

"Yes, I... Oh, thank you! Thank you, Priest of Redemption! I promise I will change my ways!" They plead, standing up from the stone ground, clutching the bag in their hands like a lifeline.

"My Priest, my Priest! That was the last Cookie of the day!" A high-pitched voice cheers. Wings flutter near you, ringing like the chime of bells.

You turn around and lift up your hand as a tiny Cookie lands on your palm. Wings delicate and ribbon-like. Its presence emits an iridescent glow.

A Pixie Cookie.

Pixies, unlike the silvery Faeries rumoured to live deep within the continent, were smaller and more mischievous creatures, primarily living in the canopy of trees around your cathedral. There were times you would go meditate in the forest groves or river springs, and you would hear their quick giggles in the treetops, sometimes even feel surges of magic play with your hair.

You took no offence; it was all harmless fun, you reasoned.

Eventually, after numerous indirect interactions and offering quiet gifts after your meditation was over, they came to you. Extending their willingness to stay by your side as helpers in exchange for your kindness.

You smile and regard the Pixie Cookie with gentleness. "Is that so? Well then I'll—"

Something splashes the side of your face; a collective gasp resonates from the Pixie Cookies in the grand room.

You wince; the substance is gooey and slick. It runs down your face and onto your robes in heavy drops.

Most unfortunately, it reeks.

The silence gets interrupted by a scream laced in anger.

"How dare you forgive that thief!? They stole from my family's harvest, and now the crops will never be as ripe as they were before they got stolen!"

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

You shift your gaze to the assailant.

They stand near the entrance, chest heaving with unrestrained vexation. Their hand, stained with the sheen of green mould.

Rotten jelly – that Cookie threw a rotten jelly at you.

Your mouth parts to address their accusation, but you can't get a word in — you never can — before they point at you with disgust.

"You don't deserve to be an emissary of the Gods! You're weak, and one of these days, your naive forgiveness will doom us all!" They spit, hatred dragging through their intonation like a curse.

And they're gone. The heavy doors groan after them, and the silence tightens as a noose around you. The Pixie Cookies rush to our side, fretting over your tarnished appearance and cleaning the substance stuck to your dough. Your visage doesn't budge.

You're used to condemnation such as this. From dismissal to insults, Cookies saying your name fleetingly, disdainfully. Like they had tasted something vile that they quickly wanted to dissolve. You accepted it all in stride.

Cookies are not perfect after all; they too often fear that which they do not understand and scorn those who do not share their beliefs. It comes out of a place of ignorance rather than any genuine evil. Yet, recently, their words have gotten...louder, meaner. Reprimands meant to cut deeper, denouncing your divinity altogether.

It pierces something within you, searing through your dough. A trace of a feeling you can't name; you're not sure you want to.

"My Prie... 

...st?"

You snap out of the trance in an instant. Tenderly taking a towel held out from one of the Pixie Cookies, you wipe away the last filth from your face. Mouth scrunching down when the smell truly embeds into your senses. I'll have to change before leaving after all....

"That Cookie was so insolent!" The Pixie that had been floating near your hand fumes. Their wings quickly flap in frustration.

You shake your head; a laugh expels from your throat. It's frail and short. Pixie Cookies always has a knack for growing angry on your behalf. Sweet little things with brittle tempers.

"It's quite alright..." You placate their ire.

"Alright!? My Priest!—That hooligan threw a mouldy jelly at you!"

"Cookies often turn fainthearted when blinded by hurt." The towel disappears in a cloud of sparkles. You pivot to the Pixie with a solemn smile. "It wouldn't be right to hold their moments of weakness against them."

The Pixie Cookie wavers in the face of your reasoning. Their tiny form sagging. "I suppose you are correct, My Priest..."

You nod thankfully, then place a hand to your souljam that's resting peacefully on your chest, and your inhalation softens. "I'll be leaving for a while."

A pixie nervously nudged closer. "Are you leaving to visit the other Virtues?"

"Indeed."

The tiny Cookie glanced down for a quick second to convey their fluctuating hesitation. The light from the window illuminates their wings in a pastel rainbow, and the Pixie Cookie pit-pats over to you. "My Priest, I am aware you spend lots of time with the other emissaries! Lots! But...don't you think they're getting too dependent on you?"

You focus on the nervous Pixie with a curious hum. "Hmm...what makes you think that?"

The Pixie lets their arms sway back and forth. "Well... With all the letters they send you and how often they want to see you, especially in the recent few days..."

You smile, putting the tip of your hand on their head. "I understand your concern... You really don't have to worry; I do not mind." The Pixie Cookie looks at you longer this time. Prodding your words piece by piece, and the concern on their features relents soon after. "Alright..."

The Ivory Pagoda was in a state of peacefulness, the kind of calm that comes after long hours of noise.

Burning incense rises in wisps, swaying like wheat on a windswept day. The sun drips over the bronze tiles of the grand temple and tints the particles of flour clinging to the air, giving the atmosphere an ethereal glow.

Your movements drift diligently around the mooncake chaban with a lulling hum, a habit on your part. Steam sizzles as you pour tea into a cup.

Your expression teeters in the reflection of the liquid.

You lift your eyes to the Cookie sitting at the other side of the table.

Her hair falls around her frame in a field of white. Atop her head is a crown of wheat petals, adorning the Souljam of Volition. Her eyes were pale and soft as milled flour. However, her gaze looked unpurposeful, staring into a distance she couldn't reach.

You pour your own cup next, then put the porcelain pot down and kneel down to sit. Your humming stops, your countenance staying on the Flour of Volition, eyebrows creasing in concern.

"Are you feeling alright, Flour of Volition?..." You question, pulling her back into the moment, her eyes landing on you like light clearing ever-consuming mist.

Her attention drops to the teacup in front of her, then averts in shame. "I'm sorry, I didn't... I shouldn't have zoned out like that..."

You raise the cup between your hands, a peaceful smile curving your lips. "Please, don't be...zoning out happens to the best of us; I have no problems with pouring the tea myself. " you assure, blowing air onto the hot drink before taking a sip. It's so sweet, like peaches.

A mirroring smile forms on the Saint's face, albeit a bit more woeful.

"Still, you are the guest." She mutters.

That earns a light chuckle from you. "I come here almost daily; I would hardly consider myself a guest, you know." You jest.

Flour of Volition lifts her cup dutifully, stirring the tea in a spiralling circle, much like her thoughts. Constantly trying to find the way to grant every Cookie's request, ease their suffering, and find the enlightenment she has been lacking the louder the wishes get.

You notice it, the exhaustion in her expression, similar to desiccated wheat, drying up any vitality, leaving it fragile and hollow. You lower the cup with a cling. Clasping your hands in your lap and pondering a moment.

"How did the wish-granting ceremony go today?..." You ask.

It has become a disheartening topic the last few weeks. Long silences before an answer, a look of uncertainty when a question comes through. It has been so for all of them for a while now.

Duties to uphold, examples to lead, missions to fulfil.

All suddenly hold a bitter taste. Perhaps you worry too much, and it will blow over and fix itself like it always does. It's how it's supposed to be...isn't it?

Yet, something deep within you has doubts. That's why you've tried your utmost best to see the others daily, stretching your duties just a bit. Cutting services short. Having fewer cookies come in. It's not sustainable in the long term, but if it means you can be there for your friends in hard times, it's a sacrifice you're willing to make.

Flour of Volition sighs. You look at her in anticipation. Strands of her pure hair fall over her face.

"They get...more demanding, louder every day. Riches, power—it never ends." Her tone is tranquil, yet there's an edge of dejection behind it.

You take a few seconds to reflect, no more than that. You shift. Reminding yourself to tread with caution, "You don't have to grant them all... It's okay to lay boundaries." You say carefully.

"I fear they don't see it that way."

"That does not mean they're right; they have merely mistaken desire for need. Not all wishes should or can be granted, sometimes not even the most basic of wishes. And it's okay to acknowledge."

You reach over and place your hand over hers, causing a hue to spread through the Saint's face, painting her face a rosy pink.

"You're so selfless, and I adore you for that. But if you only heed every other voice but your own, then you will eventually lose yourself in the process..." You vocalise, voice travelling as a gentle breeze through fog.

"What do you want?"

She diverts her gaze yet again, trying to articulate a response while all she could focus on was the pleasant warmth from your touch.

You. I want you.

She refrains from actually saying it. Instead her mind catapults to the second closest thing she has been yearning for. She intertwines your hand in hers, tightening her hold ever so lightly. "...I wish to pursue enlightenment so that all may benefit from my power, so that all Cookies may be free from suffering."

Your smile softens. "That's a benevolent cause.... If that's what you want, I'll fully support you, no matter what."

"Thank you..."

The two of you soon finish your tea gathering, and you get interrupted by Flour of Volition before you can make a move to clean up. She says your name gently. "Let me do it... It wouldn't be right to let you prepare and clear it..."

Her hands move evenly to assemble the cutlery; you bow your hand and turn to leave with a farewell.

"Very well, thank you for the wondrous tea, Flour of Volition. I cherish our gatherings a lo—"

"Could you stay a while longer?"

You tilt your head to the Saint. Giving her an empathetic look. "I'm sorry, I promised the others I'd visit them today as well, and you know how Herald gets." You playfully roll your eyes.

Flour of Volition can't help but giggle at the last part. "Alright..."

You shift back to the entrance; the door rattles an inch, and you manage to catch sight of cream paws and round eyes. "Looks like someone was listening in on our conversation~" You announce halfheartedly.

Your company glances at the entrance. "Oh, Cloud Haetae Cookie, he's a curious little Haetae, he is..."

You hum and walk to the door where the Cookie stands, staring up at you like a deer caught in headlights. Hair fluffy as white rolls and eyes with a sunlit glow. You outstretch your hand and give the little fellow a head scratch, to which Cloud Haetae happily purrs.

"Hello, little one, say hi to your mother from me." You muse, and Cloud Haetae Cookie nods. "Yes, Reverend!"

When you leave, Flour of Volition puts away the last porcelain dishes. She tucks a white strand of her hair back and finds herself mimicking your humming to soothe her emptying heart...it doesn't bring her the same comfort when its not your voice.

Next, you venture to the land touched by scorching warmth and constant change.

The terrain looked like it had been ground to fine spice, gleaming under the melting daylight. Your feet sink into the crimson sand when you halt your footsteps. The horizon surges with heat, and the distant dunes move in a hazy blur, reminding you of flickering flames.

Hot air dishevels your hair. Huffing, you adjust your grip on the considerably large bowl you're carrying — or maybe it could be more classified as a basket. Filled to the brim with Jellies. You spent a large amount of the previous night cooking them.

In your peripheral vision you see the glimpse of the Spice Temple, carved from red rocks. With two soldiers standing as safeguards at the entrance, their postures are attentive, and their eyes are as sharp as the blades they wield. You walk up to them; their gaze lands on you. Their weapons block your furtherance.

"State your purpose." One of them demands. You lift the basket, showing the Souljam of Redemption.

"I'm here to visit the Herald of Change." You reveal kindly. The soldiers' mouths part in recognition; they bow in respect, synchronising their next words. "Greetings, Reverend."

They allow you entrance, but not before their visages waver. "Priest... I feel it is my obligation to let you know that the Great One has been out of sorts lately..."

You look at the soldier who voiced their concern and smile gratefully.

"He has? In that case, I thank you for letting me know."

The soldier nods in return; they don't appear that confident.

You walk through the halls of the temple, the smell of spices ripe in the air. A few Cookies lean against the stone walls, engraved with murals and languages lost to time. Some in conversation, others immersed in books or simply lounging around.

They wave when you pass, and so do you — or as best as you can while carrying your gift.

However, the closer you get to the throne room, the more barren the corridors get; you peek around puzzled. "Huh..."

You eventually wander to the heart of the temple; you stand just outside the throne room. Heat surging from the area, fanning the air you exhale. You hesitate in your tracks; you swear you hear something give way as stone tumbles and cracks from beyond the walls. Rough mumbles follow.

You pinch your lips shut bemusedly but baffled. Is he rearranging furniture in there??

You pass over the threshold anyway; the Herald's tantrums are a trait you've grown fondly accustomed to. He must have already deemed your arrival overdue.

"Herald! It's—"

"DIDN'T I ORDER TO BE LEFT ALONE?!!" A voice booms, spewing as fiercely as magma from a volcano.

You hastily lift the basket of jellies and dodge what you assume to be a cup, hurling towards you and clattering into bits of golden shards. "...me."

Herald's eyes pin onto you. His glare simmers like lowering embers. Markings paint his face, His charcoal hair sprawls across his back, golden accessories garnish his body and proudly displayed over his head is the Souljam of Change.

"Took you long enough..." He grumbles, two of his arms are crossed over his brood chest, two lay over the armrests of his grand throne and the final limbs hold his parashu. You make your way up to the throne, a rock lies slashed in half a few feet away. So that's what I heard...You grab the bigger piece and place it across the two of you. Putting the basket of jellies on top of it.

You smooth out your robes before sitting down. "I made jellies for you, extra spicy."

The Herald goes taut, fire crawls around his dough in motions of ravishing snakes. He looks to the food then to you. "You made these?"

You fold your hands in your lap and smile at him cheerfully. "For you."

He rolls the tension off his shoulders, the sentiment burns deeper into his mind than he'd like to admit. Reaching for the basket, he inspects a jelly in his grasp before propping it in his mouth. Excitement jitters through your dough as his eyes light up with each bite. He reaches for another one.

"These are..." He breathes out a stubborn huff, mouth full. "Very good."

You hold back your eagerness, swiftly wiping away fake dust from your lap, beyond relieved to see him glad.

Recently, the Herald of Change has been venting boredom. Explaining the monotony of watching the cycle of life grow, only to disappear as quickly as it came. You have been his listening ear, noticing his newfound irritation that only festers with every falling kingdom.

It has worried you utterly.

Worrying that you might not be able to mend his problems as you could with the Flour of Volition. You internally sigh. Alas, you cannot neglect the subject matter, If you wish to make any meaningful progress, that is.

"How was your day?"

The Herald's face drops, swallowing a final bite. His hand props onto his throne's armrest, resting his cheek in the curve of his palm. His eyes close with a furrow of his brows; for a moment you question if he'll answer you.

"Same old as always... another civilisation has perished." He mumbles.

That makes your spirit wane. "Oh..."

"It was that one you were so fond of, the one with the exotic flowers."

"..."

The Herald's eyes open, not meeting your gaze yet burning with fervour so intense it almost threatened to melt and incinerate. There's a prolonged silence between the two of you before he speaks again, his tone heavy. "What's the point of watching history unfold when everything I work for, everything I care for and nurture, is doomed to crumble before my eyes?"

You stare at him quietly. Unsure how to reply. How are you supposed to combat the losses that comes with immortality? You can't prevent kingdoms from rising and falling, no matter how much you want to. Your hands curl inwards. Jam blossoms from your palm.

"Everything eventually ends Herald. But it also leaves for new things to blossom. Cookies, they're... fascinated by things that once was, they learn from it, appreciate it and if everything is predestined to not last, then isn't it that much important to enjoy it while it lasts as well?" Your tone is far lower than you originally intended.

"New...new...is it? It will all wither away sooner or later, it doesn't matter how different they are when they all meet the same fate. In the end I'll lose everything I've held dear." The Herald of Change refutes. Now looking at you, His stare scorches any counterargument on your tongue.

It feels as though you're subjected to overheating, he has such fervency to him. You got no qualms that he could command the Spice Tribes with no so much as a wink of hesitation should he choose to.

"You won't lose me." You murmur. Which causes the Herald to stammer. "I—what?"

"You won't lose me." You repeat. Your company rubs the back of his neck. Face set ablaze in deep red. "That's..." He coughs and then leans back against the throne with crossed arms, raising an eyebrow. "Is that a promise?"

"Yes!" You exclaim, standing upright a bit too quickly. You compose yourself and walk closer to the throne. "...Yes. It's a promise. No matter how much time goes by, or kingdoms rise and fall. We'll still have each other." You reassure, steadfast. The Herald of Change stares at you. The determination etched onto your face sends shivers of awe through his dough. He pulls out of his stupor rather doltishly.

"That doesn't sound...half-bad." He deduces beneath the hush of his breath. You grin mischievously and ruffle his hair. You step back and glance at the opening. "Well... I should take my leave."

His eyes harden like solidifying lava. "Already?" He grunts.

You raise a playful brow. "I recall you once told me not to overstay my welcome." You jest, forcing the Herald to frown in slight embarrassment. "That was..." He breathes out, the fire latching to his dough spits tiny embers. "Long ago. You're the only one I can be around without crumbling from boredom."

Your countenance changes to impishness, and your hands fold behind you. "Is the Great Herald admitting he enjoys my company??"

"Don't flatter yourself."

You laugh, ceasing your shenanigans. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. Although I do have to leave, I'm visiting the others as well, you see..." You wave at him, and the Herald follows your movements with magnitude, memorising each one of your motions, from the softness in your smile to the lively stride in your pace. "Bye Herald! Enjoy the Jellies!"

"Bye..." He mumbles, however your footsteps have already descended down the hall. Heat flares in your absence, smearing the throne room in a warmth so voracious it obstructs the very air the Herald of Change inhales. It doesn't bother him in the slightest.

All he could focus on was the boiling of his jam and the anger that emanated with it.

One of his arms swats the bowl of jellies from his sight; it collides against a stone wall, cracking it. The Herald glares at the damage... a momentary satisfaction at the minuscule destruction overshadows all other emotions.

The candied air of the Garden of Delights envelops you. Its sweet embrace greets you like the doziness after a sugarcrash.

Your eyes sweep over the fields of flora. Pastel cotton clouds drift past you in leisure. Streams flow without haste. Birds chirp harmonious little lullabies, and each step you take is softer than the other. It felt as though you had walked into heaven on Earthbread, so calming yet beautiful.

You catch Cookies resting in beds of petals; more flutter down and land delicately on their dough. A small smile comes to your lips. You don't dare disturb their slumber.

You exhale a hum. She's not here... You wander on.

The sweetness of the garden concentrates the deeper you go, and the path soon narrows, veins carefully curling inwards with the help of your magic, until you stand at the doorsill of the inner sanctum. Fragrance lingers heavier here, colours are so vibrant they sting your eyes.

You don't get the liberty to take in the environment for long, as someone calls your name, their voice dripping with warmth and desperation.

Another form embraces you. You yelp, needing to stagger to accommodate the sudden collision. You blink, then look to the one who had practically thrown themselves in your arms. A Cookie of gracile softness. The epitome of Compassion and joy. The Bringer of Happiness. Hair of spun sugar, her dough pink, wearing a thin tiara of melting pastels, the only contrast being a heart-shaped magenta gem in the centre, the Souljam of Happiness.

"You're here!..." She whispers, hiding in the crux of your neck. You place your hands around her upperarms to balance the both of you.

"Hi there, Sugar of Happiness." You chuckle, but your visage turns to concern as you hear muffled sobs slipping from her lips. You put your hands on her shoulders to try and get a look at her, but her grip only tightens.

"What happened?? Are you alright?"

A suppressed snivel, then-

"Don't leave... Please don't leave."

Your worry rouses. You try again to create distance, but the Bringer's poise sinks, dragging you down akin to dripping syrup.

You both dip down to the sugar-coated grass. Still, she clings to you; you almost wonder if she seeks to melt into you – Her hands grasp at your robes, her body presses so close you can count the irregular beats of her heart, and her angelic wings shelter you from a view of your surroundings.

With another gentle nudge you separate from the Sugar of Happiness at last. Her pink eyes stare up at you. You wipe the tears running down her face.

"Your eyes are far too pretty to be obscured by tears, you know..." You mutter, smiling softly. A squeak leaves the Bringer of Happiness. A bright pink dusts her face. Her hands go up to her cheeks. She parrots you with a dreamy tone. "You think...my eyes are pretty?"

She smells of marshmallows and berries, you note. It's an intoxicating combination. "What got you so sullen today?" You ask carefully. The question makes her lips quiver. She nuzzles back into you. Her wings rustle. "Why is happiness so fragile? Cookies leave, they get hurt, and they crumble. They always leave, willingly throwing themselves into danger every time."

The bringer of Happiness has always had a bleeding heart; her kindness was laid bare on her sleeve, it was what made her, her. But her biggest weakness shared its origin with her strength. How could one explain the drive for passion to someone who has never experienced passion worth hurting for?

Why take the risk when you can choose to be happy and unharmed?

"Cookies get hurt, Sugar of Happiness; it's just the way life is." You skim your hand through her hair. "Happiness can't be constantly sustained. Accepting that life has its perils leads to Cookies savouring the happy moments as they come."

"But why? Why do they give everything up for temporary joy?"

"Because happiness is not the same for everyone, some find purpose in protecting those they care for and smile knowing they've done just that, while others do find their joy in leisure."

She doesn't answer.

By the way her breathing lowers, you deduce enough to know her consciousness is drifting. You lie down in the smooth-edged pink grass. The bringer's body drapes next to yours; mellow light melts across her slumbering face. With a light touch you swat strands of her rose hair from her features. You roll onto your back. Looking up at the indulgent pink skies of the garden.

Your own eyes droop.

You savour times like this, When the burden of your duties doesn't exist, be it just for a while. When you can believe for just a while that what the common Cookies say isn't true. That you're worth something. Something more than the scapegoat meant to see the cruelty of this world before the good.

You hold these thoughts to yourself. Always.

Your eyes snap open. You see the sky first. The sun meets dusk and mingles into magenta; it's night. You rub away the grogginess. "Ugh...I must have slept at least two hours."

Your vision moves to the side; the bringer of Happiness sleeps soundly. You nudge her awake, and she rouses, wings twitching. Deep scarlet eyes meet yours.

"It's time for me to take my leave, Sugar..." You mutter; the vestiges of her sleep disappear, replaced by despondency. She pulls herself up by her arms. "But, If you leave..." Her tone is crestfallen, barely holding together. She looks down to her lap. "You can get hurt. I've seen it. Cookies, on the brink of their end, their dough crumbling where they stand. Begging to be saved."

She lunged into your embrace, grabbing your arms to dissuade you. "I would never be able to forgive myself if something so terrible happened to you!..."

You cleave her grip off, aiming to pacify her desperation. Understanding yet sturdy in your intent. "Sugar... You need not worry. I'm a virtue just like you, you know? I'm perfectly capable of handling my own. I'll be okay." You hold out your hand. Tilting your head. "Pinky promise."

The Bringer of Happiness feels her heart soar like butterflies at the sight. How could she deny you when you look so happy? She takes your hand in hers.

"Just be careful..." She warns.

The Spire of All Knowledge is an enigmatic sight, with its cream-white walls and soft azure roof paralleling the starry horizon.

The night had veiled the continent; exhaustion starts to press against your thoughts whilst ascending a set of spiralling, pale stairs.

A yawn parts from your mouth, and you stop by a lock-shaped window to glance out to the darkness. Constellations lustre and clouds shimmer in the sky that gazes over the realm with solemn persistence. Hmm... If I keep up this pace, I can be by Salt of Solidarity around midnight...

You continue climbing the stairs.

At this hour, the Spire feels much like a still painting. Sounds not travelling farther than your own footsteps.

These were the only few intervals of the waking hours when you could visit the master of this tower. The plenitude of responsibilities made that clear.

You've always wondered how it must be to possess knowledge that surpasses comprehension. It must bring about a lot of admiration.

But also loneliness.

Your feet stop at the conclusion of the staircase. In front of you is a door.Your hand lifts and connects with the door, producing a low echo. The other side remains quiet. Your brow creases a bit, and you knock again, lighter.

This time, you hear a chair scraping, dim footsteps, and then the turn of hinges. A tiny aperture appears, and a single gold eye peeks out, expression drawn into frustration.

You beam at him, waving quickly with both hands. "Hi Fount!"

His eyes soften when you come into his view. Frustration slipping from his manners as a mask does from a performer at a day's end.

His mouth parts, prepared to answer, but he stops himself by shutting the door; a few clicks can be heard, and then the door opens, fully revealing the Fount of Knowledge standing before you.

He looks carved from the cosmos; that's what you believe every time you lay eyes on him.

The heavens must have taken the most alluring stars and given them life in the form of a Cookie. That's the only way someone could look this haunting.

His satin black robes reach the ground. A lock brooch is in the centre of his chest. Fine aureate fabric falls behind him, blending with the trim of his oversized sleeves. He's wrapped in moons and threads of gold. Hair shining brighter than the night above, his dough is misty blue. His irises are heterochromic; one is a pool of water contrasting pleasantly to the sunlit colour of the other.

He mutters your name, a tired rasp behind his timbre that doesn't go unnoticed by you. The dark circles under his eyes are the thing that grips your heart and tugs on its strings.

You pull the Fount into a hug, arms closing around his shoulders, which go stiff at the sudden embrace before just as quickly relaxing.

The air of blueberry milk hangs onto him. You sense tiredness, irritation even. You pull away.

"It's been a while hasn't it? How are you feeling today?..." You ask, stepping into the bedroom when the Fount beckons for you to come in and closes the door behind you both.

He moves to his desk, where papers and books are a mess, his staff leans against the table, it's golden, in the shape of all-seeing eye, with a magnificent blue gem as it's irises. The Souljam of Knowledge

"My day was alright, nothing noteworthy...if I'm being frank." He replies, picking up a pen and moving its tip across the paper. His writing stretches in fine but strained calligraphy. You stand there for a short moment, observing the Fount's conduct. His eyes fix onto the words he formats, and his other hand tugs at the roots of his hair.

"When was the last time you took a rest?" You enquire.

The Fount halts in his repetitiveness to evaluate the question. He doesn't turn to you. Flames flicker from tiny candles above you, painting string-like shadows over the walls. "I took a rest not so long ago." He murmurs..

You exhale a tender breath and stray your attention around the room; half-opened books lie scrambled, and notes are disregarded in heaps. A flower stands lonely on a table; compassion stirs in you. You walk over to the plant.

They were in full blossom last time I was here... You delicately probe its withered appearance, its bleak leaves slump in your grasp. You look over you shoulder.

"You don't have to do that..." You at last answer back, stealing the Fount of Knowledge's attention.

"Do what?

"You don't have to lie to me."

The Fount doesn't reply.

Sparkling magic sprouts from your hands. The plant begins gaining back its vigour and colour. Its petals blossom from the bud, unfurling into a mingle of blues and sparkles. You turn on an axis and to the Master of All Knowledge.

"If you don't wish to tell me, it's alright; I won't push you, But I don't want you to feel that you need to lie to me." You assure.

His mismatched eyes watch you blankly; he returns to his endeavours with mechanical precision.

"...Why don't they want the truth?" He whispers. You're barely able to take in the question as he hoists himself up; the chair scrapes under the sugar-marble. His hands sweep his research in disarray and off the table. His voice breathes comes out dissonantly. Raw. "I am the master of all there is to know! And yet I get subjected to senseless questions, and when the answers do not please them, they turn their eyes to deceit."

You near him with caution. "Fount—"

He grabs your wrist, tugging you closer to his vicinity, catching you off guard as he looks at you with hopelessness before asking, "Tell me...is truth too heavy for this world to bear?"

You stay quiet, words disappearing before they could articulate into sentences.

At your hesitation the Fount of Knowledge brings your hand up, placing a kiss on the pulse-point of your wrist. Your eyes expand. He murmurs reverently against your dough. "Please...just...answer me." He glances up at you through milk-white bangs. "Please."

You pull your hand away from the Fount's surprisingly firm grip, dough tingling where the his lips had been. You glance toward him once more and falter under the weight of his stare. What are you supposed to say? The demand for your insight is so sudden. So...desperate, like he needs to hear it from you to stay sane.

You massage the area around your pulse. "Well... The Gods said—"

The Fount interrupts you then, sampling the word 'Gods' on his tongue and finding its taste acrid. His mouth pins shut, that blank expression of his ever-present. "The Gods huh? Those Witches..."

You shift on your feet by Fount's rudimentary tone. It can't be helped really, out of all five Virtues, you're the most devout to the Creators' teachings. Meanwhile, the Fount of Knowledge is more sceptical of it, or at least, ever since the Great Creators fell supposedly dormant, that is.

The fount takes a step closer to you, close enough that you hear the unsteadiness of his breath.

"They have long since left us...no longer paying us any mind." He utters, dragging the words out like ink seeping through paper. Your eyes roam elsewhere, not bringing yourself to be able to face the subject with a clear conscience.

You inhale and exhale. "...Cookies often don't want the truth because it can be painful. Fount..." You reply, and he perks up at your answer. You carry on. "And that pain can cause Cookies to reject reality... It's a defence, established to not be forced to face how harsh the truth can be."

The Fount of knowledge blinks slowly. "...So Cookies prefer comforting lies over uncomfortable truths?"

You look in the Fount's direction. His face is ridden with an emotion you can't quite place. You grab hold of his sleeve, and his attention comes onto you and you alone.

"Yes...they very often do. But that doesn't mean the truth is bad." You give him a small smile to level his suspicion. "They might not like it at first, but they need it to grow and heal. Lies provide comfort for a moment, sure, but lies will only ever be lies."

"Is that so?..." He says stoically.

The conversation between you goes quiet. The Fount looks toward a clock in the far end of the room. His face shifts into something close to annoyance. His eyes come back to you and his arms tenderly snake around you, pulling you into his chest, head burying into your shoulder.

"Do you have to leave?..." He whispers, his voice unusually thin. Your eyebrows knit. He must have been keeping track of the time. You conclude, glancing at the same clock. It's almost midnight. You place your hands around the Fount's shoulders.

"I'm sorry...But I do." You say. He holds on a bit longer, his grip tightens in protest. The two of you stand there for a while. You clear your throat, repeating yourself firmer this time. "...Fount...I promised Salt of Solidarity I'd also visit him today..."

That did it. He releases his embrace and steps back. "Of course...of course." He turns his back to you and walks to the door, opening it reluctantly, he pivots to you again, holding the entrance wide; a grin lines his face, not meeting the dullness in his eyes.

"Go on then, soar away into the endless night sky, My little star." He exclaims his speech in the way one would on a stage. Your shoulders slump. You walk up to him. "Fou-"

"Be on your way now—" He circles behind you and places his hands on your shoulders, guiding you over the threshold. "—Lest you want me to change my mind and decide to keep you allll to myself~"

You frown. "Is that a threat?..."

The Fount's grin spreads wider. "It's a joke dear!" He hums. Hand encasing the edge of the door frame. "Bye now!"

The door shuts.

You ponder on his words. What was that about?

The Great Barren was as its name suggests. The plains are coarse and ashen; any hints of life get swallowed by a stillness that only breaks under the cracking of trees, pale moonlight filters between the branches and shines down before you.

Despite its empty veneer. The Salt Flatlands were anything but lifeless. This land was home to the most powerful knights of the continent. The Knights of Kala Namak.

"I'm worried about the others, Salt of Solidarity..." You confess, hands folded in front of you. Your intonation quivers just a bit. "They're behaving...forlorn."

You cast a glance to your side, where the Commander of the Kala Namak stands. The Salt of Solidarity. His armour glimmers so brightly it makes the moonlit salt strewn around muddy paths appear dull. In his hand is a sword of silver; atop is a carved symbol, matching the one on his chest plate. The Souljam of Solidarity His stance is alert and dignified; even as he doesn't respond, he listens attentively to your words.

This isn't the first time you've brought your concerns about your fellow virtues to Salt of Solidarity's attention. He was the one you saw the most apart from the Flour of Volition. This visit, however, feels...different. Like fate is steering in a direction you can't control or prepare for. There's something in the air that clouds your clairvoyance, a pressure you can't fully grasp the concept of.

All you know is that it's never a good sign. To be able to sense evil and impending doom. You've often wondered if it's a blessing or a curse.

"I think...the weight of their duties is becoming too much." You mumble, watching the Commander for any reaction; his helmet does little to allude to any visible emotion. His cape barely flutters in the breeze. Hadn't you known better, you'd mistake him for a statue, yet this unresponsiveness gives you one thing. He's in deep thought.

"...And how are you?" He eventually asks. You trip over your reply, gaping slightly at him.

"I'm sorry?"

"How are you feeling?" He repeats softly. "You've been worried for the others; that is a very noble trait of yours, and I admire you for that." His head turns to you. "But I'm aware you also have a habit of putting your own well being second to last."

You look back forward. Mind racing trying to compile an accurate portrayal of your feelings. How have you been? Your mind's eye brings back that one Cookie and their insult that crept under your dough more than you'd ever want to admit.

You don't deserve to be an emissary of the Gods! You're weak, and one of these days, your naive forgiveness will doom us all!

Your hands flex, indenting in your palm. "I..."

One of these days, your naive forgiveness will doom us all!

Your naive forgiveness will doom us all!

You will doom us all.

You will doom us all.

YouwilldoomusallYouwilldoomuallYouwilldoomusallYouwilldoomuall YOUWILLDOOMUS—

A soft hold embraces your wrist, the scent of salt grounds your senses.

The Salt of Solidarity says your name, pulling you out of your recalling; you glimpse down. Jam was blossoming from your palm, dripping down to the dirt ground. He lifts your hand, inspecting it.

"You mustn't hurt yourself." He condemns, gliding the pad of his glove over your self-inflicted wound. You stare in vacancy. "It's hardly anything dire, Salt." You assure him.

"Still, please be careful with yourself." He pleads, your brain lags for a second, then you laugh. Your dough tingles the longer the Salt of Solidarity clasps your hand in his. You're not yet used to the virtues' fondness and their constant gestures of affection. "You are quite sentimental today, huh?" You tease.

He brings your hand to his lips; his breath muffles beneath his helmet and blows warm against your dough. "That may be so; you are most precious to me."

Your face scrunches up to a line between flustered and mortified, and you pull your hand away. Waving at him dismissively. "Oh, shush, you and your silver tongue."

Your humour drops as you remember Salt's enquiry. You bite your lip in contemplation.

"If I'm being honest...I haven't been feeling—"

"Lord Commander!"

You both turn to the knight who calls out. The only indication of their hurry was the tension in their posture. The knight bows, metal armour rustling with their movements. "There's a situation that requires your presence."

Salt of Solidarity's shoulders square in firm authority. "Can it not be resolved by the other knights?"

"I'm afraid not, my Lord."

"..."

Salt of Solidarity circles back to you, contrition clear as day in his demeanour; you beat him to it, ignoring the twinge of disappointment in your chest for decorum's sake.

"Well, it looks like you need to get back to your commander duties, and speaking of, I should get going as well." You brush off faster than your mind can process. "Don't want the Pixies thinking I got lost."

Your fellow Virtue doesn't say anything; if he can see through pretence, he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he reaches his hand out and tucks back a strand of your hair.

"My apologies that we can't continue this conversation..."

"It's no problem, truly."

"It's already late; I could assign a knight to bring you back to the Cathedral of the Redeemed."

You shake your head. "There's no need. I appreciate the offer."

"Very well." He concedes.

With a last glance from the Salt of Solidarity and a respectful nod from the Knight, they wander off, deeper into the terrain of the flatlands. With solitude filling the unfinished discussion, you straighten your damp posture and go your own way.

You return to your cathedral at the moon's peak. The rush of being on your feet was slipping away, and fatigue was taking its place.

The Pixies greet you; a few scold you for your tardiness. Your mind weighing down on your alertness, you apologise, say you'll keep it in mind and dismiss yourself. Your feet drag over the hard floor. The coloured murals in the corridor dim moonlight. You arrive at your chambers. The door opens with a brash push. A variation of flowers and plants spread around the room. You waste no time falling down on the mattress.

What a day...

Your hair brushes against your face, and your eyes crack open slightly, just enough to see out the lancet window adjacent to your bed, out to the boundless night and stars.

Star.

It's what they nicknamed you.

Stars shine to guide one's path; they evoke marvel and longing in those who look up and bring light to a vast darkness. Is that what you are to them? A light in the dark?

Your eyes flutter.

Stars... They fade slowly when no one is looking. They collapse, disappear in a blink and become one with the darkness they once dispelled.

You wish you could dispel the darkness as well as they think you can. You wish you could take their pain and make it yours. You wouldn't care if you burnt out or broke into a million shards of tiny lights. As long as they no longer have to suffer. As long as no one has to suffer, that's all that matters.

That's all you want.

The following days are busy, as they always are.

Cookies burst through the doors and growl at your feet, begging for your forgiveness. You console them, listen and bestow your mercy, urging the accused to set their mistakes to right. One after another they show up. The time goes faster than you can anticipate.

Evening comes, the crowd of Cookies slims and allows you respite. You decide to send the others letters at the advice of the Pixies that you take a day to unwind.

You curate individual letters to each of them under the declining sunlight. Asking how their day was, explaining your occupied schedule and offering your apologies.

You receive mail back that same evening.

Herald of Change complains that you won't show up in person but reluctantly understands.

Flour of Volition lets you know she'll be actively pursuing enlightenment inside a cocoon.

Fount of Knowledge's writing is thorough, and you take enjoyment in reading about his day.

Sugar of Happiness warns you about overworking yourself, as does the Salt of Solidarity.

Your duties amplify. More Cookies come in, with barely any gap in between. A cookie made a ruckus, swearing you'd pay for offering mercy to a fraud who had doomed their store. Another swung their sword at you for demanding they confess to spreading a damaging rumour.

Letters arrive from the others, and you read them when time permits. Eventually they get farther apart; one day passes, then two, three, and four, until it all bleeds into a full week. You chalk it up to them being busy. It's a recurring happening. It's to be expected.

Another week passes, and another, and another, and another.

The final affront comes one midday. When the Pixies' giggles reverberated through the main hall and the smell of ivy vines and mayflowers was particularly strong. You sat near an altar, knees touching the ground, your hands working efficaciously on carving looping circles onto a piece of wood.

You tilt the symbol above your eyes, light catches its surface, and you observe your progress. Hm... I'm almost done. You muse to yourself.

The blade etches the wood again.

The doors of the cathedral slam open. The hurried running of a Cookie catches your hearing range. You rise to your feet in one fluent motion. Turning to the Cookie who ran in, your craft still in your hands. They look distressed, eyes wide in horror, and a powdery substance is sticking to their dough.

Your eyes narrow. Is that... flour?

The Cookie kneels by you; it's then you notice their familiarity. It's that Cookie who stole crops from a farmer.

"Priest of Redemption! Please forgive me; I made a horrible mistake!" They sob. You compose yourself. Wiring your mind back to the situation currently before you. "What may that be?" You enquire, your tone laced with neither compassion nor condemnation.

"I...there..." They hesitate. "There was a rumour about the cocoon inside the Ivory Pagoda!"

A pit forms in the bottom of your stomach. "Go on."

"And so... I and a bunch of other Cookies went there; we cut open the cocoon, but there wasn't—"

There was a crack and the engraving of wood crumbled into bits, falling out of your hands to the ground. The Pixies' small eyes glue to the scene. Their wings flutter restlessly.

"What did you say?" You whisper to the Cookie.

That feeling is back. That suffocating feeling, so potent it scrapes at your sound mind. You can't give it a place in your rationality, causing it to swirl around and stifle your limbs. Whatever expression you're wearing makes the thief flinch. They stutter out an answer. "We cut open the cocoon, but there wasn't any t-treasure inside... It was all a lie! Please, you must un-"

You cut off the plea. "After that. What happened?"

The thief's body trembles. "I don't... It all happened so fast; there was a Cookie who emerged from the cocoon... The flour of Volition! And then...before I knew it, everyone started turning to flour! I managed to escape with my life just barely... Oh please forgive me, Priest of Redemption!

"Get out."

The Cookie's eyes widen like they can't believe what you just said. "But!...Won't you forgive me?! You said everyone deserves a second chance and forgiveness!"

"Forgiveness doesn't mean you can repeat the same crimes over and over again without consequences. I offered you a second chance; you said you would change your ways. You didn't. I ask you, did you even return those crops you stole?" You take a step forward; the thief crawls back, staying silent. A venomous frown slips to your face. "Did you?!"

The cookie shakes their head vehemently. "Priest!—"

"GET OUT!" You scream; it bounces off the walls of the cathedral, sharp as glass shards. The Cookie covers their ears, the shriek rattling their brain to mush. They scramble to their feet and escape.

Your arms drop to your side. The Pixies eye from a distance, visibly nervous from the change of aura in the air. The words of the thief ring in your ears like a bell. Driven by one single thought, you stride toward the exit. Addressing the Pixies lastly. "Close the cathedral; make sure no Cookie comes in. I won't be back for the day."

One Pixie speaks up. "But...My Priest, the service of today—"

"Please." You press on. Voice breaking. "This is...I need to leave."

"Alright My Priest..."

The Ivory Pagoda was quiet.

The kind of silence that stills the world around and makes sound settle louder. Your brisk steps come to a halt; you level out your shaky inhales while darting your eyesight around; your nerves are spiked.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" You call out. To whom, you aren't certain. Your voice mutes into the colourless space, and you sigh out a worried groan. You indeed smell flour. It hangs heavy in the air. You walk further. The pagoda feels like a realm of its own now, completely detached from reality. You hope the worst hasn't come to pass.

Please be okay, please be okay.... You beg in your inner thoughts.

You hear a rustle to your right. Your gaze shifts to locate the source immediately, eyes narrowing into the distance. There, half-hidden behind a pillar. Stood a silhouette, staring at you intensely. You blink. Cloud-white hair, yellow eyes and paws... wait that's...

"Cloud Haetae Cookie?"

He doesn't reply.

You move closer, with carefulness. "Where's your mother?"

Still nothing.

"...I heard what happened... I'm so sorry that I didn't get here sooner."

You stand just a few feet away at most; you are about to speak again when, in a flash, Cloud Haetae Cookie bolts. You jump, quickly whirling around the pillar, and see him turn a corner. You chase after him.

"Cloud Haetae Cookie!- Please, wait up!" You run into a Ivory brown corridor; you know this path – it leads to the grand temple.

You hurry between the columns and over the polished floor until you reach the descent of stairs. A thick fog shrouds the lower half. You glance at it wearily. You shake it off and make your way down, proceeding each step with deliberation. You need to reach her.

The fog gulps you up in one breath, and you hold your hand in front of you to measure its span. Ugh... If I misstep, I'll fall and break my leg or something.

You hit the ground safely; however, the fog does not dissipate. If anything, it only intensifies, you can't see your own hand anymore.  You encourage yourself to keep on going. There has to be an end. You need to reach... What did you need to do again?  You whip your head around, trying to get a sense of direction.

What am I thinking?? I need to reach... You grasp at the curtain of white. This mist, it instils... You stop. ...Is there a point? I don't see the end.

You grip your head, hands digging into your temples. What?? Stop being selfish! You came here to... You let out a cry in irritation then look to the ground, or where the ground should be. The fog begins to recede, colours return and you gawk as the environment reveals the forest just on the edge of the Ivory Pagoda.

You pivot around. What the?...Wasn't I in the Pagoda just now?

You retrace everything. You were running after Cloud Haetae, You wandered into the mist... and suddenly you felt...empty. Like nothing really mattered. Why?

Caught in the web of your unfinished thoughts, the nature around you holds its breath. You cave, realising trying to make sense of the occurrence, leads you nowhere.

We cut open the cocoon. There was a Cookie who emerged from the cocoon... The flour of Volition!

Your hands clench the fabric of your robes. I need to try again. Determination and worry spurs your body into walking back to where you came.

The fog had now intruded halfway through the hall. Your pace hesitates, sizing up the mist as though it's an encroaching threat. It expanded that quickly??

You put your hand to the wall and concentrate, entering the vapour of white again, measuring the length of each step as you go. The stairs should be... Your foot lowers onto a tread. ...here.

Your eyes sting, you push through. I can't give up now. You prepare to take another step, this time, there's no ground. Your feet lose their stability, sinking unexpectedly into the fog and you fall.

You brace yourself for the impact of the cold floor, you hit dirt instead, your knees aching from the gravel. You stare down at the trickles of jam staining your outfit. You're back in the forest.

Why? What's happening?  You get up, gaze unfocused. Why can't I reach her?... Blast it!

Maybe the others know something...

The weather of the spicelands had completely tumbled over.

There was a storm, unyielding, raging on like a beast unable to be sated. Every time you blink away grains of sand, more hinder your sight. Strong gusts were nothing new in the spicelands, but this was unlike anything.

In the distance you see what you assume to be the temple. You put all vigour into making it to the entrance. Two guards stand on duty as always. They're different ones than the last time you were here. You stride up to them, and they lock onto you with anger. They don't cover the entrance. Just stare you down like a predator would its prey. "State your purpose."

You wipe sand from your hair. "I'm here to visit the Herald of Change.... Is he here perhaps?"

The two spicelings give you a look difficult to interpret.

Why do they look at me like I've grown a second head?

The guard on the left is the first to avert his eyes. "The Great One is not receiving visitors. Get lost." Barely concealed hostility punctuates each syllable of the statement. Their hands flex around their weapons; a slight tremor beneath their dough suggests they're restraining themselves.

Despite the evident command, you plead your case. "Please, It's quite urgent I—"

A blade cuts the air, and you manage to evade it just as it slices where you stood.

"I SAID GET LOST!" They growl. Eyes ablaze with a fervent red, you recognise it in a heartbeat. Jamlust, hatred. Your hand grazes your cheek; pulling it away, you see a thin layer of jam coats your dough. The injury stitches up.

For a second, a fleeting second, everything stops, and something in you whispers at you to make them pay. To rip their dough to pieces and leave them for the next to find. It's such an absurd imposition that it disappears as quickly as it comes. Nevertheless, you dwell on the itch longer than you should, like it had a reason that could be justified.

Before it can get the better of any of your decisions, you admit retreat and leave.

The Cookies in the Garden of Delights are completely out of it.

Their gloss-eyed faces are testament to that, that and their...unresponsiveness. You walk between their slouching figures, waving your hand over their faces to try and get a reaction; they don't give you one, too high on a euphoric trance.

The few that you do manage to talk to speak in sluggish and vague phrasing. Not truly present.

"Um...Excuse me?..." You regard a Cookie gazing lovestruckly into a distance. You cough into your hand. The air is so cloying, it practically clogs your throat with sweetness. "Excuse me?"

"Huh?" The Cookie hums. You school your features to not appear as piqued as you feel. "Have you by any chance seen the Bringer of Happiness?" You question. The enamoured Cookie frowns, eyebrows creasing, the cogs behind their eyes whirl. They shake their head lethargically, turning back to the direction they were staring at. "No... all I see is the love of my life."

You follow their line of sight. You got to be kidding me.

"That's a statue." You state blankly, and they sigh audibly. "Aren't they just so beautiful?"

"It's a statue." You reiterate.

"Huh?"

You hang your head in your hands. Whether you should feel disturbed or angry is a mystery you can't solve. This entire day had outdone your worries by a mile, and the hopelessness of everything was crushing your patience. You hang onto the threads of that resolve with the optimism that things will get better.

Unfortunately optimism can only get you so far when placed beside the cold reality that was slowly shaping. "Never mind...I'll ask the sugar angels." You say more to yourself than anyone.

Sugar Angels, faithful servants of the sugar paradise, prominent for their glistening dough and constant smiles. In the current predicament, their joy was unsettling. The visitors here appear more stuck in a drunken bliss rather than truly happy. You haven't noticed anyone leaving either.

The angels fly around lazily, bestowing the Cookies with juice and endless supplies of jellies.

They do seem the most aware... you think. You catch the attention of one of them. Their floating ceased. And they near you with a disarming coo. "A newcomer! Oh, welcome! Welcome to the Garden of Sweet Delights! Is there anything you may need?"

You maintain a watchful foot away. Flowery petals crunch under you. "No thank you, is the Bringer of Happiness here?"

"Ah... She's currently preoccupied, unfortunately." The sugar angel regretfully informs, it doesn't seem that sincere. "Would you like to enjoy a bath of grape juice instead?"

"No—"

"Do you want to rest on a cotton cloud?" Another sugary angel edges closer to your right, too close.

"How about some Jellies? They're so sweet they melt in your mouth, you see!" Another exclaims to your left. Your ingredients start to fizz. You reject every idea. They don't back up; they probably don't even hear you over their own squawky voices, or they do and they choose to ignore you. "No—I just..." You grit your teeth. They drag at your arm, tug at your sleeves and push at your back in spite of your requests to stop. "Please, get o!—"

"Get—"

Your mind snaps. "GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF ME!"

The sugar angels recoil, huddling together like a flock of cream lambs. Your shoulders tremble. Your outburst crackles through the entire garden. Shifting heads and whispers at the scenes. They can't come to their senses as you vanish in a cloud. You weren't congested enough to stay a second longer.

"H-HEY!" One of the angels snapped, but you were long gone. 

You stand by the entrance of the Fount of Knowledge's room.

You don't knock, not yet. There's something that bothers you.

The door looks... different than you remember.

Its outward exhibition is one rather plain, almost out of place in the extravagant interior of pristine white, azure and hints of gold. You cannot exactly pinpoint why it catches your scrutiny; it's coloured in a solid cerulean blue. The only adornment being the shape of a Souljam carved into the wood at your eye level.

Which is upside down.

Odd.

Why is it upside down?

Everything in the Spire has its reasons; every hall, room, and staircase – everything is constructed with a purpose. Such was the artistic perfectionism of the Fount of Knowledge.

Which means this subtle detail must have been intentional.

Why?

...Maybe you're overthinking it.

You knock.

"Fount...are you there?" Your voice is far lower than you intended. Your body finally accepts fatigue. You've been running around without any rest; it's only natural it would start protesting against the perpetual strain.

Even immortals have their limits.

"I...I've been trying to get in touch with the others, but—" Your eyes close, a breath in, a breath out. "I'm not able to, and I'm worried sick."

there is no reply from the other side of the door. Not even the tiniest creak; the silence is jarring. It feeds into the void that sees you consumed by stress. You knock again. Nothing. Indignant boils in you, and you slam your palm to the wood. Tears begin welling up; you push them down. "Fount...If you're going through something right now that you feel like you have to go through on your own, just know that you don't have to; none of you have to, no matter what it is. I promise. You don't have to tell me if you're not ready, but please just let me know if you're alright."

Quietness answers you. 

You rid the tears welling forth, coming to terms with that what you're doing was a fool's errand. Try all you like; you doubt you'll get more than this. You take the first steps back down the tower when a — shk —  is heard. You turn and see a card tucked under the door. Specifically a tarot card.

It's azure with gleaming golden edges. You pick it up. You have a decent comprehension of tarot cards, their crypticity and prophesied futures.

The Fount had once explained their ambiguous meanings to you in all his delight. This one was peculiar. It showcased a Cookie lying face down, ten swords stabbed into their back, under a dark sky.

It's a bad omen.

It represents the rock bottom of a situation, an ending that cannot be averted.

Or simply, your life will change for the worse.

A shiver crawls up your back.Why would he give you this?

"My apologies, Reverend; Lord Commander is away on personal matters." A knight says, the Order's Bastion, should memory serve. Warm grey hair, donned in steel armour, she stands by two other knights, one with muted pink eyes and one with silver hair.

When you first appeared, they were in stifled discussion amongst each other; you picked up on the heart of their words before they noticed you. Trouble was cascading through the continent. A civil war in the Land of Spices. Bandits in the Flour mountains. Lost contact with Cookies beyond the sugar rush ridge. Lies and rumours spreading like wildfire, inciting hatred and fights. The knights went suspiciously quiet once they saw you, and everything they said, counting their reaction to your presence, all but confirmed your worst fears.

So you stand there. Blank-faced and indulgent. "Do you happen to know when he will return or where he went?" You keep your tone free from ire. The knight with the pink eyes is the first to break from her silence. "We're afraid not, Priest of Redemption..."

You're being shunned. It doesn't take a genius to realise. Their withdrawn stances and split eye contact are the pointers to that.

"May I ask what you were talking about just now? " You soften. And there it is again, that short exchange of looks.

"We were merely discussing knightly duties, Reverend." The cheery silver-haired dismisses.

Your eyes narrow. You resort to glaring down at the grains of salt on the ground, counting them in your mind to try and give yourself an ounce of solace. It doesn't work the way you'd hope it would. "I see..." You mumble.

The knight must sense your melancholy, they cough, clearing their throat vigilantly. It's not them you're cross with, not all. It's the circumstances of your whole situation. Regardless, your vexation craves a vessel to latch onto. Why won't anyone tell me what's going on? You ruminate. The ground under your feet darkens and breaks.

You incline your head to the trio. "Thank you for your time, Knights of Kala Namak. I will take my leave; please give my regards to Salt of Solidarity upon his return." You bow slightly.

"Do you require company back to the Cathedral of the Redeemed, Reverend?"

You smile. "There's no need, thank you."

"Do be careful; these are rough times."

The days merge after that, becoming a blur that stretched in one disordered heap. Nights bleed into day; the hours tick by faster each time you glance at the clock. It all goes by so quickly, and yet you're not putting it to any productive use.

You haven't been receiving any Cookies since you learned about the tearing of the Cocoon. The Cookies have put their anger clear on display for your rejection. You can't blame them for it.

You fall back into habits you once discarded: sleepless nights and missed meals, the Pixies get more and more worried. You kneel by the altar in the main hall until your knees give in, bruising and crumbly, praying to the Creators for guidance. You write letters to the others without success, with the exception of the Salt of Solidarity. But those too get less and less, not to mention that it's been weeks since you've last seen him in person.

You've tried your luck visiting their domains.

That thickening fog has engulfed the entire Ivory Pagoda. Making it impossible to enter. The thoughts of meaninglessness are overpowering. You just hope no other Cookie wanders into the fog, for their own good.

The Spire is so unstructured you can't even find the entrance; the doors are where windows should be and windows where doors belong. The staircases along the walls lead nowhere.

The Spice lands have become extremely dangerous. Spice Tribes fight recklessly, uncaring of others or their own safety. The Spicestorms reek of Jam and crumbs. You now only venture there to aid the Kulfi Tribe.

The garden is as lackadaisical as when you last went there. You do your best to avoid the sugar angels, in case they try to ̶c̶o̶n̶v̶i̶n̶c̶e̶ force you to stay again. You have come across more sugar statues; they're covered in jam.

Candles radiate amber light onto your hunched form. They sputter cinders onto the cold floor, and wax drips into pools.

I can't get in touch with the others.

The cathedral is empty; there's no one except you now. you decided to dismiss the Pixies back into the forest. You need time alone, you need to gather your thoughts. Ink runs across the paper in tandem with your calligraphy.

For weeks now I've tried. None of them respond back. Neither do the Gods; no matter how much I pray and beg, they remain unforthcoming. Is this what Fount was talking about? Have the Gods truly left us to our fate?

If that's true, what have I been devoting my life to?

The end of the quill crushes down on the journal.

What is Redemption worth in a world even divinity has abandoned?

WHAT IS ANYTHING WORTH?

RedemptionKnowledgeChangeVolitionHappinessSolidarity

Your eyes pursue your own movements as you write; your hand shakes, and you don't know why.

Is it all for naught in the eyes of our Creators?

Your chest starts to ache as you pause. Your breathing is unstable. Anger coils your heart between its pinches and squeezes. You've never felt so useless.

WHY DO THEY REMAIN SO INDIFFERENT TO OUR SUFFERING????????

WHAT HAVE I BEEN WASTING MY ENTIRE LIFE FOR?!!!

WHOSE GRACE AND FORGIVENESS HAVE I BEEN PREACHING???!!!

You think back to that azure tarot card. It lies ominously on the side of the altar's table. It's picture facing up. You haven't been able to take it off your mind. The Fount's prophecies have never failed to come to fruition before; to say you aren't ridden with unfathomable dread would be a lie.

You continue. the scribbles lull your thoughts like a blanket.

The Cookies are angry.

They crave vengeance.

They fail to see that revenge is a vicious, unending cycle that harbours nothing but pain and suffering. They fail to see that Redemption is not blind forgiveness but liberation from hurt. It requires work and true desire, yet it offers hope and a road to freedom.

A grimace downturns your visage.

...It doesn't matter anymore.

Nothing I do or say will.

They won't listen to me.

Now that the other emissaries have disappeared, they have shed whatever restraint they once held. Their hatred is now the only thing ruling their judgement.

Perhaps they blame me for their vanishment. Perhaps they want to punish me.

It's the way wrath is; it leaches onto the nearest vessel, uncaring of someone's guilt or lack thereof. A parasite that now has infested the common lot.

How would the Great Creators look upon us now, I wonder?

The doors of your cathedral swing open, accompanied by footsteps and loud voices.

You rise to your feet, not bothering to meet whoever is there; you already know. Cookies wielding swords soon have you cornered. Their voices roar over each other in disharmony. It's then you turn, an earnest smile on your face. "What sorrow has brought you here?"

The cookie who is in the middle of the group steps forward. You recognise the Cookie, the same one who threw that mouldy jelly on you weeks ago. Their scowl not swayed by your calm expression. They yell to the rest of the group. "I knew it! The rumours are true!"

Your hands fall, smile twitching. "Rumours?..."

"While we are suffering from famine and on the verge of war, you are hiding away and shunning anyone who comes for your help!" Another one screams.

What do you say to that? There's a kernel of truth in what they claim, and that's enough to convince them of their right. "And do you believe slaying me will ease your suffering?" You can barely achieve a lucid answer or hide the crack in your composure. A Cookie in the back finds their voice. "The other emissaries have already disappeared, and it's all your fault! You don't deserve to be an emissary of the Gods, because you never were one to begin with!"

You perk up at that, forlornly. "...What?"

The Cookie in the middle direct their blade at you. You stumble back against the altar, hands gripping the end of the table in support. Candles fall over and burn the cloth. It spreads and sets fire to the azure tarot card. It goes up in smoke of blue. Something you miss.

"We see it clearly now!...You're not a virtue...you're a demon! A filthy beast!"

Your eyes move between the crowd at every loathe-filled countenance. You stand back upright. "I understand your anger, but violence is not the—"

You let out a strangled gasp as a blade drives into your chest...right into your Souljam.

You buckle forward, jam creeps up, and you spit the goo out as the jewel on your chest breaks; its light flickers. Your hands glide over the metal when the sword plunges deeper. Tears accumulate and run down your face. Everything hurts. You expel a pained cry at the jam soaking your dough.

A dough-shrilling scream rips out your throat. It trembles around the cathedral, and glass shatters inwards. The Cookies begin to panic, bumping into each other and covering their ears. Dough cracks, and the attackers yell out in agony. The leader fights against the tearing of their dough when your voice dies down.

"What's the meaning of?!-" They couldn't finish as another Cookie jumps at him and screams out in rage.

Your jaw slacks, and crimson jam seeps out your mouth. Evil is rotting you from the inside out. In your earshot are shrieks of fear, screams of pure anger, and the tearing of dough. Within minutes, there's nothing. You weakly lift your head. Cookie crumbs are everywhere; bodies lie in bits, drenched in jam. Some had swords stabbed into them, a struggle of trying to protect themselves from their own comrades, ultimately proven futile.

You pull the sword from your chest, and it clatters to the floor, revealing a gaping slash in your Souljam. You chuckle dryly. What have I done?... The vines of ivy on the walls had completely withered. The smell of doom was discernible. You collapse onto the jam-soaked ground. Black cracks fracture your dough. Blocking your sight.

Please...be alright

That night the sky cried red. The last thing you see is light, your cathedral opening.

You blink warily. Who?

Someone rushes in; you can't see who it is, but they run up to you.

They call your name.

"No, no, no!..."

Their hands cradle your body to their chest, one behind your head and the other around your waist. They're cold. You groan. It's then you make out their voice; they're talking to you, or perhaps the right word would be 'begging'. But who?

"No no...not you too, anyone but you."

Their hand goes to your cheek, stained with jam.

Funny... They're also covered in jam.

"Please look at me...look at me!"

"No, No! What have they done?!"

Who?

You feel yourself get lifted up into their arms. you go lax in their hold. You can't keep your eyes open anymore. But you're getting taken out of the cathedral.

Their last words haunt you as you finally pass out.

"It can't end like this...I can't lose you too."

"I'll save you...I'll save you, all is it the last thing I do."

Your eyes snap open. You see the sky first. It's clear blue. The first thing you feel is how much your body aches.

Ugh...What happened? You rub your face. You remember being in your cathedral, no...wait, that was...thousands of years ago. You were...weren't you supposed to be somewhere? Meet someone? Wasn't it?...

No

Get a grip.

You grunt. A sense of urgency pulses at your dough. But you don't need to be somewhere. That was so long ago, but your memories... It feels like it happened just now. Your brain had thrown open the locks of the memories you had buried and forgotten. Your eyes slide to the side. You're lying in grass. A field...with a clear blue sky. But you don't remember being here either. You pull yourself up, leaning on your arms. Your eyebrows crunch together. There's a certain humidity to the air. Its comforting, however also eerie....

I need to get out of here..scratch that , where is here even?

You get up on your feet, rather wobbly. Witches, your whole body is shaking. You look around, short, vivid green grass goes as far as the eye can see, and the sky is so bright it looks like it's going to start melting any second. A strand of your hair flutters over your eyes; you pinch it between your hand, staring at it baffled by the colour.

Your hair is back to its original colour and length. You put your hands in front of you next; your dough is also back to its original colour. There are cracks in your dough running up your hands, your arms, down your torso and legs.

You place a hand to your neck. There are also cracks there. Your hand glides up. And on your lower face.

What?

You shake your head, and you massage your cheeks with the palms of your hands. You huff. You remember passing out. And...the Silver Tree glowing just a tad too bright... You glance up. Fluffy clouds sway softly. Big, small and...

"Hmm?"

There are five clouds. they're shaped...different. they're shaped like the Ancients' Souljams... But upside down...wasn't his souljam upside down? So it's their Souljams... The Beasts.

Your eyes squint in weariness

How oddly quaint.

An intensity pierces your dough. The skies gaze stripes you to your core, unravelling your soul in layers.

...

...

You can't help but feel watched.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

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Thank you all for all the kind comments and asks, they really mean a lot to me and motivate me <3 To make up for the like 5 month hiatus this book had because my ass had to rewrite the entire plot after the silent salt plot twist here's a 13k long chapter. I have been kicking my feet and giggling writing most parts, I hope you all enjoy it to! 

taglist: @gamerlizzy8421 @tagmepls @berriblissful @shinning-stars @biadoll21 @galaxybear @yuraa0103 @h3apm3ch4n151m @roseapov @zekicosmos2 @thebestguardian @theforgottenheros @senya-zimm @the-bookish-artist

-Faceless