Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For centuries, there had been only silence.  

Shadow Milk Cookie sat motionless in his desolate prison, his eyes closed against the void. He had grown accustomed to the torment of stillness. His once-formidable mind, enraptured with creative mischief, was dulled by the monotony of an existence stripped of sensation. His punishment from the Witches was absolute: no escape, no power, no fun. 

Until now.  

The sensation was faint at first, like a ripple in a still pond, but it was enough to jolt Shadow Milk Cookie awake. His eyes snapped open, slitted pupils narrowing as he searched the barren expanse for the source.

His friends were unresponsive still, unalarmed unlike he was. There was nothing to see, no sign of movement, yet the feeling persisted—a faint tug at his being, distant but unmistakable.  

Shadow Milk rose to his feet. His claw-like fingers flexed, curling into the jagged stone beneath him. For the first time in centuries something had pierced the Silver Tree. And it was no random spark of energy. It was something far more profound, something that made his ancient heart twist into a knot.  

A fragment of his Souljam.  

“Impossible.” He growled. Closing his eyes, Shadow Milk reached out, threading his awareness through the bond that connected him to this feeling. It was similar to casting a spell, he found. At first, the vision was murky, disjointed, but soon it sharpened into clarity. 

He saw a schoolboy no more than sixteen years old, kneeling in the dirt of a garden.  

The boy was small, his blonde hair tousled and his face smudged with soil. His hands trembled as he cupped something in his palms— a fragment of Shadow Milks Souljam, its power significantly reduced but undeniable. 

The child stared at it, his doe-shaped eyes filled with wonder.  

“Where did you come from?” He whispered to himself. He glanced down at the base of the plant he had been tending, a fragile vine that wrapped weakly around a trellis. 

For months Pure Vanilla Cookie had nursed it back to health, watering it daily, shielding it from harsh winds, speaking to it as if it could hear him. And from his efforts, what had once been withered and dying now bore vibrant blue flowers, their petals brushing against his hand as if in thanks.  

He smiled faintly and patted the vine like he does with his sheep. “Did you do this?” he asked, amused. “Was this your way of saying thank you?”  

Shadow Milk’s vision blurred as rage surged through him, snapping the connection in two. He staggered back, his chains pulling taut, and let out a roar that echoed across the void. 

“A child!? A schoolboy— a schoolboy holds my power?” He began to pace, his cape fluttering with each step. “What game are you playing at Witches? Is this your idea of a joke? You have awful taste in humour! I would know!”  

The Witches had already taken everything from him— his domain, his freedom, his magic. Now it seems he has a replacement for his very existence! A thief!

And yet, beneath his anger, a spark of curiosity seeped through the cracks. The boy’s hands had trembled but they had also cradled the shard with care. He had tended to the plant that housed the fragment, nurturing it with a patience and devotion that Shadow Milk had not expected from a clumsy schoolboy. The garden thrived under the boy’s touch, its vitality a testament to his character.

Was this why the Witches had chosen him?  

“Unbelievable,” Shadow Milk muttered, shaking his head. “Giving out shards for every good act like you’re some kind of charity... Is this how you’ll decide on the next Souljam bearer?”

“Some good entertainment is what this is,” Shadow Milk scoffed, finding the very notion ridiculous. “No matter who becomes the next Souljam bearer, I will be bound to them. And when I escape this stupid tree I’ll know just who to go looking for.”  

The void trembled as Shadow Milk let out a dark, rumbling laugh. For the first time in centuries, he felt something he had long thought lost. Purpose.  

“Enjoy your little garden, brat,” he whispered, a cruel all-teeth smile curling up his lips. “You will not tend to flowers for long!” 

—

The academy’s library was quiet. Dusty beams of sun filtered through the tall windows, illuminating the dirt that danced lazily in the still air. Pure Vanilla pushed the heavy oak door open, glancing around until his eyes found White Lily Cookie at their usual table, tucked away in a corner far from the librarian’s watchful gaze.  

She was hunched over a large book, her smooth white hair falling in loose waves that half-obscured her face. Pure Vanilla smiled. He didn’t need to see the title to know what it was.  

“Still reading that book we borrowed ?” he teased, sliding into the chair across from her.  

White Lily jumped slightly, her cheeks flushing as she looked up. “I—uh—didn’t hear you come in.” She quickly closed the book, her fingers resting on the leather cover as if she were guarding it.  

“Relax, I’m not the librarian,” Pure Vanilla said, leaning back in his chair. He grinned. “Besides, you’re not the one who got caught sneaking it out, remember?”  

White Lily winced, her eyes darting to his face. “I still feel bad about that,” she said softly. “You’ve been stuck in detention all week because of me.”  

“Because of us,” he corrected, though his smile faltered. “It’s not like you forced me to take the book. I was the one who was adamant on it.”  

Her lips quirked upward in a faint smile, reminiscing on their adventure. “Yeah, and then you tripped over the ladder and practically handed yourself to the librarian.”  

“Yes… yes…” He said, waving away the embarrassing memory. “Anyway, how’s the reading going? Find anything good about cookie origins?”  

White Lily hesitated, her fingers tracing the edges of the book. “There’s a lot about the origins of Cookies, but it’s… strange. Like it’s not telling the whole story.” She looked at him, her brow furrowed. “I think it’s why the book’s in the forbidden section. Some of it doesn’t match what we’ve been taught in class.”  

Pure Vanilla leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You’re saying the book’s a lie?”  

“No,” she said quickly. “Not exactly. It just… suggests things.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “That we have an unknown purpose”  

Pure Vanilla opened his mouth to respond, but White Lily’s gaze shifted, her expression softening as she got a better look at him. “Pure Vanilla, what happened to your face?”  

“Huh?” He blinked.  

“You’ve got dirt all over it,” she said, her voice quieter now. She reached into her bag and pulled out a handkerchief. “Hold still.”  

Pure Vanilla froze as she dabbed gently at his cheek. Her touch was hesitant but warm. His heart gave a strange little flutter, and he forced himself to focus on anything other than how close she was.  

“You really need to stop rolling around in the dirt,” she murmured, smiling faintly.  

“It’s not like I do it on purpose,” He muttered, feeling heat rise to his face. “I was just… in the garden.”  

White Lily but didn’t press any further. When she finally sat back, her cheeks were a little pink, and she folded the handkerchief neatly before tucking it away.  

“Thanks.” He said, trying to sound casual.  

She smiled. “Anytime.”  

Pure Vanilla cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. “Anyway, I’ve got bigger problems than dirt right now.”  

“Let me guess,” White Lily said, tilting her head. “You haven’t started revising for the summoning test.”  

“Sort of,” He said, grimacing. “Between detentions and, well… everything else, I haven’t had time.”  

White Lily sighed, pulling her book closer as if she might scold him. But then she caught his sincere expression and her shoulders relaxed. “You know, you’re lucky I keep good notes.”  

“I was hoping you’d say that!” Pure Vanilla said with a grin.  

“You need the extra help since you mostly use healing magic.” She sighed, opening her bag and pulling out a neat stack of parchment. She slid it across the table to him, her handwriting was small and precise with diagrams and runes neatly sketched in the margins. Pure Vanilla was beginning to think everything she did was elegant.

He stared at the notes, his head already forming a migraine. “Ah, I recognise… half of this?”  

“Here,” White Lily said, pointing to a section on summoning circles. “The test tomorrow will probably cover the basics. If you get that wrong, you might end up summoning something dangerous.”  

“Oh dear,” He muttered, picking up the parchment. “What happens if I can’t even summon anything?”  

“Then you’ll probably get detention again,” White Lily replied, feeling bold enough to jest.  

“G-Great,” Pure Vanilla squeaked out in response.

She laughed softly, then nudged his arm. “Come on, you’ll be fine. Let’s start with the runes.”  

For the next hour, White Lily guided him through the notes, patiently correcting his mistakes and quizzing him on the meanings of different symbols. Pure Vanilla found himself relaxing into the rhythm of their study session, her quiet encouragement keeping him focused even as his mind occasionally wandered back to the stone hidden in his pocket.  

He thought about showing it to her, about telling her everything, but every time he opened his mouth, the words caught in his throat. Something about it felt too strange, too big to share—at least not yet.  

For now, he let it rest. The stone could wait. The summoning test, however, could not. 

—

The exam room was large, its domed ceiling was etched with protective glyphs that shimmered faintly in the morning light. Rows of students sat at wooden desks lining the edges of the circular space, while a glowing summoning circle dominated the centre. The air hummed with a mixture of excitement and anxiety, as though the weight of their collective nerves had seeped into the very walls.  

Pure Vanilla was no exception. He sat near the back, his knee bouncing so hard that the desk rattled faintly. He forced himself to stop and gripped the edge of his seat instead, but his hands were clammy and his heart wouldn’t slow.  

“Relax.” he muttered under his breath, but his own words did little to calm him.  

White Lily sat beside him, flipping through her notebook to cram any extra knowledge. Her expression was neutral, her posture confident, and Pure Vanilla couldn’t help but envy her composure.  

“You’re shaking.” She said, looking up.  

“I can’t help it,” he whispered back. “What if I mess up? What if my spell fizzles, or worse—what if it does something weird ?”  

White Lily arched a brow, finally turning to face him. “Something weird? Like accidentally exploding?”  

“Not helping.”  

She sighed. “You're right, sorry. But seriously Pure Vanilla Cookie, you’re overthinking it. Just focus on what we revised. You did very well in our revision.”  

Pure Vanilla groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I always overthink. That’s the problem.”  

Before she could offer words of encouragement, a sharp voice cut through the room.  

“Pure Vanilla Cookie.”  

Pure Vanilla froze, his stomach practically lurching. He glanced at White Lily, who gave him a firm, confident nod.  

“You’ve got this!” she said, her voice steady.  

Pure Vanilla swallowed then stood, his legs feeling shaky beneath him. As he walked toward the glowing circle, he could feel the eyes of his classmates on him—some expectant, others curious, and a few gleaming with doubt.  

The professor standing near the edge of the circle gestured for him to step inside. Her sharp eyes bore into him as she spoke. “Your task is to summon a creature. Any creature. We are looking for three things. Confidence, control, and precision. Begin when you’re ready.”

Pure Vanilla nodded stiffly, kneeling beside the circle. His fingers brushed over the runes etched into the floor—lines and symbols he’d studied for hours. He closed his eyes, calming his breathing.  

‘Okay, simple plan.’ He thought. ‘A plant construct. They’re practically harmless, something I can actually handle.’

Pure Vanilla Cookie pressed his hands against the floor, channeling his magic into the circle. The runes began to glow, faint at first, then brighter as they responded to his energy. He focused on the image in his mind: vines twisting together to form a gentle, leafy creature.

Unfortunately, his nerves refused to settle. The image wavered and the flow of his magic faltered.  

‘No, no, stay steady—‘ he thought desperately, panic flaring.  

And then—unexpectedly—the stone in his pocket grew warm.  

The heat spread through his body like a pulse and his magic surged like a crackle of thunder. The runes flared so brightly they almost hurt to look at. Pure Vanilla gasped as the energy within him swelled to an unfamiliar intensity. In the middle of it all, he heard it.

A voice— low, smooth, and tinged with amusement. It echoed in his mind as though someone were standing right beside him, speaking directly into his ear.  

“How about something more… interesting?” They purred.  

Pure Vanilla’s eyes snapped open, his concentration slipping for just a moment. To his relief, then quick dismay, the spell didn’t falter. Instead, it roared to life.  

Tar-like vines exploded from the circle, shooting upward in a tangle of blue and black. They twisted and curled, growing thicker and longer with every passing second. Gasps filled the room as the vines snaked across the ceiling, their glowing leaves casting eerie shadows of leering, slitted eyeballs.  

It didn’t stop there. The vines spread outward, slithering toward the students. They wrapped around their desks and chairs, winding around legs and arms. Some students screamed, others scrambled to free themselves and very few stared in awe.  

“Enough!” The professor’s voice rang out desperately. “Cease this Pure Vanilla Cookie!”

Their concern made Pure Vanilla snap out of his daze, his heart jack-hammering into action. He swallowed back his anxiety and focused all his energy on shutting the spell down, his hands trembling as he wrestled the magic back under control.

It brought him close to tears during his efforts, containing such power was like screwing a lid on an overflowing water bottle. Thankfully, the vines didn’t seem keen on sticking around for longer as they began to retreat, shrinking back into the hellish circle they belonged in and vanishing completely. 

A thick, disturbed silence promptly fell over the room. 

Pure Vanilla Cookie stood frozen in the middle of it, staring at the now empty circle with as much horror as the next person. His hands were still shaking and his mind was spinning.  

The voice. The stone. The sheer power that had surged through him. It wasn’t just his magic—it couldn’t have been. Someone, or something, had helped him.  

The professor stepped forward. “An impressive display of raw power,” they said, tone disturbed. “But summoning is not about overwhelming force. It is about control.”  

Pure Vanilla’s face burned with embarrassment. “Y-Yes, Professor.”  

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, and he slunk back to his seat, avoiding the stares of his classmates.  

As he sat down, White Lily Cookie leaned over her desk. “We need to talk about that after class.” She said, her eyes wide with both concern and…curiosity?

Pure Vanilla nodded. He could still feel the stone in his pocket, its warmth fading but seemingly ever-present. What on Earthbread had he done?

Chapter Text

The school bell tolled, signaling the end of the day. Pure Vanilla Cookie kept his head low as he pushed through the corridors, trying to ignore the sideways glances and murmurs from other students. Their whispers followed after him, each one chipping away at the fragile calm he was trying to maintain. 

“Did you see the vines? They nearly broke the containment wards.”  Someone whispered

“Yeah! He’s lucky he didn’t get expelled on the spot.”  Someone responded.

Pure Vanilla clenched his fists and forced himself to keep moving. He slipped out through the side doors of the school, heading toward the garden. It was the only place that felt safe right now, a quiet sanctuary away from the judgmental stares and gossip.  

The garden was exactly as he’d left it that morning. Rows of plants lined the neatly tended beds. In the far corner, the plant he had nurtured for months stood tall and proud, its vivid blue petals glowing faintly in the afternoon light. For some reason the sight of it angered him.

Pure Vanilla sank onto the bench beside it, taking a deep, shaky breath. 

‘What’s wrong with me?’

The image of the twisted vines—thorny, writhing, and very much alive—was burned into his mind. The way they had erupted from his summoning circle like a hellish spawn of blue and black… 

“Pure Vanilla Cookie?”  

He flinched at the sound of White Lily’s voice, quickly pulling his hand away from his pocket. She was standing at the edge of the garden, her expression soft with concern.  

“H-hello,” he replied, his voice hoarse.  

She walked over to him, her steps careful, as if she didn’t want to startle him. It was a perplexing sight, Pure Vanilla wasn’t used to being treated like a frightened animal. “I thought I’d find you here,” she joined him on the bench. “Are you okay?”  

Pure Vanilla smiled ruefully. “Truthfully, no.”  

White Lily studied him for a moment, her sharp eyes searching his face. “What happened during the exam? That wasn’t just a mistake, was it?”  

He looked away, his fingers curling into fists. “No,” he admitted quietly. “It wasn’t.”  

“Then what was it?”  

Pure Vanilla bit his lip, debating whether or not to tell her. White Lily was his best friend, he should be able to tell her anything but the shame of it all was making it difficult. He looks like a loose screw now. It’s a miracle White Lily didn’t run the other way.

Pure Vanilla sighed. He decided on showing her anyway, White Lily may be weary but she’ll never be scared of him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the smooth, glowing stone. He held it out to her, the faint light it emitted casting shadows across his palm.  

“This.” he said simply.  

White Lily’s eyes widened as she leaned closer, studying the object in his hand. “What is that?”  

“I don’t know exactly,” he admitted. “I found it a few weeks ago, buried in the roots of that vine I’ve been looking after in the school garden.” He motioned towards the plant beside them.

“Is this the one you brought back to life?” White Lily said, amazed at its transformation. Last she’d seen it, it was a pile of brown mush. 

“Yeah,” Pure Vanilla said. “I didn’t notice it until the flowers started to bloom. I’ve been keeping it with me ever since.”  

White Lily’s gaze flicked between the stone and his face. “And you think this caused what happened during the exam?”  

He nodded. “When I started the summoning circle, I could feel it… reacting. Like it was pulling at my magic. And then everything just went out of control.”  

White Lily hesitated for a moment, then reached out. “May I hold it?”  

Pure Vanilla handed it to her without a word, but the moment the stone left his palm, a sharp, pulling sensation flared in his chest. He gasped, clutching at the hollow feeling beneath his uniform. White Lily’s eyes widened in alarm.  

“P-Pure Vanilla!? Are you okay?”  

“I—I feel it,” he croaked out, his voice tight. “It’s like it’s pulling something out of me.”  

White Lily unfurled his clenched hand and immediately returned the stone. She watched intently as relief washed over Pure Vanilla’s face; he let out a shaky breath, gripping the stone tightly.  

“That was… not normal.” She said, stunned. “If you’re feeling something like that, it might be connected to you. To your magic.”  

Pure Vanilla blinked wearily at her. “My magic?”  

“It’s just a theory” White Lily Cookie said quickly, “but think about it. You spent months nurturing that plant, pouring your energy into it. If this stone came from that plant maybe your magic left a mark on it— something deeper than we understand currently.”  

Pure Vanilla stared at the stone. The idea that it might be tied to him on such an intimate level made his skin crawl.

“What do I do with it?” he asked quietly.  

“For now? Keep it hidden” She said firmly.  

Pure Vanilla frowned. “Why?”  

“Because if you show it to the teachers they’ll confiscate it.” She said. “We don’t know enough about this thing to risk letting it out of your hands.”  

Pure Vanilla Cookie hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll keep it with me. But if it causes another accident—”  

“Tell me right away.” She insisted. “We’ll figure it out together. I promise.”  

Her confidence eased some of the tension in Pure Vanilla’s chest. If she’s confident then he has no reason to worry. He gave her a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, White Lily Cookie.”  

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said. “We still have to figure out what this thing is and how to stop it from causing more chaos.”  

Pure Vanilla slipped the stone back into his pocket. It was great having her on his team but… he couldn’t bring himself to tell her about the voice he’d heard during the summoning exam— the low, chilling whisper that had echoed through his mind.  

“How about something more…interesting?”

The words lingered in his thoughts. As much as he felt relieved by White Lily’s hypothesis, whatever this stone was, it wasn’t just a fragment of his magic. He had a feeling it was far more dangerous.

—

The next morning, Pure Vanilla sat at his usual desk in class, a small frown shadowing his face. The gossip didn’t let up, infact, he was certain it got worse. But what gnawed at him most was White Lily’s absence.  

Her desk, one seat to his right, was empty. He tapped his pencil, his thoughts spiraling. It wasn’t like her to miss class. Did she get too caught up researching last night? Maybe she missed her alarm… 

“Pure Vanilla Cookie, are you paying attention?”  

Pure Vanilla’s head snapped up, meeting the sharp glare of his professor. 

“Uhm, a little, sir.” He muttered in response. It was clear from the professor's raised eyebrow that he wasn’t impressed with the answer. 

He sighed, pointing to the chalkboard behind him. Written in crisp letters was the day’s lesson. Monsters: Identification and Elimination.  “Perhaps you’d like to enlighten us, then.” He said dryly. He gestured to a drawing. “What is this?”  

Pure Vanilla blinked. He recognised the creature from his textbooks— a Cake Wolf.

“It’s a Cake Wolf.” he said, sitting up straighter. “They’re common in the forests.”  

“And how would one deal with a Cake Wolf if encountered in the wild?” The professor said expectantly.

Pure Vanilla hesitated. He could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on him, waiting for the expected answer. The usual answer. The one he really didn’t want to say. 

“Well,” he began slowly, “you wouldn’t have to deal with it at all if you don’t get too close. Cake wolves are territorial but they only attack if they feel threatened or are incentivised. If you just back away and leave them alone, you’ll be fine.”  

A few students chuckled under their breath. Someone near the back muttered, “You're right, this guy is weird” which he didn’t appreciate at all.

The professor crossed his arms. “And if avoidance isn’t possible? If the creature corners you or someone else?”  

Pure Vanilla pressed his lips together. He didn’t like this part of the academy’s teachings—the automatic leap to violence, the glorification of slaying anything that didn’t fit neatly into the cookie world.  

“Well, I guess you could… distract it?” he offered, though he knew it wouldn’t satisfy the professor and their apparent bloodlust. “Throw something to draw its attention, give it a way out. You don’t have to kill it.”  

The class erupted into laughter, and the professor raised a hand to quiet them. “Pure Vanilla Cookie we are training you to be prepared for the dangers of the wilds, not to coddle creatures that would tear you apart. A Cake Wolf doesn’t care about your ‘distractions.’ It sees you as a threat. If you hesitate, it will crumble you.”  

“Maybe it wouldn’t see me as a threat if I didn’t act like one,” Pure Vanilla mumbled under his breath.  

Unfortunately, the professor heard him.  

“You think these creatures are capable of reason? Negotiation?” His voice grew sharper. “They are monsters, Pure Vanilla. They exist outside the balance of civilized society, and they must be dealt with accordingly. Your naive sentimentality could get you— and others— killed.”  

Pure Vanilla’s face burned , but he didn’t back down. “Not all monsters are like that,” he said, louder now. “Some of them are just… trying to live. We invade their territories, disrupt their lives, and then call them monsters when they defend themselves. How is that fair?”  

The classroom fell into an awkward silence. A few students exchanged incredulous looks. Someone particularly rude whispered, “What’s wrong with him?”  

‘Such naïveté’ Shadow milk agreed all the way from the Silver Tree. He didn’t expect to tune into Pure Vanilla’s life that often but the boy had a knack for trouble— and to think he was worried he was paired up with a snore! 

Yes, Pure Vanilla was very interesting. Creatures like those— creatures like Shadow Milk have no use for his pity. 

The professor’s expression darkened. “Enough. Your opinion on the nature of monsters is irrelevant to this lesson. Please stay behind after class.”  

Pure Vanilla was about to retort, but let his words die at his throat. He knew better than to argue with someone unwilling to listen. Besides, he's already gotten into enough trouble lately. 

The class moved on, discussing methods of dispatching creatures—Jelly worms, Frogg-o’s, Skelecake footmen. Pure Vanilla barely paid attention. His thoughts kept circling back to White Lily.  

Where was she?  

When the bell finally rang, the other students filed out of the classroom, all keen on throwing him odd glances as they passed. Pure Vanilla remained seated as the professor returned to his desk, flipping through papers with a pointed air of annoyance.  

“You have potential, Pure Vanilla,” the professor said without looking up. “But potential means nothing if you let foolish ideals cloud your judgment. You’d do well to remember that.”  

Pure Vanilla didn’t respond.  

“I’ve also been informed about your recent…incident.” He glanced up from his desk. “No matter how powerful you think you are, you are not above the rules. Now go, I believe you have a detention to attend.”

Pure Vanilla was speechless. He never meant to look ignorant, he just wanted people to understand his point of view! He grabbed his things and hurried out of the classroom, face burning with embarrassment. All he want to do was crawl into his garden and disappear forever.

—

The detention hall was a long, dimly lit room, its high windows letting in the amber glow of the late afternoon sun. The air hung heavy with the sour smell of dust and old books, and the quiet was broken only by the occasional scrape of a chair or the shuffle of papers.  

Three students were already seated, scattered across the room in an unspoken attempt to keep their distance from each other. Despite their spread-out positions, the group leaned slightly toward the middle, their heads bent together in quiet conversation.  

“…I’m just saying, it’s suspicious.” whispered Sour Cherry Cookie, her sharp voice tinged with indignation. She was a tall girl with neatly braided hair and an ever-present air of superiority. “How does someone like him pull off a spell like that? A healer, of all things?”  

“And don’t forget how frail he is,” added Dark Chestnut Cookie, his deep voice barely masking a hint of jealousy. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Every time we’re in combat class, he looks like he’s going to pass out if the wind hits him too hard. There’s no way he has the stamina for something that powerful.”  

“Exactly.” Sour Cherry Cookie agreed, lowering her voice further. “I’ve been practicing summoning magic for months, and I still can’t pull off anything close to what he did. I’m telling you, he had to be cheating. Did you see the size of those vines?”  

“Yeah, and did you see him after?” Violet Ivy Cookie added, fidgeting with her well manicured nails. “He looked just as shocked as the rest of us. Like he didn’t even know what he was doing.”  

“Cheating in an exam with a Professor watching?” scoffed Dark Chestnut. “That’s suicide. But… I don’t know. Maybe he had some kind of relic, or someone helped him.”  

“I heard he’s been hanging out with White Lily a lot lately,” Sour Cherry muttered. “She’s the top student in the whole academy. What if she’s teaching him tricks? Or worse—what if she’s doing the magic for him?”  

The group fell silent for a moment, exchanging uneasy glances.  

“He’s just weird,” Violet Ivy finally said, her tone dismissive. “All that stuff he says about monsters, like how we shouldn’t kill them if we don’t have to? It’s creepy. He acts like he understands them or something. Who does that?”  

“It’s not just weird—it’s dangerous,” Dark Chestnut said, his voice hardening. “This is the academy, not some charity for lost causes. If he keeps sympathising with monsters one day it’s going to get someone killed.”  

The others nodded in agreement, their resentment simmering just below the surface.  

“And yet,” Sour Cherry said, leaning forward with a sneer, “he’s ranked higher than all of us. Makes no sense.”  

The group was quiet for a moment, their collective jealousy hanging thick in the air.  

Then, the creak of the detention hall door shattered the silence. Every head turned as Pure Vanilla stepped inside.

The moment he entered, the quiet conversation died, replaced by an awkward, heavy silence. Pure Vanilla glanced around the room, sensing the shift in energy immediately. The others were all looking at him— Sour Cherry with narrowed eyes, Dark Chestnut with a faint sneer, Violet Ivy pretending to fiddle with her quill but watching him from the corner of her eye.

He glanced their way but didn’t linger, walking calmly to an empty desk near the back of the hall. His footsteps echoed faintly in the quiet, and he slid into his seat without a word, pulling out a worn notebook.  

The group exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier confidence faltering.  

Pure Vanilla didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps he didn’t care. His mind was elsewhere, far away from the petty whispers and sideways glances.  

The voice.

It had been haunting him all day, lingering in the back of his mind like a faint echo. He’d replayed the exam over and over, trying to make sense of what had happened. The voice had been real; he was sure of it. But who was it? And how were they connected to the stones?  

His hand slipped into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the stone. It felt warm, even now, as if it was alive with some kind of dormant energy.  

He chewed his lip. ‘If the stones are amplifying my magic… how many more of them are out there? How powerful will I become?’ 

He tapped his finger against the desk, his thoughts racing.  

Pure Vanilla’s gaze eventually drifted to the tall windows where the forest was visible beyond the academy grounds. The woods were thick and untamed, home to countless creatures—many of which were considered dangerous by the academy. 

Pure Vanilla didn’t see them that way. Most of the so-called “monsters” were just trying to survive, defending their territory or protecting their young.  

An idea came to mind.  

After detention he’ll head into the forest. He’d look for creatures in need, heal them if he could, and see if more shards appeared. Last time his kindness was rewarded with a stone so maybe it’ll happen again.

It was risky, of course. The academy discouraged students from venturing into the woods unsupervised but Pure Vanilla couldn’t ignore his curiosity.

He leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the oppressive silence of the detention hall. The group of students watched him from across the room, their whispers long since replaced by uneasy silence.  

“Why’s he smiling like that?” Sour Cherry muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with suspicion.  

“Who knows,” Violet Ivy replied, her eyes narrowing. “Maybe he’s planning something.”  

Dark Chestnut scoffed. “Whatever it is, I bet it’s not good. Let’s follow him after this.”

Chapter Text

By the time Pure Vanilla Cookie reached the edge of the forest the sun had begun to set, casting long shadows between the trees. 

He hesitated at the tree line, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His eyesight, always less than reliable, made the forest a daunting place. Shapes blurred together, shadows seemed to move on their own and the uneven terrain threatened to trip him with every step.  

‘You’ll be fine.’ he told himself. ‘You’ve been out here before… sorta.’

His fingers brushed against the walking stick he brought along. When faced with a particularly taxing situation that required a sturdy body, he’d bring it along. Its presence was… comforting. 

Carefully, Pure Vanilla entered the forest.  

The air was cooler beneath the canopy and the sound of birdsong filled the space between the trees. Every now and then, a rustle in the undergrowth made Pure Vanilla’s heart leap but it always wound up being a squirrel or a small bird. A welcome surprise.

He walked slowly, scanning the ground for any sign of a glowing stone or injured animal. His mind was buzzing with questions. Were the stones drawn to him, or to his deeds? Were they hidden in specific places, or did they simply appear when the time was right?  

As he crouched to inspect a patch of moss, a soft whimper caught his attention.  

Pure Vanilla Cookie froze. He slowly turned toward the sound, moving as quietly as he could. After a few delicate steps, he spotted the source—a Cake wolf.

It had noticed Pure Vanilla too. Eyes locked onto his, crimson red on blue and yellow. The beast tried to rise but one of its legs gave out beneath it, crumpling to the floor.

Pure Vanilla’s heart clenched. His professor’s scathing remarks were fresh in his mind but when looking at the wolf he didn’t see a vicious beast. He saw an animal in pain, scared and vulnerable.  

“Hey, there,” he said softly, crouching down. He pulled a handful of dried meat he had prepared beforehand from his pocket, holding it out. “It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.”  

The hound’s eyes flicked toward him and it hesitated, its expression wary. Pure Vanilla didn’t fear its approach. He stayed perfectly still, his hand outstretched.  

“That’s it,” he murmured as the creature eased. “You’re safe.”  

The hound took a tentative step closer, its nose twitching. It sniffed Pure Vanilla, taking in his scent. A happy trill escaped it and Pure Vanilla managed to get a good head pat in. Just as he felt safe enough to reach out to inspect its injured leg, the sharp crack of a twig shattered the moment.  

The wolf yelped and bolted into the trees, its limping gait quickly disappearing from sight.  

“No, wait—” He started, but his voice died in his throat as he turned toward the sound.  

Pure Vanilla’s heart sank when noticing Sour Cherry Cookie, Violet Ivy Cookie, and Dark Chestnut Cookie stepping out from the shadows of the trees, three students he recognised from the detention hall.

“Well, well, look who we have here,” Sour Cherry said, twirling her braids in a mocking show of innocence. “Sneaking off into the forest all alone? That’s not suspicious at all, Pure Vanilla Cookie!”  

Pure Vanilla’s stomach churned. He tightened his grip on his walking stick, instinctively backing away a step. “What are you doing here?” he asked, though his voice wavered.

“We could ask you the same thing,” Dark Chestnut said, crossing his arms against his broad chest. “You’ve been acting weird lately. Sympathizing with monsters, pulling off insane magic and now you’re creeping around the forest. It’s about time you told us what’s going on.”  

“I—I don’t know what you mean,” Pure Vanilla stammered. “And I’m not creeping. Just... exploring. That’s all.”  

“Exploring?” Violet Ivy scoffed. “In the middle of the forest? Alone? You’re as blind as a bat and frailer than my grandma.” She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “You’re hiding something. We’re going to find out what it is.”  

Pure Vanilla’s pulse quickened. He wasn’t good with confrontation and the intensity of their words, their stares made him feel cornered. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, an attempt to diffuse the situation.  

“Look, I’m not hiding anything,” he said quickly. “I’m just out here because I like the quiet. Please, let’s not—”  

“Then why are you fidgeting so much?” Sour Cherry interrupted, his eyes darting to Pure Vanilla’s pocket. “What’s in there?”  

“Nothing.” He blurted, his hand reflexively covering the stone.

“Nothing?” She scoffed, stepping forward with a sneer. “You’re a terrible liar.”  

Pure Vanilla took another step back, his back brushing against a tree. “Please,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want any trouble.”  

Dark Chestnut lunged forward, grabbing Pure Vanilla by the arm. “If you’re not going to tell us, we’ll find out for ourselves.”  

“Stop it!” Pure Vanilla cried, struggling against the large boys' punishing grip. He could feel his skin bruise under the force.

“Hold him,” Dark Chestnut ordered, and Violet Ivy moved in, throwing Pure Vanillas' walking stick aside and grabbing his other arm. 

Panic surged through Pure Vanilla like a tidal wave. His heart was pounding, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He hated contact, hated confrontation, hated this. He tried to pull free, but the two were far stronger than him— they were right, he really was weak. 

Sour Cherry stepped closer. Enjoying the sight, she reached for his pocket with a smug grin.

“No!” He shouted. In any other instance Pure Vanilla would have accept his fate, but not like this, not when he’s afraid to feel that hollow emptiness in his chest again. 

As if responding to his anxiety, the stone in his pocket flared to life, it’s warmth rising to a scalding hot temperature.

Suddenly, thin, blue threads of light shot out from Pure Vanilla’s fingertips, twisting and writhing through the air like living cobwebs. The threads wrapped around Dark Chestnut and Violet Ivy's ankles, yanking their feet out from under them. Both kids cried out as they hit the ground hard, the threads tightening around their legs and wrists like marionette strings.  

Sour Cherry stumbled back, her bright pink eyes wide with shock. “W-What the—?”  

Now free, Pure Vanilla could only stare in horror as the strings continued to weave and pull, moving with a will of their own. He wasn’t controlling them; he wasn’t doing anything and yet his magic took the form of a puppet master— ironic considering he was the puppet in this situation!

“Stop! Please stop!” Pure Vanilla begged. But just like the vines that ruined his summoning exam, the magic didn’t listen. If anything, it hummed with pleasure at his fear.

Feeling adventurous, the strings dragged Dark Chestnut and Violet Ivy across the forest floor, tangling them in vines and roots. The two schoolchildren thrashed in their bindings and shouted profanities, but the more they struggled, the tighter the strings seemed to pull.  

“Pure Vanilla!” Violet Ivy screamed, “What are you doing?!”  

“I—I don’t know!” He stammered, tears now falling down his cheek. “I can’t stop it!”  

The stone continued to pulse wildly in his pocket, it’s energy radiating through him like a brewing tempest. He felt his own panic amplifying the magic, feeding it, making it stronger.  

Sour Cherry made a desperate attempt to grab him, to save her friends this time rather than hurt Pure Vanilla, but a string shot out, wrapping around her wrist and yanking her backward. She stumbled, then hit her back against a tree hard . Sour Cherry groaned as her body swelled in pain, it was only worsened by the strings that coiled around her like snakes, tying her to the tree.  

Pure Vanilla squeezed his eyes shut, horrified at the sight of him hurting someone. He balled his fists into a tight ball and tried to pray the magic away— at this rate he’ll accidentally kill them if he didn’t stop! 

In the last moments of his panicked prayer, just as suddenly as it had started, he felt a tingle in his chest and a brush of air nexto his ear, “You really are a crybaby, ‘Nilly.” A gentle voice whispered.

The strings combusted into blinding blue sparks of light. The magic danced in the air for a moment, almost teasingly, then faded from existence altogether. The forest returned to silence, save for the ragged breathing of the three students sprawled on the ground.  

Pure Vanilla opened his eyes, his chest heaving. The stone in his pocket was deathly cold again, a sign that he was free from its control, as though nothing had happened.  

Dark Chestnut groaned, pushing himself up from the ground and glaring at Pure Vanilla with anger. He had numerous cuts and gashes all around his face. “What the hell was that?”  

“I—I didn’t mean to,” Pure Vanilla stammered, stepping back. “It wasn’t me, I swear—”  

“Liar!” Violet Ivy shouted, struggling to her feet. She was covered head to toe in greenery and it did not suit her at all. “You’re dangerous! That wasn’t normal magic!”  

Sour Cherry said nothing, her face pale as she rubbed her swollen wrist where the string had grabbed and thrown her.  

Pure Vanilla looked at their faces—fear, anger, pain—and felt a crushing weight settle on his chest. He didn’t know how to explain what had happened. He didn’t even understand it himself; he didn't know that kind of magic!

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say.  

Without waiting for a response, he turned and ran, disappearing into the darkness of the trees. Behind him, the group watched him go, their fear slowly giving way to something darker.  

“We need to tell someone about this,” Dark Chestnut said bitterly.  

“Yeah,” Violet Ivy agreed, untangling a stick from her hair. “Whatever Pure Vanilla is, the academy needs to know.”  

Sour Cherry didn’t say a word. She just stared at the spot where Pure Vanilla had been, her thoughts a storm of questions she couldn’t answer. 

—

Pure Vanilla’s feet thudded against the uneven forest floor, leaves and twigs scattering in his wake. He didn’t know how far he had run, and he didn’t care. The memory of his classmates—wide-eyed, groaning in pain, and helpless— clung to him like a nightmare. 

He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. But he had. He had hurt them all. And now he was running as if he could leave the guilt behind.

Eventually, Pure Vanilla’s body betrayed him (for the second time today.) His lungs burned, his legs buckled, and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. The forest surrounded him, quiet except for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. For a moment, he felt like he could faint.

Then he saw it: the Cake wolf.

It was lying a short distance away, curled up beneath a crooked tree. Its white fur was dull and matted, its chest rising and falling unevenly. Even from here, Pure Vanilla could see the gash along its flank and the crusted blood staining its coat.

Pure Vanilla found himself crawling forward, inch by inch. “It’s okay,” he whispered, still breathless. “I won’t hurt you.”

The Cake wolf growled weakly, its ears flat against its skull, but it didn’t move. Pure Vanilla stopped just short of it, wiping his face from sweat and extending a cautious hand. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come back,” he murmured. “I’ve made so many mistakes but… this is something I can make right. I can still help you, If you’ll let me.”

The Cake wolf blinked at him, its crimson eyes softening slightly. Pure Vanilla Cookie reached out farther, letting the warmth of his white magic thread through his fingertips, offering healing and comfort.

For a moment it seemed the Cake wolf accepted his help. It lowered its head, its breathing evening out. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, its body tensed. Its eyes snapped open, glowing a bright, unnatural shade of blue. 

Pure Vanilla froze. “What the..?” he breathed.

The Cake wolf let out a deep, guttural snarl then lunged.

Its teeth sank deep into Pure Vanilla’s arm, white-hot pain exploding through his body as he fell back with a cry. Blood welled up around the wolf’s jaws, soaking through his sleeve and dribbling to the forest floor. Pure Vanilla’s nails dug into the ground, his vision blurring with tears.

Even as the pain wracked his body, he didn’t fight back. He didn’t try to push the Cake wolf away. Instead, he started to cry.

“I’m sorry.” he choked out, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry. I’ve messed up again. I don’t… I don’t know how to fix it. I deserve this,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “For hurting them. For being a freak. For… for everything.”

The wolf’s growls faltered. For a second, its blue eyes flickered as if something inside it hesitated. Then, with a shudder, the light drained away. The Cake wolf's eyes returned to their natural red, wide and confused. It released Pure Vanilla’s arm and stumbled back, whining in regret.

Pure Vanilla cradled his injured arm, his blood forming a pool on the mossy ground. His tears came harder now, not from the pain but from the overwhelming sense of failure. “Don’t feel bad,” he whispered to the Cake Wolf. “I know what it’s like to lose control.”

The Cake Wolf whimpered, lowering its head in shame. It took a hesitant step toward him, but before Pure Vanilla could reach out, a sharp sound broke the quiet— the cocking of a weapon.

Pure Vanilla’s head jerked up. A man stepped out of the shadows, he was tall and cut an imposing figure. He wore a worn leather cloak and carried a crossbow, its polished wood gleaming in the fading sunlight. But what truly sent chills down Pure Vanilla’s spine were the man’s eyes.

They were the same shade of blue that had consumed the wolf.

The hunter ignored him, his eerie gaze fixed on the Cake wolf. “Poor thing,” he snickered, a devilish grin plastered across his face.

Before Pure Vanilla could react, the hunter raised his crossbow. The Cake wolf growled weakly, its legs trembling as it tried to stand, but it was too late. The hunter’s aim was steady, and the bolt flew with a deadly whistle.

“Wait!” Pure Vanilla screamed, stumbling to his feet, but the arrow struck true and the Cake wolf crumpled to the ground without so much of a sound.

Pure Vanilla Cookie dropped to his knees beside the wolf, his hands shaking as he reached out to its lifeless body. “Why would you do that?” he cried, looking up at the hunter with wide, tear-filled eyes. “It wasn’t its fault!”

The hunter scoffed, lowering his weapon. “You should be thanking me, kid. I saved you from being torn to ribbons.”

Pure Vanilla Cookie stared at him, his blood turning cold. His voice sounded eerily familiar. He couldn’t figure out where he’d heard it but it stuck like an itch he couldn’t scratch. “He was… aggravated. Scared,” He said, swallowing down his grief. “He didn’t deserve to die.”

The hunter tilted his head, the slits in his unnerving blue eyes narrowing. “You approached him with kindness and guess what? He didn't want it. He tried to kill you, yet you think he deserves mercy?” He gestured to the Cake wolf’s body, clearly unfazed by the murder he committed. “What if he attacked a dear friend of yours instead?”

The thought of White Lily Cookie being the one injured made Pure Vanilla’s blood boil. He’d be angry, would he? 

He shook those thoughts away, finding them too dark to even consider. “It was never his intent to kill me and it will never be mine. Any conflict can be solved through conversation. This is my truth.”

The hunter’s smirk faded, replaced by a hard, unyielding glare. He didn’t like that answer, all amusement vanished from his voice. “Intentions don’t matter. Power does. And if you can’t learn that, one day you’ll come across a bigger, scarier beast who is uninterested in your stupid mercy.” 

The hunter turned with a scoff and disappeared back into the forest, but not before Pure Vanilla could call out “Then so be it! I’m not afraid!” leaving him kneeling in the growing darkness, alone.

He didn’t hate the hunter, Pure Vanilla was smart enough to understand that he was trying to protect him in his own (albeit twisted) way. Just like his Professor who, even though his teachings felt cruel, only wished for his students to be safe. 

Still, the Cake wolf didn’t deserve to die. Pure Vanilla saw it with his own eyes, something had possessed it to turn savage. 

Pure Vanilla couldn’t understand what anyone would gain from this. And so, once healing his arm, he gently picked up the Cake wolf, sighing as it’s head lulled to the side. 

He was going to prepare a grave.

—

By the time Pure Vanilla reached the small clearing just beyond the trees, the sun had vanished entirely, leaving only a faint glow on the horizon. The sky above him was speckled with stars. He set down the Cake wolf’s limp body gently on the soft grass and stared down at the creature for a long moment, his throat tightening.

It deserved more than this. 

With trembling hands, Pure Vanilla found a spot under a birch tree and began to dig. He didn’t have proper tools—just a broken stick and his raw, dirt-caked fingers—but he didn’t stop. The earth was cool and damp, clinging to his skin as he worked. His tears had dried by now, but his chest still ached. The wolf shouldn’t have died. Not like that.

When the grave was deep enough, Pure Vanilla carefully lowered the Cake wolf into it. He kneeled beside the grave, his hands resting on the edges of the disturbed earth. He tried to speak, to say something but the words caught in his throat. What could he say? That he was sorry? That the Hunter was right? 

Instead, he placed his hand over the soil and let a faint glow of magic ripple from his palm. Tiny wildflowers sprouted in the dirt, pale and beautiful in the moonlight. It was all he could offer.

When he finished covering the grave, Pure Vanilla sat back on his heels and stared at the mound of freshly turned earth. He tugged at his bloodied sleeve, revealing the raw, pale mark the bite had left behind. It was a jagged crescent, like a ghost of the wolf’s teeth etched permanently into his skin. Beside it was fresh bruises from Dark Chestnuts punishing grip.

He’d tried to heal the wound, pouring every ounce of magic he had left, but it hadn’t been enough. So the scar remained, a constant reminder of his failure.

“I’m sorry,” Pure Vanilla whispered. He didn’t know who he was apologizing to— the Cake wolf, the bullies, himself. Maybe all of them.

Whatever this magic was— it wasn’t going away. He could feel it lurking beneath his skin, waiting to burst free again. The hunter’s words echoed in his mind, sharp and unforgiving.

“One day you’ll come across a bigger, scarier beast who is uninterested in your stupid mercy.” 

Pure Vanilla clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. Maybe the hunter was right about one thing. He will come across scarier monsters during his lifetime, but he won’t resort to senseless murder.

“It’s easy to be cruel, but hard to be kind. So I choose kindness. It’s my strength.” He admitted softly. His voice cracked on the last word, but there was no one there to hear it. Only the night and the memory of the Cake wolf, now resting beneath the earth.

Chapter Text

Shadow milk Cookie sat motionless in the void of the Silver tree. Here, in the silence, he could think. He could plan. And, through the tenuous thread of their shared Souljam, he could watch Pure Vanilla Cookie.

The boy was kneeling in the dirt, his hands trembling as he pushed soil over the lifeless body of the Cake wolf. Each movement was careful, reverent. It was as if he were burying a dear friend instead of a creature that had attacked him mere hours before.  

Shadow Milk’s lip curled in disdain at the sight. ‘This boy is a goner.’ 

The world would chew him up and spit him out. He had seen it happen to others like Pure Vanilla before— those soft-hearted fools who believed the best in everyone, who offered kindness only to have it met with cruelty. Pure Vanilla’s naivety wouldn’t protect him. It would destroy him.  

Shadow Milks nails tapped against the marble floor of the silver tree. He hated to admit it but… the boy reminded him of himself. 

Long ago, Shadow Milk had been just like Pure Vanilla. A scholar eager to learn and eager to help. He had thought knowledge was the key to fixing the world’s flaws. He had taught others, healed where he could and also believed in a greater good.  

But knowledge wasn’t salvation. It was a curse. The more he learned, the more he saw the truth of the world—a truth that no amount of kindness could change. He had seen it for what it was: cruel, unforgiving, ruled by power and fear. His illusions had shattered, and with them, his mercy.  

Shadow Milk's gaze lurked on Pure Vanilla’s arm, the scar was an irritating sight.

He had been assaulted, cornered by those bullies who called themselves his peers. Yet, even now, he didn’t hate them. Shadow Milk could feel it through their bond—there was no anger in the boy’s heart, only sadness. As if he had failed them!

Shadow Milk scoffed. “You’re such a fool, ‘Nilly. You think your kindness will shield you? It will only make you a bigger target.”  

And then there was the Cake wolf.  

Shadow Milk may have pulled a few strings to ensure the beast tore into the boy— what is a philosophy if it is not challenged? And in all his years of dealing with pacifists, every single one of them abandoned their faith when dealing with unrequited kindness. Pure Vanilla, however, didn’t. 

“I deserve this. For hurting them. For being a freak. For… for everything.”

Sure, Shadow Milk had gotten what he wanted— Pure Vanilla’s authentic reaction to his morals being questioned— but he didn’t like what he saw. 

Such a lack of self esteem, self preservation, self— everything! Gosh, it almost made him feel bad! To yield like that to the beast… Shadow Milk hated to admit it, but his idea of who Pure Vanilla was, was incorrect. 

He wasn’t kind with conditions, Pure Vanilla stubbornly stuck to what he said during the lecture in class. Normally those who proclaim themselves righteous only do so when faced with rewards or if they’d never have to put their money where their mouth is.

“Genuine compassion,” Shadow Milk hummed with interest. “So rare. So pure! You can’t blame me for hesitating back there, can ya?” He said aloud, thinking back to when he possessed the Cake wolf, then lost control.

It got him thinking harder. How would Pure Vanilla treat someone as twisted as him? He’s practically irredeemable. He is a far bigger beast than any other monster on Earthbread, and he’s not exactly known for productive conversation!

Pure Vanilla’s response to the wolf’s death was answer enough. The boy had mourned the creature, wept for it. He had whispered prayers over its body, even as the blood it spilled dried on the forest floor. Poor lamb had a bleeding heart through and through. Perhaps he’ll try to pander to the softer sides of Shadow Milk?

Shadow Milk rolled his eyes, but the ones connected to his hat squinted gleefully. He swatted them all as punishment, then huffed, “Damn eyeballs…”

He couldn’t fathom acting the way Pure Vanilla did. He would never have wept for a beast that tried to kill him. He would have ensured its death was a lesson, a message.  

And yet…  

‘Then so be it! I’m not afraid!’

Shadow Milk leaned back, his nails steepled beneath his chin. If Shadow Milk could guide the boy, twist that naive compassion into something sharper, something stronger… perhaps Pure Vanilla could see the truth of the world.  

His gaze darkened. Through their soul connection, he felt the boy’s sadness, his pain, his hope . But buried beneath it all, there was something else. A flicker of anger. A shadow of doubt.  

Shadow Milks smirk returned. “Purity can be easily corrupted!” he cackled. “Don't worry though, I’ll help you. When the time comes, you’ll see how ugly the truth can be, and the beauty of Deceit. I’ll make sure of it.”  

—

The forest clearing was quiet as the morning sunlight filtered through the trees. Pure Vanilla had made the journey to visit the Cake Wolf before classes started, his hands cradling a fresh bouquet of flowers from his garden. The colours were vibrant —golden yellows, deep blues, and soft whites— delicate blooms he had spent weeks nurturing. It felt right to use them for this moment.

He knelt by the grave, taking a moment to enjoy the gentle breeze that stirred in the air. It carried the faint scent of earth and leaves. With a deep sigh, he carefully placed the flowers atop the mound, smoothing the soil around them.  

“I don’t know if this makes up for anything,” he murmured. “But I hope it brings some peace.”  

His bouquet, combined with the small flowers he magically bloomed yesterday, pained a beautiful visage of colours. For a moment he stayed there, head bowed, enjoying the company. Then something unusual caught his eye— a faint glimmer from beneath the flowers.  

Pure Vanilla blinked, leaning in closer.  

Unmistakable glimmers of blue ripples through cracks in the soil. Recognising what this could mean, his heart began to race as he carefully brushed the dirt aside. The glimmer grew brighter the deeper he dug until eventually, it revealed yet another shard of stone— glowing with the same ethereal light as the first.  

“Unbelievable…” he whispered in awe.

The instant his fingers curled around the shard, a wave of warmth surged through Pure Vanilla. It wasn't overwhelming for once, but comforting. It spread through his body like sunlight on a cold morning, easing the tension in his shoulders and the ache in his chest.  

His sleeve felt tight, and when he rolled it back, his breath caught. Blue magic swirled over his skin, circling the mark left by the Cake wolf. The jagged scar glowed faintly as the magic wove through them, almost like threads sewing a wound shut.  

The sensation had him smiling softly— it was gentle, like a hand brushing over his skin.  

Pure Vanilla watched as his scar faded, replaced by smooth, unmarked flesh. But the magic didn’t stop there. It traveled further up his arm, wrapping around his wrist where bruises from Dark Chestnuts' punishing grip had darkened his skin. The marks disappeared under the touch of the magic, as though they had never been there.  

Soon the heat moved up to his chest, then his neck and finally to his forehead. Pure Vanilla shivered at the sensation. It was like someone had placed a tender hand against his brow. The tension lingering behind his eyes faded, leaving him feeling lighter, more at ease.  

When the magic finally receded, Pure Vanilla sat back on his heels, stunned.  

“What… what just happened?” he gawked.  

His arm felt different— stronger, almost. He flexed his fingers experimentally and noticed a strange new confidence in his movements.  

Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the first shard. It glowed faintly in the morning light, pulsing in rhythm with the one he had just found. On impulse, he held them close to each other and found the edges aligned perfectly, though the shards were still too small to reveal the full shape of whatever they were meant to be. So far, the connected pieces formed a rounded curve.  

Pure Vanilla stared at them, the implications swirling in his mind. ‘How many shards are there? And what are they supposed to form?’

His thoughts spiralled in his head as he stood, slipping the stones back into his pocket. In the end, he decided to return back to school. He promised to go to White Lily if anything strange occurred, and he is long overdue.

—

Pure Vanilla hesitated for a moment before knocking on White Lily Cookie’s dorm door. He could hear the faint rustling of papers inside, followed by hurried footsteps. The door swung open, revealing the girl. Her usually neat hair was tied up in a protective hairstyle, and her outfit was a mix of pyjama's and uniform.

"Pure Vanilla, You’re up early! I was just getting ready for…” She stopped mid-sentence, taking in his disheveled appearance— the shadows under his eyes, the tension in his posture.  

“Come in” she said quickly.  

Pure Vanilla stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. White Lily’s dorm was small but cozy. Books were stacked in precarious towers by her bedside. Candles flickered gently, their soft light making the room feel safe — like a hidden corner of the world where nothing bad could reach him. 

“I missed class yesterday,” she admitted, sitting cross-legged on her bed. “I wanted to look into the stone. I thought maybe I’d find something in the library but…” She groaned, rubbing her temple. “Nothing useful. I’m sorry.”  

Pure Vanilla shook his head, offering a tired smile. “No, it’s okay. I—I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”  

Something in his voice must have given away his distress, because White Lily immediately straightened. “What happened?”  

Pure Vanilla hesitated. He had kept all of this bottled up since last night, and now that he finally had the chance to talk about it, he realised how much he needed to.  

“Sour Cherry, Dark Chestnut and Violet Ivy… I, uhm, I was trying to find more stones. They followed me into the forest after detention. They—” He exhaled sharply, rubbing his arm as if he could still feel their hands on him. “They cornered me, asking questions about the summoning exam, about why my magic went out of control.”  

White Lily’s eyes darkened.  

“I tried to de-escalate, but they wouldn’t let me go.” His hands curled into fists at the memory. “I panicked. And then… the stone activated. It protected me. I don’t know how, but I ran off.”  

White Lily’s brows furrowed. “They probably went straight to the headmaster.”  

Pure Vanilla nodded grimly. “But that’s not all.” He took another deep breath, steadying himself. “After I ran, I found a wounded Cake wolf that the group initially scared off. I—I tried to help it, but it attacked me.”  

White Lily’s breath hitched. “You’re okay, right?”  

“I was bitten, yeah, but before it could do any more damage…” He grimaced at the memory of the ruthless man. “A Hunter appeared.”  

White Lily stiffened, eyes widening.  

“He killed the wolf,” Pure Vanilla continued, his voice now laced with bitter frustration. “I tried to stop him, but he didn’t listen. I—I buried it last night.”  

He pulled the second shard from his pocket. “I went to visit it this morning and then I found this. It was in the grave.”  

White Lily was happy to observe it from afar, not wanting another reaction to take place within Pure Vanilla. “Another one?”  

Pure Vanilla nodded. “And when I touched it… it healed me.” He rolled back his sleeve, showing the spot where the bite had been. The skin was as smooth as always. “Not just that. My bruises too. It felt like… like someone touching me, but warm. Gentle.”  

White Lily looked at him, then, really looked at him. The way his shoulders tensed as he spoke, the way his fingers fidgeted as if his body still carried the weight of the past day. She carefully shuffled closer and, without another word, wrapped her arms around him.  

Pure Vanilla froze.   

White Lily wasn’t the type to hug people often, and neither was he, but right now, in the quiet of her dorm, it was exactly what he needed. He let himself relax, just a little, into the warmth of her embrace, closing his eyes for a brief moment.  

“It must have been terrifying,” she murmured. “Going through all of that alone.”  

Pure Vanilla swallowed hard, not trusting himself to speak.  

After a moment, White Lily pulled back, giving him space. “You need to be careful, Pure Vanilla. Those jerks definitely reported you to the headmaster. And now that you don’t have any injuries to show for it, you’ll look even more suspicious.”  

Pure Vanilla ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “Great. W-What do I even say?”  

She frowned, deep in thought. “We need a plan. Something that explains why they followed you, why they’re making accusations. If they don’t have proof, then it’s their word against yours.”  

Pure Vanilla sighed. “I’m already on thin ice with the school, they’ll definitely believe a story about my magic going crazy.”  

White Lily tapped her fingers against her knee, thinking. “They're relying on their numbers. If enough people say one thing, it starts to sound like the truth. So here’s what you’ll need to do…”  

—

The moment Pure Vanilla entered his first class of the day, as if on queue, he was told to go to the headmasters office. Normally Pure Vanilla would be sweating bullets at the mere mention of the headmaster, but after his talk with White Lily, he found the strength within him to swallow down all fear. 

The office was stiff with tension. The headmaster sat behind his grand mahogany desk, his expression tinged with what could only be disappointment. Lined against the opposite wall were the three students— Dark Chestnut, Violet Ivy, and Sour Cherry. 

Dark Chestnut and Violet Ivy both had plasters on their faces and arms, even in places Pure Vanilla was sure he didn’t injure, while Sour Cherry stood slightly apart, hand over her wrist, her lips pressed into a tight line.  

Pure Vanilla kept his face neutral, his hands folded neatly in front of him as he took a seat.  

The headmaster sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Do you know why you’re here, Pure Vanilla Cookie?”  

“Yes, Headmaster.” He replied, his voice noticeably steady.  

“These three students have accused you of attacking them with magic in the nearby forest,” He continued, watching him carefully. “What do you have to say about this?”  

Pure Vanilla inhaled. The alibi he made with White Lily counted on the bullies leaving holes in their story to negate them from trouble. All Pure Vanilla had to do was cast light on it. Usually lying, or half-lying, made his stomach churn, but when he opened his mouth, his words came out unnaturally smooth.  

“I went into the forest to prove something,” he said, completely avoiding any mention of the stone— the real reason he was there. “In class, my professor claimed that Cake wolves act purely on instinct, that they lack reason and deserve to be killed if encountered. I disagreed. I wanted to prove that they could understand kindness.”  

The headmaster tilted his head, intrigued. “Go on.”  

“I found an injured Cake wolf,” Pure Vanilla sighed. “I was trying to heal it when they”—he gestured to the bullies with a frown— “arrived. They startled the Cake wolf and then started questioning me. I-I panicked, and my… magic reacted.”  

Dark Chestnut scoffed. “Your magic was a targeted attack. Assaulting students is grounds for expulsion. I mean, look at me! For him to injure someone of my skill and size requires intent!”  

Violet Ivy nodded. “And all because we asked him about the summoning exam. This school is known for being competitive, sir, was it so wrong to ask him how he managed to do that? We were beginning to think he cheated!”  

Pure Vanilla turned his gaze toward them, calm and unwavering. “Yes, I showed an impressive display of power, but the entire point of the exam was to control our summons. I failed. What use would a relic, or someone else’s help, be if I still couldn’t control my magic?” 

Sour Cherry Cookie, who had remained silent until now, lowered her gaze. Violet Ivy nudged her, as if expecting her to back them up, but she said nothing.  

Pure Vanilla pressed on, sensing the momentum shifting. “Stress is a common trigger for magical outbursts, isn’t it? You can’t control what happens during them but you three thought it was wise to pressure a student who was known for being unstable. Why are you surprised that you got hurt?”  

The principal hummed in understanding, “That is a valid point, Pure Vanilla. We let you walk off with a failure and nothing more because you are not the first, and certainly not the last student to cause a mess.” The headmaster then turned his attention to the three cookies, “So? Why did you lot pursue him?”

“Because we thought something malicious was happening.” Dark Chestnut snapped. “You’ve been acting off all week! Sympathising with monsters, suddenly being great at magic when you’re just a healer!” 

Pure Vanilla’s gaze sharpened. “And yet, you followed me into a secluded area. If you truly believed I was dangerous, why corner me alone instead of reporting it to the teachers?”  

Dark Chestnut mouth opened, then shut.  

Jealousy. That’s why.

White Lily had initially figured it out by putting two and two together. And because Pure Vanilla never actually did anything wrong, only reacted wrongly, his goal was to lighten his inevitable punishment as best he could by sprinkling some white lies, withdrawal of truth, and context.  

“Other students have asked me about the exam,” Pure Vanilla lied, all people did was stare at him oddly and gossip. “Some have even confronted me. But they did it in class, in the hallways, where it was safe. Why did you three think following me into the forest was a good idea?”  

The headmaster exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “This situation is more complicated than I expected.” He tapped his fingers on his desk before fixing his gaze on all of them. “But I think I’ve heard enough. Regardless of who provoked whom, the fact remains that both sides showed reckless behaviour.”  

Pure Vanilla’s stomach twisted. He already knew where this was going.  

“Pure Vanilla cookie, while your reasoning was noble, venturing into the forest alone was dangerous and irresponsible. Not to mention you still assaulted your classmates. You’re one of our finest students, I see no reason why you’re getting into so much trouble recently. You’ll serve an extra three days in detention, personally, in my office. Consider this your last and final warning.”  

Pure Vanilla nodded, accepting the punishment without argument.  

The headmaster then turned to the three students. “And you three—taking it upon yourselves to investigate and cornering a fellow student was equally reckless. You will also serve extra detention and be put on your last warning.”  

Dark Chestnut and Violet Ivy exploded in outrage. “That’s not fair! You’ve got it all wrong!”

“Would you like me to extend it?” He snapped back, his voice deceptively calm.  

The silence was deafening.

The headmaster sighed. “That is my final decision. Pure Vanilla, I’ll speak with you later. For now you are dismissed.”  

Pure Vanilla stood quickly, not sparing the three cookies so much as a glance despite them burning holes into his back as he left the office. 

He had lied, or withheld important information. And he had done it well. It should have felt wrong. He should’ve stuttered all over his words like the mess he was at the exam. It should have made him uneasy, keeping the stones a secret. 

But it didn’t. Instead, he was unsettled for a different reason.

Deceit had never felt so easy.

Chapter Text

The sun cast golden light through the academy’s courtyard as Pure Vanilla walked toward their usual meeting spot. His body was still tense from the confrontation in the headmaster’s office, but as soon as he spotted White Lily waiting by the garden benches, a wave of relief washed over him.  

She was sitting with her arms placed nearly on her lap, happily observing the white lily plants Pure Vanilla had grown (for her, but that's a secret.) The moment her eyes landed on him, her brows lifted in silent question.  

“How did it go?” she asked as soon as he was close enough.  

Pure Vanilla exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “It went fine. I got extra detention in the headmaster’s office and so did the others, that’s it.”  

White Lily sighed in relief. “That’s way better than I thought it would be.”  

He nodded, but his expression remained conflicted. He slumped onto the bench beside her, staring at the ground.

White Lily tilted her head. “You don’t seem happy about it.”  

Pure Vanilla hesitated before murmuring, “I lied, White Lily.” He fidgeted with his sleeve. “And not just any lie—a convincing one.”  

White Lily blinked, tilting her head. “Okay…? That was kind of the plan, wasn’t it? Plus, it was a white lie. Not a malicious one.”  

“I know, but…” He sighed, pressing his palms together. “It just makes me wonder. If I could lie that easily, does that mean I’ll start doing it more? It’s just—” He exhaled sharply. “I don’t want to become someone who does that.”  

White Lily’s expression softened. “Pure Vanilla,” she said gently, nudging his shoulder. “Lying for no reason is one thing. Lying to protect yourself? That’s different.”  

Pure Vanilla glanced at her with uncertainty.  

She gave him a knowing look. “Think about it. If you had told them the truth, what would have happened?”

“They would’ve taken the stone,” he admitted.  

“And do you think they’d give it back?”  

Pure Vanilla didn’t answer. He already knew the answer was a resounding no.

She smiled a little, placing a hand on his knee. “You had no choice. And besides, those bullies deserved to be put in their place. They had no right to corner you like that.”

Pure Vanilla let her words sink in. Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

She smiled warmly. “It’s nothing, really.”  

Pure Vanilla huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. Then, after a moment, he glanced at her, looking a little embarrassed. “Thanks, White Lily but…I feel like I’m always relying on you to talk sense into me. You’ve been my backbone a lot.”  

White Lily shrugged, but her eyes were warm. “You’re mine too, you know.”  

Pure Vanilla raised an eyebrow. “I am?”  

She nodded, looking at him with something unreadable in her expression. “You’re always helping me, even if you don’t realise it.”  

Pure Vanilla blinked, thrown off by the sincerity in her voice. He felt warmth creep up his neck, flustered by the sudden praise. “O-oh. Well… that’s good, I guess.”  

White Lily giggled at his reaction, nudging him playfully. “See? You’re more important than you think.”  

He smiled, a small but genuine one. The weight on his shoulders didn’t seem so heavy anymore. White Lily always had a way of easing his anxiety. She made him feel less like a screw-up. For a moment, they simply sat there in comfortable silence, the garden slowly swaying in the breeze.

—

The days that followed were an uneventful, much needed blur. His detentions, which he had dreaded at first, turned out to be far better than expected. The headmaster barely spoke to him, only glancing up from his paperwork occasionally to ensure that Pure Vanilla was still there.

For the most part, Pure Vanilla was left alone, able to study in peace—a privilege, really. He made progress on his assignments, reviewed some spells, and even had time to sketch out ideas for new plants in his garden. 

It was almost… pleasant.  

But that peace shattered the moment he decided to pay a visit to the graveyard one day.  

Pure Vanilla’s heart sank to his stomach the instant he saw it.  The grave he had carefully made for the Cake wolf— the one he had buried with respect— was ruined.  

The flowers he had placed there, ones he had grown with care from his own garden, were crushed under what looked like careless boots. The soil had been kicked up, and the small tombstone he had left as a marker was tossed aside, cracked in half.  

Pure Vanilla’s breath hitched as he stepped forward, staring at the wreckage.  

Why would someone do this?  

His fingers curled into tight fists. He wanted to be angry, wanted to lash out at whoever was responsible— but mostly he felt sick. This was an insult not just to him but to the Cake Wolf that had lost its life.  

Pure Vanilla Cookie bent down, trying to salvage whatever he could, but the petals had been ground into the dirt. There was nothing left. He left the graveyard that day with a heavy heart.  

But the cruelty did not stop there.  

The next morning, when Pure Vanilla arrived at his garden, he found destruction waiting for him.  

Pots were shattered and thrown across the stone pathways, their broken edges sharp like teeth. The herbs he had been nurturing were ripped from the soil, their roots left exposed and gasping for life. Vines had been slashed, delicate flowers trampled. His watering can had been tossed aside, its handle bent.  

He felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. His hands trembled as he knelt, touching the broken remains of a lavender plant he had raised from a seed. It had been growing so well, he was sure this summer it would bloom into a beautiful thing.

Gone. All of it.  

A lump formed in his throat. His vision blurred.  

Who did this?  

No. He already knew. The bullies. This had to be their doing. They weren’t satisfied with the punishment the headmaster had given them. No, they wanted him to suffer. And the worst part is, they successfully hit him where it hurt. 

Pure Vanilla clenched his jaw, willing himself not to cry. He refused to give them the satisfaction.  

Instead, he spent the entire day cleaning up the mess, replanting what he could and collecting what little remained of his shattered pots. A lot of it went to the bin but he was lucky to have spare.

Pure Vanilla’s hands were covered in dirt and small cuts from the broken ceramics, but he didn’t stop. He worked until the sun dipped below the horizon, until exhaustion finally weighed him down. Still, even as he sat there, staring at the ruined garden, he couldn't shake the feeling deep in his chest—  

A simmering, bitter anger.  

And far away, in the depths of his prison, Shadow Milk Cookie felt it too.

—

Pure Vanilla Cookie walked through the academy halls with purpose, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He had to report this situation. If the bullies wanted to keep tormenting him, then they would have to face consequences. They were stupid if they thought they could get away with this.

The headmaster’s office was just down the hall now. A few more steps and—  

"Pure Vanilla Cookie, wait!” 

A voice called out from behind him.  

Pure Vanilla turned, surprised to see Sour Cherry Cookie standing there. Out of all his tormentors, Sour Cherry seemed the most affected by the incident. Pure Vanilla had… hurt her the most and yet she barely defended herself in the headmasters office.

And here she was now, looking nervous, her fingers twisting together.  

Pure Vanilla narrowed his eyes, finding it hard to keep his manners intact. "What do you want?"  

Sour Cherry Cookie hesitated, not used to the boy being so cold. She took a deep breath. "I’m sorry.”  

He blinked. Had he heard that right?  

She looked up at him, sincerity shining in her eyes. "I mean it, Pure Vanilla Cookie. I… I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened. About what we did. And I just—I’m sorry for pushing you to the limit."  

Her words were genuine, but Pure Vanilla wasn’t so easily convinced. "Why now?" he asked cautiously. The timing seemed a bit too coincidental.  

Sour Cherry sighed, looking away. "Now that I look back on everything, I realise I’m jealous of your talent." She hesitated before adding, "I was hoping maybe we could be friends instead?"  

Pure Vanilla Cookie studied her carefully. She looked nervous. He couldn’t tell if this was just her being a good actor. Sure, she seemed genuinely shook up and Pure Vanilla felt the guiltiest when it came to her…

Still, he couldn’t just forget his anger.  

"Did you destroy my garden?" he asked bluntly. "Or the Cake wolf’s grave?"  

Sour Cherry’s eyes widened. "What? No! I swear I didn’t! And neither did the others—at least, not that I know of. I don’t think they’d do something like that because of how obvious it’d look."  

A sigh escaped Pure Vanilla as the tension in his shoulders loosened slightly. He wanted to believe her. She did make a valid point— it was rather obvious that the culprits would be the group. 

"...Alright," he said at last. "I forgive you.” 

Sour Cherry’s shoulders sagged in relief. "Thank you…”

Pure Vanilla gave a small nod. He was proud of himself for this. His pacifism finally seemed to pay off, it made Sour Cherry want to change for the better. 

If she wasn’t responsible and if she was telling the truth about the others, reporting them wouldn’t help. They were Pure Vanilla’s biggest suspects so if they didn’t do it… then someone else did.  

But who?

—

The next few days had been…strange.  

Pure Vanilla Cookie couldn’t stop running into Sour Cherry. At first, it was just small things. Casual greetings in the hallway, walking with him after class, sitting near him during lunch. But soon, she was actively seeking him out, asking him questions about magic, about spells, about him.  

She was eager, always listening intently whenever he spoke about healing magic or his garden. She admired his talent, and though Pure Vanilla wasn’t used to receiving such attention, he couldn’t deny that it was… flattering. 

Eventually she started requesting lessons. At first, Pure Vanilla didn’t mind. He was used to helping others and Sour Cherry seemed genuinely interested in improving her healing skills. However, after the fifth lesson, Sour Cherry started to pry. Her attention shifted to his other spells.  

“Try again,” Sour Cherry Cookie said, watching him expectantly.  

Pure Vanilla sighed, rubbing his temple. They were standing in a quiet training area behind the academy where students often went to practice magic without disrupting the rest of the school. 

Sour Cherry wanted to know how a magic fluctuation felt— just in case she had one. This involved Pure Vanilla replicating the spell at the summoning exam, how his magic had spiralled wildly out of control. 

The problem was, he didn’t know how. Especially with the stones being a well kept secret. 

“I’m sorry but I just can’t, it must’ve been a one-time thing.” He explained again, shaking his head. “I don’t understand what happened myself, really. The best thing you can do is treat a magic fluctuation like a panic attack. Take deep, steady breaths. Try to focus on three things; a sound, a feeling and an object.”  

Sour Cherry Cookie frowned. “You can’t imitate something close to it? You had so much energy, Pure Vanilla Cookie. You’re telling me you don’t remember how you tapped into that?”  

He exhaled. “No, I don’t.”  

Sour Cherry’s frustration was subtle, her fingers curled slightly at her sides and she clenched her jaw. Before Pure Vanilla could say anything else, she quickly masked her irritation with a forced smile. “Well… I guess I’ll just have to keep practicing my magic then.”  

Pure Vanilla wasn’t sure why that made him uneasy, but he nodded anyway.

—

The library was silent except for the soft scratch of quills against parchment and the occasional rustling of pages. 

Pure Vanilla Cookie sat hunched over his open textbook, brow furrowed in frustration as he reread the same passage for what felt like the hundredth time. Attack magic had never been his strength—his focus had always been on healing and restoration spells. Offensive magic required a level of aggression he just didn’t have and it frustrated him to no end.  

Across from him, White Lily Cookie flipped through her own textbook, scanning the pages with quiet ease. Unlike Pure Vanilla, she had no trouble with attack spells. If anything, she had a natural talent for them. She didn’t flaunt it, though. She never did. 

Still, it didn’t make his struggle any easier.  

“Maybe your stance is wrong.” White Lily murmured without looking up from her book.  

“Are you saying my posture is bad?” he teased, adjusting his clearly horrendous posture. 

White Lily Cookie chuckled but before she could retort, a familiar voice interrupted them.  

“Oh wow. You guys study together often, huh?”  

Pure Vanilla glanced up, surprised to see Sour Cherry Cookie standing beside their table, peering over his shoulder at his notes. He hadn’t even heard her approach. She was smiling, her expression easygoing, but there was something in her eyes—something sharp and appraising.

Pure Vanilla hesitated before responding. “Yeah… White Lily Cookie and I usually study here.”  

Sour Cherry hummed, sliding into the chair beside him without asking. “Mind if I join?”  

Pure Vanilla blinked. “Su—”  

White Lily didn’t hesitate. “Why?”  

Her tone wasn’t exactly rude, but it wasn’t welcoming either.

Sour Cherry raised a brow at her, then turned her gaze back to Pure Vanilla. “I could use some help with magic too. And besides… I think Pure Vanilla Cookie is a better teacher than some of the professors here.”  

Pure Vanilla’s felt his face warm at the unexpected compliment. He wasn’t good with that kind of praise. 

White Lily stiffened. Her quill, which had been gliding smoothly across the parchment, suddenly halted mid-word. She didn’t look impressed. “That’s funny. I thought you were one of Pure Vanilla Cookie’s bullies.”  

The air between them grew tense.  

Sour Cherry’s smile didn’t falter, but something about it shifted. “I already apologized to him,” she said smoothly. “We’re past that, right, Pure Vanilla Cookie?”  

She placed a tentative hand over his, her thumb trailing playful circles over his. He cleared his throat then nodded, slipping his hand out from under hers.

White Lily’s eyes flicked to him, her expression unreadable. Then, without another word, she turned her gaze back to her book.

Sour Cherry Cookie took that as permission to stay.  

As they continued studying, Pure Vanilla found himself struggling to focus. Sour Cherry made it a habit to lean in every time she asked a question, brushing her hand against his when she pointed at something in his notes. Their elbows bumped on occasion. Pure Vanilla understood that some cookies were more open to physical touch than others so he didn’t exactly mind. 

What puzzled him was White Lily’s hostility. She barely spoke now, and every time he looked up from his page, he caught the sharp glare White Lily was giving Sour Cherry, like she was trying to set her on fire with just her mind. 

Sour Cherry Cookie, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content ignoring White Lily Cookie’s presence entirely. 

“So, Pure Vanilla Cookie,” She said, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers, “Where should we practice next? I’d love to see your light manipulation, it’s quite a party trick.” 

Pure Vanilla tensed. “Oh it’s nothing, really. Besides, I need a lot of concentration and quiet to do it.”  

Sour Cherry smiled. “That’s fine! My dorm is rather quiet.”  

Before Pure Vanilla could figure out how to respond, White Lily finally spoke.

“It’s weird,” she mused, her voice was too calm. “You used to act like Pure Vanilla Cookie was suspicious but now you’re rather close. Did something change?”  

Sour Cherry stiffened ever so slightly. “I just realized I was wrong about him.”  

White Lily’s gaze sharpened. “Did you?”  

Pure Vanilla suddenly felt like he was caught in the middle of something very dangerous.  

Sour Cherry laughed lightly, though there was no real humour in it. “Why do you sound so mad, White Lily Cookie? It’s not a bad thing to acknowledge someone’s talent. Not everyone’s at the top like you.”  

White Lily shrugged. “No, but it is weird to suddenly latch onto someone you barely spoke to before.”  

Pure Vanilla was her friend. Her first real friend. The first person to break through the walls she had built, the first person she had ever trusted enough to share her thoughts with. And now Sour Cherry was coming in and acting as if she deserves that connection just because she suddenly decided she wanted to be close to him?  

Pure Vanilla opened his mouth, wanting to cut in before things escalated, but Sour Cherry spoke first.

“I just think Pure Vanilla Cookie’s interesting,” she said simply, her eyes glinting with something Pure Vanilla couldn’t quite place. “And maybe I want to get to know him better. Is there a problem with that?”  

White Lily stared at her for a good long moment. Then, without a word, she closed her book and stood up.  

Pure Vanilla blinked. “White Lily—”  

“I just remembered something I need to do,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I don’t want to interrupt you and your new friend. See you later.”  

And then she walked away, leaving him alone with Sour Cherry Cookie.  

Pure Vanilla watched her go, a strange unease settling in his chest. He had never seen White Lily act like that before. Even during their petty squabbles she never left him alone like this. Did he do something wrong again? He messed up, didn’t he?

He turned back to Sour Cherry, who was now frowning.  

“I hope she doesn’t think I’m trying to steal you away,” she said, her tone soft, as if she were confessing something. “I didn’t mean to cause any tension between you two.”  

Pure Vanillas jaw clenched, his teeth almost scraping in anger, firmly shook his head. “I think you’ve done enough.”

Chapter Text

The next day, Pure Vanilla Cookie couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in his chest.  

White Lily wasn’t in class, again.  

He kept glancing toward her empty seat, hoping she would slip in late like she sometimes did, but the chair remained unoccupied. A small pit of worry settled in his stomach. The last time White Lily missed class it wasn’t a big deal. She should be fine, right? 

After lessons ended, Pure Vanilla gathered his things quickly. He decided to stop by White Lily’s dorm anyway. But before he could slip away, Sour Cherry appeared at his side.  

"Studying again today?" she asked, tilting her head with a smile.  

Pure Vanilla hesitated. He should go find White Lily. But she had left so suddenly yesterday—maybe she just needed space? He didn’t want to smother her if she was upset. He knows what it’s like to feel overwhelmed.

"Yeah," he finally said, forcing a small nod. "Guess so."  

Sour Cherry beamed. "Great! I’ll join you."  

And just like that, he found himself at their usual study spot, but with the wrong person sitting across from him.

It wasn’t the same.  

White Lily was quiet, but her presence was a comfortable, steadying force that eased him. Sour Cherry, on the other hand, was too lively, too interested in things that put Pure Vanilla through a loop.

As he scribbled down notes, she leaned closer. "Hey, Pure Vanilla, can I ask you something?"  

He glanced up warily. "What is it?"  

She twirled her quill between her fingers, smiling innocently. "I always wondered how you ended up in the detention hall with my friends. You don’t seem like the type. How’d that happen?"  

Pure Vanilla hesitated, deciding to carefully mince his words. "I… got caught stealing a book."  

Her eyebrows shot up. She laughed. “ You? Stealing?"  

He sighed. "Yeah. From the forbidden section."  

Sour Cherry let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Didn’t take you for a rule-breaker."  

"It was a mistake," he muttered. "I got caught. Got detention. That’s all."  

Sour Cherry leaned in slightly. "What kind of books are in the forbidden section anyway?" She kept her voice light, but there was something in her eyes—something keen, calculating. "I swear those books contain crazy powerful magic?"  

Pure Vanilla frowned.  

There it was again. That subtle, almost casual interest in power. He tried to keep his suspicions to himself at first out of kindness but now this was getting ridiculous. 

"I don’t know," he said honestly. "I didn’t get a good look before I got caught. But I do know there’s a librarian to be careful around."  

Sour Cherry hummed, seemingly deep in thought. Something about her curiosity made him uneasy. He tried to push past it, going back to his notes, but of course Sour Cherry didn’t stop there.  

"So," she said after a pause, "Why did you go to the forbidden section? What were you looking for?"  

Pure Vanilla’s grip on his quill tightened.  

She was prying.  

Prying too much.  

And suddenly, it felt just like the forest all over again. The cornering. The questioning. The pressure—  

"I don’t see how that’s any of your business," he snapped, his voice sharp and colder than he intended.  

Sour Cherry blinked, taken aback.  

Immediately, guilt twisted in his chest.  

"I’m sorry," he said, rubbing his temples. "That was really rude."  

Sour Cherry seemed to bite back a few words, then shook her head quickly. "No, it’s fine. I was just curious is all."  

Pure Vanilla barely registered her apology. He felt awful. Lately, everything had been weighing on him— his garden being destroyed, the grave being vandalized, the bullies getting off with barely a slap on the wrist, White Lily’s outburst due to his friendship with Sour Cherry. Through it all, his kindness had been meaningless. It never got him anywhere. It arguably made it all worse.

The only time things had worked in his favor was when he lied in the headmaster’s office. It was everything he stood against.

That scared him.  

Because if deciet had been his only reprieve, then what did that mean? Was he supposed to abandon his morals just to make life easier, like every cookie seemed to be doing?  

He swallowed hard and pushed away from the table.  

"I need some air," he muttered.  

Before Sour Cherry could respond, he gathered his things and left, shoulders tense, mind spinning.  

He didn’t know what was happening to him, but the world suddenly felt like a more bleak place to be in.

—

Pure Vanilla had been trying to hold himself together.  

The past few days had been a whirlwind— he had tried to focus on his studies, pretending everything was fine, even as a gnawing unease coiled in his chest. But now, standing outside the headmaster’s office with a summon hanging over his head, he felt the cracks forming. 

What did the headmaster want him for now?

The heavy wooden doors loomed before him. He took a slow breath, steadying himself, then pushed them open.  

Inside, the room was dimly lit by flickering lanterns, casting long shadows over the bookshelves lining the walls. The scent of aged parchment and ink filled the air, but none of it felt familiar or comforting today.  

His eyes swept the room—and then he saw her.  

Sour Cherry.  

She stood stiffly in front of the headmaster’s desk, her fingers clenched together, her shoulders tight. But she wasn’t alone. To her right, adjusting his spectacles with a frown, stood the librarian from the forbidden section. 

Pure Vanilla’s stomach twisted.

The headmaster sat behind his grand mahogany desk, hands folded, eyes sharp as they settled on him.  

“Pure Vanilla cookie,” the headmaster greeted, his voice even. “I assume you know why you’re here?”  

Pure Vanilla’s gaze flickered to Sour Cherry, whose arms were crossed tightly over her chest. She wasn’t looking at him. He had a bad feeling about this.  

“No, sir,” he said carefully.  

The headmaster let out a deep sigh before nodding toward the librarian.  

"Your classmate Sour Cherry was caught attempting to steal from the forbidden section," the librarian said, adjusting their glasses. Their gaze was heavy, scrutinizing. "And she claims you told her to do it."  

The words hit him like a physical blow.

He turned to Sour Cherry, disbelief flashing across his face. “What?”  

She finally met his eyes.  And for the first time, the carefully constructed mask she had worn—the shy, apologetic act—was gone.  It was replaced with indifference, the same smug girl who grinned while reaching for his pocket.

"You did tell me about the section," she said smoothly. "You told me how you got your first detention. You made it sound interesting—like there was something worth looking for in there."  

She wasn’t pretending anymore. It all clicked into place. The forced kindness. The sudden interest in his magic. It had never been about making amends.  It had never been real. She had been using him to get more powerful. She was jealous.

‘White Lily would have seen through this immediately,’ Pure Vanilla grit his teeth at the memory of White Lily storming out the library. ‘She probably already did.’

He felt like a fool. A complete, utter fool.  

"I never told you to steal anything," He said, voice tight with frustration. "I only mentioned how I got my detention. That’s it."  

Sour Cherry shrugged. "That’s enough, isn’t it? You implicated yourself there."  

"No, it’s not," he snapped, the words coming out sharper than he intended. "You followed me around, you forced your way into my life, and now you’re trying to blame me for your mistakes?"  

Sour Cherry’s expression darkened, but she didn’t back down. 

He felt suffocated.

Every time he tried to be kind, to forgive, to give people the benefit of the doubt—he was left standing in the wreckage of his own trust. Every time he was honest, every time he showed mercy, it backfired.  

Was this the world’s lesson to him?  

That honesty meant weakness?  

That kindness meant suffering?  

His hands clenched into fists. His chest tightened with something unfamiliar— something raw and bitter.  

"You’re just making yourself look innocent—"  

“I didn’t ask for any of this!”  Pure Vanilla’s voice cracked with raw emotion.  

And suddenly, a deep, low hum filled the air. The ground trembled beneath their feet, books shifted on their shelves, lamps flickered and for a single, terrifying second, the stones in Pure Vanilla’s pocket pulsed.  

His power was rising, the stones were feeding off his anxiety again. Pure Vanilla inhaled sharply, forcing himself to stop. To control it. Suppress it. Keep it down—  he couldn’t embarrass himself in front of the headmaster. 

The humming slowed the more he thought about the look of horror that would plaster their faces. He already looks like a risk to the academy. At this point, he’d be expelled! Eventually the small tremors in the ground faded and, thankfully, the tension in the air dissipated just as quickly as it had flared.  

Pure Vanilla’s hands were trembling. His chest felt tight, like something inside him had cracked that moment, just enough to let all the doubt and frustration spill through.  

Silence stretched thick between them.  

The librarian had taken an uneasy step back, their grip tightening around the walking cane they carried. Sour Cherry looked fascinated whilst the headmaster studied Pure Vanilla carefully, his sharp gaze unreadable.  

Pure Vanilla's heart pounded in his chest under their scrutiny. Then, at last, he lowered his head. "I—I’m sorry" he said, voice hoarse.  

The headmaster exhaled, rubbing his temples. "You've been under a lot of stress, haven’t you?"  

The words stabbed through the walls he tried to build around his heart. He felt like crying, so he swallowed hard, and nodded weakly.  

The headmaster sighed at this. "I believe you, Pure Vanilla Cookie. You had no part in this." Sour Cherry stiffened beside him, her eyes flashing with barely concealed rage.  

"But," the headmaster continued, "your behavior as of late is concerning. This outburst… the instability of your magic… this isn’t like you."  

Pure Vanilla flinched. It hurt to feel so alien in his own skin. 

"You’re an excellent student," the headmaster said, “But you need to learn control. Effective immediately, you will attend private lessons with me after school to manage your magic.”  

Pure Vanilla hesitated at this. "...Private lessons?"  

The old man nodded. "I won’t allow your power to spiral further. You’re talented, but talent without restraint is dangerous. Many evil sorcerer's begin as misunderstood protégés."  

Pure Vanilla barely processed the words. Evil? Misunderstood? His mind was still spinning from everything that had just happened. Sour Cherry, however, wasn’t as willing to accept her own fate. She opened her mouth to speak, but found her voice drowned out swiftly.

"As for you," the headmaster interrupted, turning to her. "This is not your first offense. And unlike Pure Vanilla, you don’t have a clean record or a good excuse."  

Her face twisted with fear. “B-but—“

"You will be disciplined accordingly," the headmaster continued. "And no—Pure Vanilla will not be taking the fall for you."  

Sour Cherry turned to the boy, her expression seething with unspoken fury. "This isn’t over."  She spat out.

Pure Vanilla met her gaze with an icy stare. Any kindness he felt for the girl died in this room. To him, it was over. He finally saw Sour Cherry, and maybe even this world, for what she was. And he was done.

—

Shadow Milk Cookie smiled cheerfully.

Pure Vanilla was restless— his emotions crackling like a storm beneath his skin, his fragile patience unraveling thread by thread.  

He exhaled wistfully, enjoying watching Pure Vanilla battle with himself. He was alone in his dormitory. His head rested in his hands, fingers digging into his temples, as if trying to press back the tide of emotions threatening to consume him.  

Anger. Frustration. Perfect.

Perhaps Pure Vanilla believed it had been the bullies who desecrated the wolf’s grave in some petty attempt to provoke him.  But no, that had been all him! 

Shadow Milks magic could not reach far, nor could it hold for long. He was still limited to those closest to Pure Vanilla. But even with those limitations, he had enough grit to take control of some unwitting passerby and command them to tear apart Pure Vanilla’s fragile sanctuary.  

The grave and the garden. Two places of peace for Pure Vanilla, destroyed in a single moment.  

Shadow Milk closed his eyes, savouring the memory. Oh how long had it been since he sowed chaos like this?

This was only the first step. Anger, when properly harnessed, was the most useful of all emotions. It stripped away people's perspective and rationality, reveals the truth beneath. The truth that the world does not reward kindness. 

It devours it. People take advantage. People manipulate. People twist and destroy. Sour Cherry had done it. The bullies had done it. The school itself had turned its back when it mattered most.  Even Pure Vanilla’s beloved White Lily had abandoned him in the library when overcome with anger.

Shadow Milk leaned forward, his grin sharp, his voice a low murmur that Pure Vanilla could not yet hear—

‘Come now, little healer. How much more will it take before you break?’

—

Pure Vanilla sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the cracks in the wooden floor. His dorm was cold, colder than it had ever felt before. The walls felt too close, the air too heavy.  

His hands were shaking even clasped together. His heart pounded in his chest, a dull, rhythmic thud against his ribs. He clenched his fists, then unclenched them. Over and over again. It didn’t stop the restlessness in his body.  

Something was wrong.  

He wasn’t himself anymore.  

Everything had been building, pressing against his ribs like a dam ready to break. The grave, the garden, the bullies, the betrayal, the way people kept taking advantage of him, punishing him for being good. Even the stares he gets from students he doesn’t know, but they know him. Know he’s a magical freak.

Was he stupid for expecting kindness?  

Was he weak for always forgiving?  

His thoughts tangled, his emotions spiralling.  

He needed to get out of here.  

He needed to see White Lily  

—

Pure Vanilla  barely remembered walking to White Lily’s dorm. It was all a blur. The next thing he knew, he was standing at her door, knocking—no, pounding.  

“White Lily,” he rasped. “Please.”  

A few seconds passed. He heard shuffling, the creak of floorboards. Then the door cracked open, and White Lily peeked out, hair messy from sleep, her nightclothes wrinkled.  

She blinked at him in confusion, a mix of emotions plastered across her face.  

“Pure Vanilla Cookie?”  

He tried to speak, to explain why he was here, but the words stuck in his throat. For a moment, they both stood there in silence.  

And then, suddenly, he couldn’t hold it in anymore.  

Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over before he could stop them. His breath hitched, and then, just like that— a sob ripped from his chest, and he buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking.  

White Lily froze.  

She had seen him upset before, had seen him frustrated, exhausted, even close to breaking—but never this.

Her first instinct was panic. What was she supposed to do? What could she say? But then Pure Vanilla let out a choked sound, his fingers digging into his cloak, and that panic melted into something else entirely.  

“Pure Vanilla,” she said, softer this time. “Come inside.”  

The moment the door shut behind them, White Lily turned to him, hesitant. Pure Vanilla stood in the centre of her dorm, his arms wrapped around himself like he was trying to hold himself together.  

She had never seen him like this. So small. So lost.  

“What happened?” she asked, keeping her voice gentle. Afraid a syllable too high might shatter him.  

Pure Vanilla let out a sharp, shuddering breath. He hated this. He hated how weak he felt, how utterly helpless. He swallowed thickly, trying to steady himself, but the moment he opened his mouth, everything poured out.  

“Someone destroyed the grave,” he said, voice hoarse. “The wolf’s grave. I went back to visit, and— it was ruined, White Lily. The flowers, the stones— gone.” His breath hitched. “And then, the next day, my garden. Everything was smashed. I spent months growing those plants, and someone just—” He cut off, shaking his head. “And Sour Cherry—”  

White Lily stiffened. “What about her?”  

“She betrayed me,” he whispered. “Used me to become more powerful. Lied about me to the headmaster.” He let out a hollow laugh, scrubbing at his tear-streaked face. “I’m so stupid, White Lily. I thought—” His voice cracked. “I thought she wanted to be my friend.”  

White Lily’s expression darkened. She hadn’t known about the grave. Or the garden. She hadn’t known how bad it had gotten. She felt a pang of guilt in her chest at this. She had been so focused on her own feelings, her own discomfort with Sour Cherry, that she had left Pure Vanilla to deal with everything alone.  

No wonder he had snapped.  

She reached out, gently guiding him to sit on the bed beside her. He let her, his breathing uneven, hands still trembling.  

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.  

“I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he choked out. “I don’t feel like myself anymore.”  

She frowned but remained quiet, letting him speak.  

“I keep trying, White Lily,” he whispered. “I keep trying to be a good person, but every time I do, it just—” His voice wavered. “It backfires. I thought if I forgave people, if I gave them a chance, they’d change. But they don’t. They just take advantage of me.”  

White Lily’s hands tightened on his.  

“I—I feel so stupid,” he continued, staring down at his lap. “You probably saw it from the beginning. You knew Sour Cherry was using me. You— you must think I’m so stupid —”  

“I don’t,” White Lily interrupted firmly.  

Pure Vanilla blinked, looking up. She met his gaze, her expression filled with something raw, something close to regret.  

“I don’t think you’re naive. I think you’re kind.” She squeezed his hands. “And that’s not a weakness.”  

Pure Vanilla let out a shaky breath, but said nothing. White Lily took his silence as permission to speak again, though her tone was quieter this time, face leaning in closer, like she was confessing a secret.  

“I—I feel bad for storming out that day. I could tell something was wrong, but I let my own feelings get in the way instead of asking you what was wrong. I should have been there for you.”  

Pure Vanilla instantly interjected. “No, it’s not your fault—”  

“I’m serious, Pure Vanilla Cookie!” Her grip tightened around his hand again. “You always try to see the good in people. You always help. Even when people don’t deserve it. That’s brave. That’s strong...”  

“I wish I could do that,” She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never stood up for someone because I—I’ve always been too afraid.” She let out a weak chuckle. “You’re the first person I’ve ever really let in, Pure Vanilla. And I was scared of losing that. That’s why I left the library. I didn’t know what to do.”  

Pure Vanilla swallowed. “This never would’ve happened if I hadn’t befriended Sour Cherry…I’m sorry. My naïveté got in the way again.” 

The girl sighed. “It’s not your fault Pure Vanilla, you just need to learn that not everyone deserves forgiveness.”  

Pure Vanilla tilted his head. “Then I would need to stop being forgiving.”  

“No,” White Lily said quickly. “That’s not what I meant.” She shifted, facing him more fully. “Having mercy, being forgiving… it isn’t a weakness. You just need to learn discernment. To know who deserves it. And just because someone doesn't deserve your forgiveness, it doesn't mean you think they deserve pain.”  

Pure Vanilla looked at her, exhausted and uncertain. “That’s hard to do.”  

“I know,” she admitted. “But… I look up to you for it.”  

You could’ve shown Pure Vanilla a meteoroid shower and he’d still be more shocked at this. He blinked, startled. “What?”  

She gave him a small, hesitant smile. “I admire the way you always try to help. How you always look for the good in people, even when they don’t deserve it.” She glanced away. “I could never do that. I’d be too cautious, too afraid. But you— you always try.”  

White Lily looked up to him?  

Even after everything?  

Pure Vanilla laughed dryly. “Hearing you say that means a lot but I just want to be the kindness I want to see in the world. Recently I guess I got a bit demoralised.”  

White Lily sighed. “I wish the world was different too. But it’s a childish dream.”  

Pure Vanilla hated to admit it, but perhaps she was right about that. He smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah.”  

“But,” she continued, nudging him lightly, “that’s why you have to focus on the good that does exist. On the people who are kind.”  

He stared at her for a moment. And, for the first time all day, his chest didn’t feel quite as heavy.  White Lily was right. She always was.  

Pure Vanilla let out a slow breath.  

“Thanks, White Lily,” he murmured.  

She gave him a soft, lopsided smile. “Always.”  

A quiet moment passed between them.  

Then, before he could overthink it, Pure Vanilla hesitantly reached out and pulled her into a hug. Last time White Lily hugged him, he felt on top of the world. 

White Lily stiffened in surprise, but after a beat, she relaxed, arms tentatively wrapping around him. Pure Vanilla closed his eyes at this, letting himself breathe. The weight of everything was still there. The anger, the hurt, the doubt. But for now—just for now—he wasn’t carrying it alone.  

He hoped, secretly, that they made a habit of this.

—

Shadow Milk seethed at the display before him. His influence, carefully woven into Pure Vanilla’s mind, had been unraveling— undone — by her. 

White Lily Cookie.

That wretched, stupid, boring little girl, with her quiet patience and soft reassurances…

He had spent weeks pushing Pure Vanilla. He had watched as anger took root, as doubt festered, as the boy questioned his own kindness. He had nudged him toward the inevitable, toward his way of thinking—toward seeing the world as it truly was.

And then, in one night, she had pulled him back. 

The rage that surged within Shadow Milk was raw and consuming. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. How? How had she soothed Pure Vanilla’s doubts so easily? How had she silenced the storm he had so carefully cultivated?  Shadow Milk was Pure Vanilla’s soul partner, not her!

They were tied in an inseparable knot he couldn’t seem to undo. Shadow Milk desperately had wanted Pure Vanilla to break. To crumble beneath the weight of his own disillusionment. To rise from the ashes of his shattered ideals, colder, sharper— his.  

But instead, she had patched him back together.  

Shadow Milk’s fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palms. It couldn’t be jealousy, a beast like him doesn’t yearn. They conquer. And a stupid little girl won’t dissuade him because he is patient. He has an eternity with Pure Vanilla now. When he claims the rest of the shards he’ll become an immortal ancient, someone on par with Shadow Milk. An equal.

There will be other opportunities for Shadow Milk to play with Pure Vanilla. 

The thought managed to calm his nerves slightly. His possessiveness was somewhat unnerving, even to him— You could say he wasn’t acting like himself either!

Whilst his little healer took the path of anger, he seemed to grow…soft. How ironic.

Shadow Milk tried to rationalise. Their bond was all he had. Trapped in this boring domain, Pure Vanilla was his only source of entertainment. His friends were unresponsive, sealed away in their own unique prisons where they couldn’t talk or hang out. 

He…missed them. Missed pulling pranks on Burning Spice Cookie, roughhousing Silent Salt, and gossiping with Eternal Sugar. Even Mystic Flour had moments of artistic genius he’d incorporate into his own magic. 

If White Lily thought she could shield Pure Vanilla from the truth of this world, she was a fool. As his Souljam thief, Pure Vanillas life is his by right.

Not in the way of a master and a servant, nor even a puppet and its strings. No—Shadow Milk cookie realised that Pure Vanilla was his in a way far deeper than that, in a way that rooted itself in the quiet echoes of their souls.

The boy was unlike the others. He had the same softness, the same naïve hope he once carried. The same thirst for knowledge, the unabashed determination to stand up for what he believes in, the same foolish idea that kindness could mend the world. Shadow Milk had walked that path before— Pure Vanilla could understand him.

Shadow Milk exhaled sharply.  

He will not slip away from him again. 

Chapter Text

The days that followed Pure Vanilla’s breakdown in White Lily’s room were different—not in a way that the world had changed, but in the way that all the negativity that was clouding his vision had melted away. He had remembered himself, his truth. And though life still had its complications, he felt steadier in his footing. 

Pure Vanilla spent his time as he always did, studying alongside White Lily in the library then tending to his garden after classes. His routine had returned to normal—or at least, as normal as it could be. 

Occasionally, when Pure Vanilla turned his head too quickly or shifted his gaze, he'd notice a flicker of blue in his peripheral vision. It never stayed long enough for him to focus on it so he assumed it was the trick of the light. Or maybe his own mind playing games with him. 

Either way, he ignored it, and the shivers he felt down his spine.

It was midday now, and the academy’s courtyard buzzed with students enjoying their lunch break. The hallways were alive with the chatter of classmates catching up between lessons. Pure Vanilla sat beside White Lily on the stone steps leading into the main hall, as they often did when they wanted to avoid the crowded dining halls. 

White Lily pulled out her lunch—a neatly wrapped sandwich, a handful of jellies, and a small bottle of tea. She glanced at Pure Vanilla’s empty hands then gave him a knowing look.

"Are you skipping lunch again?” she asked flatly.  

Pure Vanilla shrugged, leaning back on his hands. "I’m not really hungry."  

She sighed. "You’re never hungry. You’re going to pass out one of these days, you know."  

He chuckled softly but didn’t argue. A comfortable silence then stretched between them as White Lily ate, and Pure Vanilla simply watched the world move around him. He liked these moments—where they didn’t need to speak, just exist in the same space.

Then, White Lily broke the quiet.

“I signed up for the academy’s travel program,” she said, casually, as if it were nothing. But there was something eager in her voice, something alive.

Pure Vanilla turned to her, blinking. “You did?”

She nodded, setting down her sandwich. “Yeah. It’s an opportunity to see more of the world. I want to discover ancient ruins, meet people who’ve lived different lives, learn why things are the way they are. It feels like… if I want to find answers, I have to start with knowing more.” 

There was an excitement in her eyes, Pure Vanilla knew that look well—it was the same one she had when she talked about the books she loved or was on the verge of an important discovery. 

He understood. And yet, when she turned to him and said, "You should come with me,"— Pure Vanilla hesitated.

He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his arm. “I don’t know, White Lily. I don’t think I’d be good at that kind of thing.” 

She frowned. “Why not?” 

“Well… I’m not like you,” he admitted. “I—I wouldn’t be much help out there. My eyesight isn’t great, I’m not athletic, I can barely handle my own magic.” He let out a small laugh, though it lacked humor. “I’d probably just slow you down.” 

White Lily sighed. “You always do this. You think too little of yourself...” Then, with a teasing smirk, she added, “Maybe it’s because you don’t eat enough. You’re as thin as a twig.” 

Pure Vanilla gawked at her, caught off guard. “Hey!” 

She giggled as Pure Vanilla glanced down at himself, frowning. 

Now that he thought about it… he was skinny.

It wasn’t something he paid much attention to before, but compared to some of the other students—especially those who trained physically—he was noticeably smaller. His uniform even hung a little loosely on him. 

A wave of embarrassment crept up his neck. “I—I’m not that thin.” 

White Lily arched an eyebrow. “Right…” 

Pure Vanilla groaned, covering his face as she laughed. Despite his embarrassment, he found himself smiling. The rest of their lunch was spent like that— full of lighthearted teasing. And for now, that was enough.

—

Pure Vanilla Cookie was terrible at taking care of himself. 

The boy moved through his days like a flickering candle—bright, but easy to snuff out. He gave so much of himself to others, to his studies, to his garden, yet he never seemed to dedicate any time to himself.

Shadow Milk Cookie watched it all unfold, stunned, as Pure Vanilla skipped meals, brushing it off like an afterthought. Some days, he didn’t eat at all. And because of that, he lacked the energy for proper exercise, never building the strength he needed to carry himself. The way his uniform hung loosely on his frame was proof enough. Even his sleep schedule wasn’t safe! 

It was clear to Shadow Milk Cookie that the boy had never learned to care for himself. 

White Lily had noticed, of course. Shadow Milk had caught the way she teased Pure Vanilla at lunch, making light of his poor habits. But even with her insistence, Pure Vanilla did nothing to change. He still wound up forgetting as the day went on, as if it didn’t matter. 

But it did matter.  

Shadow Milk had once been a scholar. A teacher. He knew how important it was for boys of Pure Vanilla’s age to eat properly, to grow strong, and to take care of themselves. He used to be strict about it too— his students had to be in tip top shape under his watch. Yet here Pure Vanilla was, oblivious to how much he was holding himself back.  

‘Stubborn’ Shadow Milk thought.

And so, he wondered— what could he do? 

He had already taken steps to push Pure Vanilla down a new path, to make him question the way he viewed the world. But this… this was different. This wasn’t about breaking him down or testing his morals. 

This was simply… taking care of him.  

And that was a realisation Shadow Milk Cookie wasn’t quite sure what to do with.

—

Pure Vanilla Cookie walked briskly, his breath visible in the cold morning air. His heart was a strange mix of anticipation and sadness. Today was the day White Lily would leave on her journey, and he refused to miss saying goodbye. 

The academy grounds were still quiet, save for a few students trickling toward their morning classes. Pure Vanilla moved with purpose, barely paying attention to his surroundings— until he caught sight of a familiar group up ahead. 

Sour Cherry, Dark Chestnut and Violet Ivy stood in a loose circle near the entrance of the main courtyard. The moment they spotted him, their conversation halted. They exchanged whispers. Sour Cherry Cookie, standing at the centre, crossed her arms and held his gaze with a look that was neither scornful nor friendly. 

Pure Vanilla's heart skipped a beat, but instead of shrinking under their scrutiny, he lifted a hand and waved.

It was a simple, effortless gesture, but it felt like a declaration. A quiet defiance.

Sour Cherry Cookie’s expression flickered— surprise, maybe— but she didn’t respond. The others merely exchanged glances, murmuring something he couldn’t hear. 

He carried on walking. After everything Pure Vanilla was done wasting energy on them. He had spent too long feeling like he needed to prove himself—to justify his kindness, his intentions. But that wasn’t his burden to carry anymore.  

Being kind was his truth.  

By the time he reached the air balloon docks, the platform was buzzing with activity. Students stood in clusters, adjusting their bags and exchanging last-minute words before departure. Above them, the academy’s grand airship loomed. It was a massive balloon that was made of pale fabric, glistening in the morning sun. 

And there, standing near the edge of the dock, was White Lily Cookie. She turned at the sound of his footsteps, a small smile pulling at her lips. "You made it on time."

“Barely,” Pure Vanilla Cookie admitted, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “I may have ruined my sleep schedule.”

White Lily sighed dramatically and stepped closer, reaching up to flatten his frazzled hair. “You’re hopeless.”

Pure Vanilla huffed but didn’t stop her. There was something oddly comforting about the way she fussed over him.  

“Did you pack everything?” he asked.  

White Lily Cookie nodded. “Double-checked it this morning.”  

A brief silence settled between them. The dockhands were preparing to board the last of the passengers, the air filled with the sound of shifting ropes and distant chatter.  

Her gaze flickered over him, more serious now. “You will take care of yourself while I’m gone, right?”  

Pure Vanilla chuckled. She had noticed his other less than stellar habits—of course she had. She always saw through him. He gave her a reassuring smile. “I promise.”  

White Lily Cookie didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she nudged him lightly. “Good. Because if I come back and find you half-dead from exhaustion, I will finish you myself.”  

“Duly noted.” Pure Vanilla hesitated before adding, “Only if you promise me you’ll be careful.”  

White Lily tilted her head. “Of course.”  

“No, really.” His voice was softer now. “I know you want to explore, to figure things out, but… just don’t take any unnecessary risks.”  

She gave a small nod. “I promise.”  

The final boarding call echoed across the docks.  

White Lily sighed. “Well, that’s my cue.”  

Without another word, she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Pure Vanilla melted into the embrace. It was brief, just a few seconds, but he held onto it, memorizing the warmth of her presence. Then, just as quickly, she pulled away.  

“Try not to get into any trouble while I’m gone!” she called out, stepping onto the boarding ramp.  

Pure Vanilla offered a lazy salute. “No promises!”  

White Lily giggled as she disappeared into the ship. The engines roared to life, signalling its soon departure. Everyone filled together and eventually, the airship lifted into the sky, leaving Pure Vanilla Cookie watching it disappear into the horizon, taking his best friend with it. He felt a pang of longing settle deep in his chest.  

The docks grew quiet. He stayed there for a while, wondering what he’d do without her.

—

Shadow Milk Cookie observed Pure Vanilla with a detached curiosity, watching as the boy fell into solitude now that his dear White Lily Cookie was gone. He wasn’t completely alone—his classmates were friendly enough, but he never truly connected with them. They were acquaintances at best, faces in the crowd that passed through his life without leaving a mark. Sometimes only there to get notes.

Without White Lily Cookie, Pure Vanilla eventually retreated into the company of books. Shadow Milk Cookie had expected as much. The boy had always sought comfort in stories, in knowledge, in the quiet hum of parchment and ink. He could relate. Shadow Milk’s love for books was a habit born from years of feeling like an outsider, from never quite knowing where he belonged.  

As Pure Vanilla Cookie wandered the academy halls idly, Shadow Milk felt something close to satisfaction. He had never liked the girl. She was perceptive, always pulling Pure Vanilla back to the side of the light when he began to teeter toward something more interesting. She was a nuisance.  

Now, she is gone.  

At the end of the day, Pure Vanilla Cookie made his way to the prayer room. It was a quiet, sacred space, lined with flickering lanterns and old scripture. He was a frequent guest there, unfortunately for Shadow Milk Cookie who found it all rather boring. He would usually zone out whenever the boy slipped into prayer. (The gods never showed him mercy—) The staff greeted Pure Vanilla warmly. All smiles as he made his way to a secluded spot.

However, something made the boy jolt in surprise.

Another soul shard.  

Pure Vanilla Cookie approached it cautiously, kneeling down as he picked up the small, glimmering stone. He held it between his fingers, his face unreadable.  

Shadow Milk Cookie couldn’t believe it. Another one? At this rate Pure Vanilla might as well take his damn name while he’s at it! He was the real deal, favoured by the Witches and their odd sense of humour.

The most interesting part was that Shadow Milk Cookie had somewhat caused this. Indirectly, perhaps, but still—this reward was because of him.

Despite everything he out the boy through— despite the loneliness, the frustration, the anger he had felt throughout the month— Pure Vanilla Cookie had still remained kind. He had stuck to his truth. The stones rewarded redeeming acts. They recognised selflessness and compassion. And now that Pure Vanilla has come out on top, he has been gifted even more of Shadow Milk Cookie’s power.

Shadow Milk Cookie turned away sharply, but a stray memory latched onto him before he could stop it.  

A war. A field of wounded soldiers, their cries blending into the howling wind. His hands, stained with blood, yet still working tirelessly to save. Hundreds had sought him out, hundreds more he managed to save. He was given a title for his efforts, as well as the first blessing from the Witches. He was a hero. 

Shadow Milk Cookie forced the memory away. That was another life. A life he had no intention of reliving. Still, the stone’s presence confirmed something he had been suspecting for a while. The bond between them was growing, strengthening with each stone Pure Vanilla Cookie collected. He could feel it.  

He pondered what to expect from this. If their connection was deepening… perhaps that meant his influence was too?

Shadow Milk Cookie’s possession trick was elusive. It wasn’t about completely taking over another’s body. No, his deceit magic was more subtle. Illusionary. All it took was a delicate thread of influence to put someone into a dream-like state.

He smirked, an idea forming.  

—

The day unfolded like any other. Pure Vanilla Cookie followed his usual routine. It was strange having White Lily Cookie gone. The quiet was different—not unbearable, but noticeable, like the absence of a steady drumbeat he had grown used to.

By lunchtime, he was on his way to his one-on-one magic lesson with the headmaster. A small part of him was nervous about it; the last time he lost control, the earth itself had trembled in response. The memory made his fingers twitch. If he proved himself too dangerous, could he be expelled?

Pure Vanilla had just passed the dining hall when he accidentally bumped into someone.  He stumbled back, startled. He looked up, an apology already forming on his lips—then froze.

The chef before him was a regular he’d see around the school. They were a friendly man, he thinks, yet something about them felt wrong. Their eyes were the same striking shade of blue as the hunter's, and the wolf’s.  

Pure Vanilla’s heart skipped a beat once the cook stared at him, brow furrowed in mild annoyance. They scanned him in a way that made Pure Vanilla feel exposed. "Your too skinny," he finally remarked.  

The sudden comment caught him off guard. He blinked, flustered. “Wha—?”  

“Have you eaten today?”  

Pure Vanilla hesitated. Well…he had meant to eat but he had gotten caught up with making sure he saw White Lily Cookie off in time, and then class, and then—  

“Uhm, sorta?” he said quickly.  

The chef’s frown deepened. “Leave the lying to the professionals, Kid.”

Pure Vanilla swallowed thickly, unsure of how to respond. How did they know he was lying? And there are professionals for lying? I mean, he had a bite of an apple… which he then forgot to finish. 

Without another word, the chef reached into the kitchen behind them, rummaging through a basket before pulling out a sandwich wrapped in brown paper. They held it out to him. “Take it and eat it.”  

Pure Vanilla hesitated, still fixated on their sharp, unnerving eyes. Something was telling him that refusal wasn’t an option. He gingerly took the sandwich, mumbling a small, “Thank you.”  

The cook nodded. Their eyes then flickered for a moment, and he turned away quickly, hand over his head, disappearing back into the kitchen without another word.

Pure Vanilla exhaled slowly, gripping the sandwich as he continued walking. His thoughts were restless, circling from the headmaster to the cook’s eyes. It was too much of a coincidence. But what did it all mean? Does he need his eyes checked?

As he passed the academy garden, a soft rustling caught his attention. A flock of small birds had gathered, pecking at the ground, searching for the scraps of students lunches. 

Pure Vanilla slowed his steps.  

Without really thinking, he unwrapped the sandwich and broke off small pieces of the bread, scattering them across the ground. The birds reacted instantly, hopping closer, their feathers ruffling as they greedily pecked at the offering.

He watched them, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He’ll save himself a small piece, of course, but the birds needed the food more than him. Animals deserve as much help as they could get.

—

The lesson with the headmaster had gone surprisingly well. For the first time in what felt like forever, Pure Vanilla wasn’t being reprimanded or questioned. Instead, they had focused on something simple—channeling magic on and off, controlling the flow rather than letting it control him. It was a refreshing change.  

With his books tucked under his arm, he now made his way toward the library, eager to get some studying done. The halls were mostly quiet, save for the occasional student rushing past. Pure Vanilla turned the corner when he felt a sudden tap on his shoulder.  

He turned around, expecting a classmate, maybe someone looking for notes or a quick favor. Instead, he was met with a student wearing an apron, holding a tray of pastries.  

The first thing Pure Vanilla noticed was their eyes— blue again. The very same as the cooks. For a moment, he was too stunned to say anything, his mouth agape. The student smiled at this, lifting the tray slightly. "I made these, would you like to try one?"  

Pure Vanilla blinked, regaining his composure. "Oh, uh—no thanks," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not really hungry."  

The student’s smile dropped. "These took me ages to make and you’re saying no?" She snapped, then quickly forced back a smile. "I mean— I need feedback, I’m in the cooking club!"  

Pure Vanilla hesitated. Something about the situation felt… odd. And truthfully, he was quite put off the food because of it. But the student was insistent and refusing again would just make things awkward.  

“Alright.” he relented, reaching for a pastry.  

The moment he touched it, he winced. It was hot.  

Not just warm, boiling! Like it had just come out of the oven and straight onto the tray. His fingers tingled from the brief contact, but the expectant stare from the student made him adjusted his grip, careful not to burn himself.  

Pure Vanilla Cookie took a small bite. The heat made his tongue sting, but he managed to chew and swallow. The flavour was actually decent, buttery, with a hint of a milky flavour.  

He swallowed, nodding. “It’s, uhm, a little overcooked, but the flavour is pretty nice.”  

Pure Vanilla went to wipe his face when he realised— they weren’t wearing gloves. He glanced at the tray again. The metal was still radiating heat from the oven. But the student held it with ease, their expression completely unbothered.  

A strange, uneasy feeling crept up Pure Vanilla’s spine.  

“…Where are your gloves?” he asked slowly.  

The student blinked at their own hands, as if they were just realising they had them, and that they could be burned. She chuckled. “Ah…don’t worry about that.”  

She then took a step closer, tray still in hand. “You only had one bite, quite rude if you think about it. Take another one.”  

Pure Vanilla forced a polite smile, shaking his head. “I really shouldn’t. I’ve got to get to the library.”  

The student gave him an agitated glare, but didn’t press further. They simply nodded, as if they had expected his answer all along. “Alright. Thanks for your feedback.”  

Pure Vanilla Cookie muttered a quick “no problem” and turned to walk away, resisting the urge to move too quickly. In reality, he wanted to hit the ground running. 

—

Shadow Milk Cookie had enough.  

Pure Vanilla Cookie rejected the sandwich. He rejected the pastries. Every single attempt only ended with failure, leaving Shadow Milk exhausted from spending his magic on deceiving people. Stars above—  he accidentally burned some kids hands to a crisp just trying to get Pure Vanilla to eat!

It was infuriating. The boy was already frail, already exhausted, and yet he refused to take care of himself. It made no sense. It was self-destructive. Worst part is, he wasn’t even doing it on purpose. He simply forgets! 

So this time, Shadow Milk Cookie decided he would be direct. No illusions, no subtle nudging—just a firm lecture about the importance of eating and keeping one’s body strong. No Souljam partner of his is going to be caught lacking! 

Possessing a teacher was easy enough. He chose one that wouldn’t be missed for the next hour or so, someone who wouldn’t raise suspicion if seen speaking with Pure Vanilla. 

Storming through the halls, he moved toward the library, already preparing what he was going to say. You can’t function without food, you’re going to collapse at this rate, you’re wasting your potential— 

But when he pushed open the heavy wooden doors, the library was empty. Empty, except for him. 

Pure Vanilla Cookie was hunched over a desk, his face buried in the pages of an open book, soft breaths escaping him in sleep. His head rested on his folded arms and his blonde hair trickled down his face.

Shadow Milk Cookie stopped in his tracks. The frustration he carried flickered, dimming into something else. Of course he had worked himself to exhaustion. Of course he hadn’t realised how tired he was until his body gave in.  

The beast sighed and stepped closer. His gaze drifted to the book Pure Vanilla Cookie had fallen asleep reading. He picked it up carefully. The cover was worn and it’s pages were yellowed with time. It was a herbal tome. 

Shadow Milk Cookie blinked with surprise, flicking through a few pages. He remembered this. He had read this too. Years ago, long before—  

He exhaled sharply, cutting the memory off before it could form. That wasn’t important right now. He closed the tome and set it aside, his attention now on Pure Vanilla. The kid was slumped awkwardly, his posture terrible. He’d wake up sore and probably complain about it all morning.  

Shadow Milk Cookie shook his head. “You’re impossible,” he muttered under his borrowed breath.  

Then, without hesitation, he leaned down and scooped the boy up.  

Pure Vanilla barely stirred, only murmuring something incoherent before settling deeper into sleep. Shadow Milk Cookie carried him through the empty halls, he was unsurprisingly light— not that he could feel it. All the strain was on the teacher's body, not his.

Using his memory, he reached Pure Vanilla’s dorm. He pushed the door open and stepped inside carefully. The room was as neat as ever, his books were stacked and organised, his bed was barely disturbed. There were many vases full of flowers. The smell was pungent.

Shadow Milk laid Pure Vanilla down gently, not wanting an awkward confrontation if he woke up. Luckily, Pure Vanilla accepted his bed rather quickly. He curled into the sheets instinctively, letting out a soft sigh as he settled into comfort.  

Shadow Milk Cookie watched him sleep for a moment. This was supposed to be his replacement. An irresponsible little boy. He didn’t know whether to laugh or strangle Pure Vanilla right here right now. He could, if he wanted to. End the cycle. Steal the stones. 

It was useless though, someone else would come along as his replacement. That person could be the polar opposite to Pure Vanilla Cookie too, someone who could never understand Shadow Milk Cookie, and that thought was quite unappealing to him. Of all the fragile, stupid cookies he has met in his ancient lifetime, this one was different.

Then, already feeling his grip on the teacher's subconscious slipping, Shadow Milk Coolie turned and left, making sure not to slam the door on the way out.

Chapter Text

The weeks passed slowly, each one marked by the arrival of a letter from White Lily Cookie, where she’d write about her adventures.

Her handwriting was always precise but undoubtedly rushed, as if she had too much to say and not enough time to say it. The first few had been simple— descriptions of the towering mountains her group had climbed, the sprawling cities they had explored. She spoke of bustling marketplaces filled with foreign food and culture, of rivers so clear she could see fish darting beneath the surface. With every word he read, it was like he was there, experiencing it all with her.

Then one arrived that changed everything.

Pure Vanilla sat in his dorm, the envelope still warm from the sunlight as he carefully broke the seal. His eyes scanned over her words—and then he saw it. 

“I got a stone, Pure Vanilla Cookie."

His breath caught.  

She described it as emerald green, glowing with an otherworldly light, just like his own. She had received it when she made a choice—to split from the group despite their protests to stay behind in a small town that was on the brink of collapse.  

The town had been struggling with starvation, their land dry and barren. But White Lily, ever the strategist, had realized the solution lay just beyond their borders. There were forest reserves with untouched soil, fertile. She convinced the townspeople to reclaim the land, to build new farms and irrigation systems. She stayed, helped, and watched the town begin to rise from the ashes.  And then, the stone appeared.

Pure Vanilla’s fingers tightened around the parchment. She had done something selfless, something that changed lives—and she had been rewarded for it. At that moment, Pure Vanilla felt connected to his dear friend. 

At the bottom of the letter she had written something that made his heart pound even harder.

“Pure Vanilla, why don’t you come join me? I think there’s more out here for us. More than just studying and waiting for life to happen. These stones are proof enough. We should help people. We should see the world and I want to do it with you."

Pure Vanilla’s stomach twisted.  

Leaving the academy… was he ready for that? His hands trembled slightly as he set the letter down. He looked around his dorm— the bookshelves filled with texts he had already read, the neatly kept bed, the window that overlooked the academy grounds. He thought about his daily routine, about how predictable it had become.

And then he thought about White Lily out there, making an actual difference.  

Pure Vanilla reached for a blank sheet of parchment on his desk. He didn’t hesitate this time.  

“I will join you, White Lily."

—

Shadow Milk seethed.  

The more he thought about it, the harder it was to contain his fury. 

White Lily had a stone. 

He wasn’t familiar with the green colour, so he couldn’t tell who she’d replace from his friend group, but the colour didn’t matter. What mattered was what it meant. 

She was one of them now. A part of the cycle. A force that wouldn’t go away.  

White Lily was supposed to be temporary. A passing voice in Pure Vanillas life that would fade and die with age. She was not supposed to become an ancient. She was not supposed to receive a stone. And she was not supposed to call Pure Vanilla to her.  

He was supposed to shape Pure Vanilla. He was supposed to be the only one whispering in the boy’s mind, the only one guiding him, the only one who truly understood him.

Yet, every time Pure Vanilla was on the brink of understanding him, White Lily always managed to drag him back! 

Shadow Milk let out a shaky breath, calming himself. There was no need to get all cranky over essentially a child (one that would become an ancient-) so he revised his game plan. 

White Lily had always been a problem. But now—now she was becoming a threat. Clearly Shadow Milk had been been patient for too long. If White Lily wouldn’t go away on her own…  he’ll make her. 

—

Pure Vanilla adjusted the strap of his satchel, shifting the weight on his shoulder as he leaned on his walking stick. His boots were covered in dust, the edges of his cloak frayed from days of travel. The journey had been long but none of that mattered now because she was here.  

White Lily stood at their meeting spot, just as they had planned. Her hair was now in a sensible braid, and she wore a simple green dress. It complimented the bright hue of her eyes, and Pure Vanilla was left mesmerised. She looked even prettier out of her uniform. 

“Pure Vanilla!” Her hot pink eyes softened when they landed on him, and Pure Vanilla swallowed.

He barely had time to brace himself before she crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Pure Vanilla was surprised, staggering back slightly, but he laughed, hugging her tightly in return.  

"I missed you too," he murmured into her shoulder. He missed her overpowering scent. How people in the academy ridiculed her for it? He’ll never know.

She pulled back and smiled. “It’s been so long… have you been eating well? I was expecting a growth spurt.” 

Pure Vanilla did a double take. He carefully unlodged himself from her shoulder and blinked, taking a good look at himself, then craning his neck slightly to meet White Lily’s gaze. She’s taller than him now! 

“I— I’m sure I’ll get mine soon! You look… like you’ve been thriving.” He gestured to the green stone around her neck. It pulsed faintly, an odd, fluid-like movement shifting beneath its surface.

She followed his gaze, holding it up. “It hasn’t done anything strange. No discomfort, no flare-ups. Just… there. When more come, I’ll probably put it on my staff.”

Pure Vanilla frowned. His stones had always felt like a weight holding him down, sure it granted him power, but to know White Lily wasn’t experiencing even half of his troubles made him feel like a failure. It was to be expected, he supposed. White Lily was great at everything. 

"I’m happy for you," he said, choosing to ignore his disappointment in himself.

White Lily Cookie smiled in response. “And you? Still collecting more?”  

Pure Vanilla reached into his pocket and pulled out his fourth stone, letting it catch the light. The faint hum it emitted made his fingers tingle.  “Yeah” he said. “It happened just before I left.”  

White Lily tilted her head, curiosity flickering across her face. “There has to be a pattern to you getting them. And with how I have a stone, perhaps we can hypothesise a link...”  

“I think I have an idea— but we can talk it out when we get back to town? I could use a rest.” Pure Vanillas feet felt like jelly.

As the two made their way back, White Lily, who was normally confident in the woods, had to stop and double-check the path every few steps. The trees looked the same in every direction, and the landmarks she had memorised seemed to have shifted.  

"This doesn’t make sense…" she muttered, hands on her hips.  

Pure Vanilla sighed, gripping his walking stick a little tighter. "So… we're lost?"  

White Lily mumbled. “I don’t think we are, the path back was simple I just— let’s keep moving.”

Pure Vanilla hid his worry under his usual smile. They’ll get out of this, they just need to find some landmarks and go on from there. A hill, maybe? 

He glanced around, trying to find anything defining. As his eyes scanned the trees. For a moment, he thought he saw something flicker at the edge of his vision—a brief glimmer of blue.

But when he blinked, it was gone.  

White Lily glanced at him. “Pure Vanilla?”  

He forced a small smile. “It’s nothing. Let’s just keep moving.”  

But as they continued forward, Pure Vanilla couldn’t shake the feeling that they were going in circles. The trees stood like silent watchers, their branches twisting overhead to block out the evening sky.  

Then, a sudden rustling in the underbrush made them both freeze.  White Lily’s posture shifted into something defensive and Pure Vanilla gripped his walking stick, his heart pounding as he scanned the darkening woods.  

A figure stepped out from the trees.  

He was their age, tall and broad-shouldered, with long black hair that had a singular strand of white. He had handsome dark skin and a massive sword rested against his hip, the hilt peeking over. Despite his intimidating presence, he didn’t seem hostile—just… conflicted.

Before White Lily could say anything, another figure burst from the brush.  

“Ugh, finally!”  

A burly woman dressed in armour and  carrying a massive shield, stomped forward with a relieved sigh. She had a few twigs stuck in her pink hair, but she didn’t seem to notice as her bright eyes flickered between them with curiosity. “Thought we’d never find someone else out here!”  

We? Pure Vanilla questioned until a final rustling made him tense once more. Yet another figure stepped into view. This one carried herself differently—regal, refined. She had short golden hair and an equally dazzling spear. She looked over them all with sharp eyes before offering a smirk. “Well. This is a surprise.”  

White Lily relaxed her posture. “…You’re lost too?”  

The burly woman groaned. “Unfortunately.” She motioned to her companions. “I’m Hollyberry Cookie by the way! The tall, brooding one is Dark Cacao Cookie, and this is Golden Cheese Cookie. We’re all adventurers.”  

Dark Cacao gave a silent nod in greeting.  

Golden Cheese scoffed, folding her arms. “Exceptional adventurers. Though, admittedly, today has not been our finest work.”  

White Lily glanced at Pure Vanilla, then back at them. “I’m… White Lily Cookie. This is Pure Vanilla Cookie. We’re trying to get to a nearby town, but…”  

“We keep getting turned around,” Pure Vanilla finished.  

Hollyberry let out a sharp laugh. “Well, isn’t that just fantastic? Guess we’re all in the same boat.”  

Dark Cacao finally spoke, his voice a low, mature timbre that didn’t match his age at all. “Paths keep changing.”  

A heavy silence settled over them.  

“…That’s not possible,” White Lily murmured. She knew of these woods, it was connected to the settlement she was helping. How could they get so terribly lost? 

Hollyberry stretched out her arms. “Well, whatever the case, we’re clearly not getting anywhere tonight. Might as well make camp.”  

Golden Cheese flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Ugh. I suppose sleeping here is preferable to wandering aimlessly until we drop dead.”  

With a reluctant nod from White Lily, they all began gathering firewood and clearing a space to rest. Dark Cacao and Hollyberry took lead in collecting a mountain of sticks while Pure Vanilla made the clearing nice a homely. There were a few hiccups with Golden Cheese insisting that the camp was too small for her tastes, but soon they managed a small fire. 

The makeshift camp was simple—a ring of stones around the fire, bedrolls spread out on patches of grass, and weapons within arm’s reach.

Golden Cheese Cookie leaned back on her hands, watching the flames. “Well, since we’re all stuck here together, might as well share something interesting. Where does everyone come from?”  

Dark Cacao barely reacted, too engrossed with cleaning his impressive sword. Hollyberry perked up, clearly excited and White Lily shot Pure Vanilla a glance, wordlessly asking if he wanted to participate. He gave a small, polite shrug.  

“I’ll start!” Golden Cheese insisted. “I’m from the desert. My people live in glorious pyramids surrounded by endless sand.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bag. “I’m here because I’m looking for abundant riches—anything that can help me build a safer home for my people, my treasures. I have great plans for expansion, you see!”

Pure Vanilla studied the bag. It was clear she wanted it filled up with gold. So far there were a few bits and pieces that could be traded. He wondered if she was a princess considering how highly she spoke of herself and her people, but before he could ask, Dark Cacao spoke up.  

“I travel for the same reason,” he said with a measured tone, barely betraying his fondness. “My home is a frozen wasteland where only the strongest survive. My people are warriors but resilience alone won’t keep us safe. I need power, knowledge— anything that will protect them.”  

His words carried a weight that silenced the group for a moment. He had a kingdom to protect. People are relying on him.  

Then, Hollyberry clapped her hands together. “Well, I have nothing that dramatic,” she admitted, laughing. “I’m just here because I love to travel! I want to see the world, meet interesting people, learn everything I can.” She gestured around the camp. “And, well—this is already pretty great.”  

White Lily smiled. “That’s a good reason too.”  

Hollyberry turned to her. “Thanks! What about you?”  

She hesitated, fidgeting with her hands. She thought about Pure Vanilla and her stone, but decided that was a topic too intimate for mere strangers.

“We’re sort of like you, Hollyberry. I’m travelling with Pure Vanilla, my friend from school, for the sake of it. We’re still figuring everything out.” She smiled sheepishly.  

Golden Cheese raised an eyebrow but didn’t push.  

“Well,” Hollyberry said brightly, “maybe you’ll find your answer along the way.”  

—

The next morning, as the group stirred awake, Golden Cheese was the first to move, stretching her arms before practicing some drills with her dazzling spear.

Pure Vanilla, who had never seen so much gold, stared in awe as the light bounced off it from the canopy to the floor. Golden Cheese caught his gaze and smirked. “Like what you see?”  

“Your weapon is beautiful,” he admitted, unable to hide his admiration.  

Golden Cheese glanced at her weapon, making an “oh” sound, but quickly preened under the compliment, puffing her chest out. “I know.” she said smugly. Then, with a teasing glint in her eye, she added, “Normally I’d never let someone touch my treasures, but would you like to give it a whirl?”  

Pure Vanilla reached out, running his fingers over the smooth metal. It was heavy, far more heavier than his simple walking stick. Now that he thought about it, Golden Cheese Cookie, along with the rest of the group, looked quite strong. 

“Nice, right?” she said.

“It really is,” Pure Vanilla replied, handing the weapon back. He avoided the tip at all cost, not wanting to lose a finger. 

Golden Cheese laughed, looking way too pleased with herself. She gave Pure Vanilla his walking stick back too— not before flipping it around and doing some silly tricks. It got a good giggle out of him. 

Eventually the group packed up camp and resumed their journey. As they walked, White Lily filled them in on the town she had been helping. “It used to be a thriving place but after a few bad harvests and monster raids, things spiralled downhill,” she explained. “When I arrived, they were barely surviving. But there’s potential. They just need help rebuilding their farms and defences.”

Hollyberry, Dark Cacao, and Golden Cheese exchanged glances.

“I don’t know about you guys, but that sounds like as good a place as any to rest for a bit!” Hollyberry said. “I think we wouldn’t mind seeing what we can do to help.”

White Lily beamed at this, making Pure Vanilla settle into a placid smile. This was nice. The idea of travelling with this ragtag group could be the excitement he's always been looking for. And with White Lily, no less? What a dream. 

Just as the group began to relax into conversation, all the peace Pure Vanilla was relishing in disappeared.

A long, eerie howl echoed through the trees. Everyone stopped in their tracks. Dark Cacao was the first to react. His expression hardened and silently drew his sword, muscles tensing. The forest suddenly felt too quiet, like it was holding its breath.

Then,  monsters emerged from the shadows— a band of Cake Wolves, Skelecake’s and Jelly worms. To Pure Vanilla’s surprise, they didn’t have a semblance of humanity in them. No reasoning in their movements, just pure aggression. All of them growled and snapped their jaws in rage.

White Lily moved instantly, stepping in front of Pure Vanilla, who was still deep in thought. “Stay behind me,” she ordered. 

Golden Cheese rolled her shoulders at the sight, cracking her knuckles. “Finally, a creature that dares go against me! I was getting bored.”

Dark Cacao wasted no time, his gaze analysed each monster, taking there strengths and weaknesses in. He didn’t look afraid like Pure Vanilla was, if anything, he looked indifferent. “Focus on the small ones,” he commanded. “I’ll handle the leader.”  

“I’ll join you,” Hollyberry cheered, giving her shield a little twirl. “We can lead the charge!”

With a lineup assembled, the battle erupted. Pure Vanilla swallowed back any reservations he had about violence at this moment and immediately cast a shield of light, expanding it around the group to deflect any incoming attacks. Pure Vanilla was adamant that his professor wasn’t right even if he decided to partake in a battle, this was self defence.

White Lily and Golden Cheese didn’t care for the logistics as they worked in tandem, taking down a horde of Jellyworms that decided to get too close. Golden cheese worked the creatures like a flash of lightning, darting from one monster to the next, her spear glimmering with every turn. To Pure Vanillas surprise, even White Lily had developed a sense of control with her magic. She’d cause large scale explosions, bombing the area with her white lily’s.

The team worked well with one another. It made Pure Vanilla feel confident enough to cut through the chaos to heal whenever he could. Especially Dark Cacao and Hollyberry, who fought fiercely, cutting through the horde with practiced skill. They took the brunt of the attacks.

Pure Vanilla kept his focus on them, to the point where, when he saw Dark Cacao take a hit, he darted forward, channeling healing magic into the warrior’s wound. Dark Cacao tensed as the warm light closed his gash. He turned to Pure Vanilla, surprise flashing across his usually stoic face.  

“Didn’t expect a healer,” he said gruffly. “Thanks.”  

Pure Vanilla nodded, breathless.  

The fight continued, the group pushing back against the tide of creatures. It seemed like they were gaining the upper hand because White Lily could check up on Pure Vanilla, cutting clean any monsters who got too close if she wanted, never feeling too overwhelmed. Pure Vanilla was at awe at this— White Lily had grown so much, she looked and felt more comfortable in her own talents.

However, during a particularly messy encounter, one of the skelecakes used their magic to summon a force of wind that slammed into Pure Vanilla’s chest.  They must’ve figured out that he was the one keeping the group alive because he was airborne before he even registered what happened. 

“Pure Vanilla!!” White Lily screamed, lunging after him. But before she could reach him, another blast of magic roared through the battlefield, splitting the group apart.  

Pure Vanilla hit the ground hard. His body rolled through thick underbrush, twigs snapping beneath him, sharp thorns tearing at his skin. His walking stick slipped from his grasp, tumbling into the darkness of the forest.  

When he finally came to a stop, he lay there, gasping for breath. His entire body ached, fresh cuts stinging against the cool night air. His head pounded.  

He sat up slowly, wincing. The world around him was a blur—shapes too indistinct to make out. Panic bubbled up in his chest as he reached out, fumbling for his walking stick. His fingers met only dirt and fallen leaves.  

“White Lily Cookie?” His voice wavered. “Golden Cheese Cookie? Hollyberry Cookie? Dark Cacao Cookie?”  

Silence.  

His heartbeat pounded in his ears.  

Then, in the distance, he heard them. Heavy footsteps. Low, guttural growls. The monsters were coming.  

Pure Vanilla’s breath hitched. He forced himself onto shaky legs, hands outstretched as he tried to navigate the blurry forest. His walking stick helped him see, even a little. Now everything was indistinct— shadows shifting, edges blurring. He couldn’t tell what was real and what was just his fear playing tricks on him.  

A snarl ripped through the silence, closer this time. Pure Vanilla turned just in time to see a dark shape lunging toward him.  

Instinct took over. He threw himself to the side, barely dodging the attack. His shoulder hit the ground hard, pain flaring up his arm, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Another shape moved in the corner of his eye, fast and relentless.  

Pure Vanilla cast a shield, golden light flaring around him like a fragile dome. The first monster slammed into it with a guttural growl, claws screeching against the barrier.  

For a moment, he thought he was safe.  

Then another one came.  

It hit the shield at full force and shattered through like it was made of glass.  

Pure Vanilla barely had time to react before searing pain tore through his arm. He screamed, stumbling backward as blood dripped down his sleeve. His vision swam. The shapes around him blurred together, shifting, closing in.  

Panic consumed him. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t see. His magic wasn’t enough. His breathing turned ragged. His chest tightened, fear drowning out all thought.  

And then—  

Heat.  

The stones against his skin flared with warmth, pulsing in time with his rapid heartbeat. The sensation was overwhelming, burning through his exhaustion, his fear. His mind felt distant, untethered.  

And then everything went dark.

—

White Lily’s breath came in heavy gasps as she pushed her way through the thick underbrush. Her bruises ached with every step but the pain was drowned out by the adrenaline pumping through her veins. 

Where was Pure Vanilla Cookie?

She forced herself to keep moving, pushing through the bramble, until finally, the noises of battle she had been following started to change. The growls grew quieter and she heard something else— whimpering, low and pitiful, like the creatures were wounded.  

Her breath hitched. She quickened her pace, rushing toward the source of the noise, her feet stumbling over the forest floor.

And then finally, she saw him.  

Pure Vanilla was standing in a clearing, his body hunched over, a cake wolf pinned beneath him. His hands were slick with blood as he methodically cut into the creature’s body. There was no hesitation in his movements, no sign of the gentle boy she knew. Looking around at the carcasses, she could infer that he wasn’t just fighting them. He was slaughtering them, as if the carnage around him meant nothing.  

White Lily’s stomach twisted. “P-Pure Vanilla?” The name felt alien on her lips, like she couldn’t fathom associating this violence to him.

He didn’t respond.  She stepped closer this time, her voice softer. “Pure Vanilla… it’s me.”  

Finally, he turned to face her.  

White Lily sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes—once bright and warm— were now a piercing, slitted blue. Not just unnatural, but unfamiliar. Her skin prickled. Something was wrong about him. Even his expression was twisted. He was delighting in the slaughter, and now he looked at her like he did with the monsters.

“What happe—“

White Lily barely had the time to finish her sentence before Pure Vanilla lunged, his hands closed around her throat, squeezing tight. She gasped, gripping his wrists, but his strength was monstrous, far beyond what Pure Vanilla should have had. 

“Pure Vanilla!” she choked, struggling against him.  

His lips curled into a sneer, but his voice was not his own.  “Finally,” the voice growled, dark and venomous. “I can get rid of you.”  

She could feel her vision dimming, her breath fading as panic began to set in. Whatever this was, it wasn’t Pure Vanilla and it was going to kill her. She kicked, her legs flailing uselessly, but it felt like she was sinking, like the world was slipping away…

Then, a blur of motion— Golden Cheese Cookie slammed into Pure Vanilla, tackling him to the ground.  

White Lily collapsed to the floor, coughing as air rushed back into her lungs.  

Dark Cacao was on Pure Vanilla in an instant, pinning him down with his sheer strength. Pure Vanilla thrashed violently beneath him, but it was a losing battle against someone like Dark Cacao. Still, his eerie eyes were locked onto White Lily, still filled with something—anger? Hatred?  

Hollyberry dropped to White Lily’s side, gripping her shoulders. “Are you okay?”  

She nodded numbly, though her breath still came in ragged gasps. “D-don’t hurt him.”

Dark Cacao tightened his hold, his muscles straining. “He’s strong!” his was voice laced with disbelief, but his arms couldn’t deny the strain they were currently in. 

Then, like a puppet cut from its strings, Pure Vanilla’s body suddenly went limp.  

Golden Cheese stepped back, wary but spear still at the ready. Dark Cacao hesitated, keeping his grip firm, but the fight had left Pure Vanilla entirely. His chest rose and fell in shallow, unconscious breaths. He was now sleeping in Dark Cacao’s arms.

White Lily slowly got to her feet. Her legs were wobbly like jelly, thankfully Hollyberry was kind enough to offer a shoulder to lean on. She swallowed hard, still feeling the phantom grip around her throat.  

“What, pray tell,” Golden Cheese exhaled, shaking her head, “was that?”  

No one had an answer.  

Chapter Text

Pure Vanilla Cookie woke up in a room he didn’t recognise.

The scent of dust entered his lungs as he yawned, fingers digging into the bed beneath him. It was firm but surprisingly comfortable. Around him, blankets had been tucked with care as if someone had lovingly ensured he was warm before leaving.  

For a good moment, he lay there, blinking away the last remnants of sleep. Then a dull ache settled over him, the kind that came from exhaustion rather than injury. His hand drifted instinctively to his arm. The wound.

It should have still been there, fresh from the fight. But when his fingers brushed against the area, he felt nothing— no torn flesh, no bandages. The injury was gone, the only proof of its existence being a tear in the fabric of his black turtleneck top.

Fangs, by the looks of it. 

Frowning, Pure Vanilla sat up. Not only had his undergarments been cleaned of any bloodstains, across the room his robe lay draped over a chair, also spotless and presumably embellished with new holes. That fact alone was a little frustrating but no matter, Pure Vanilla liked to sew. This was not the first time he had to fix up his clothing.

His attention then drifted from his arm to the window by his bedside. Beyond the glass he could see a settlement stretched out before him. It was humble and clearly still under construction; workers carried supplies, hammering away at what looked to be a barn as children scurried along with animals attached to their hip.

One particular young cookie was shepherding a herd. It reminded Pure Vanilla Cookie of his own dear cream sheep. As much as his garden distracted him, he still missed them and their fluffy cotton candy coats…

‘This must be White Lily Cookie’s village.’ The realisation settled something inside him. They had made it. The group had survived the monster attack. 

He exhaled slowly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. His limbs protested the movement but he pushed through the stiffness. He needed to find White Lily and the others. He needed to know that they were okay.

With careful steps, Pure Vanilla made his way toward the door and slipped into the hallway. The house was more like a cottage, a sweetly decorated thing. It was quiet save for the murmur of voices coming from downstairs. Curious, Pure Vanilla followed the sound carefully until he paused at the top of the stairs.

He heard his name amidst the conversation.    

“…I promise you, Pure Vanilla Cookie wasn’t himself,” White Lily was talking, her voice was firm and even a little angry. “It was just a side effect from a miscast spell. It happened before back at the academy, magic can have repercussions.”  

Golden Cheese Cookie scoffed. “Side effects don’t usually involve strangling your friends.”  

A cold weight settled in Pure Vanillas stomach.  

White Lily didn’t falter. “He wasn’t aware of what he was doing. His magic isn’t meant for aggression—only healing. Sometimes, when he pushes himself too far, things like this happen.”  

Hollyberry Cookie hummed thoughtfully. “I guess that makes sense… and you yourself don’t seem too alarmed.”

Dark Cacao Cookie, however, remained sceptical. “I don’t know much about magic,” he admitted. “But I know the way someone fights. Pure Vanilla Cookie wasn’t just lashing out randomly—he moved with killing intent.”  

Pure Vanilla’s heart could burst right out his chest. He clenched his fists, trying to grasp onto the scattered fragments of his memory. But it was all distant— blurred, like trying to recall a dream that was slipping away too fast.  

Had he really tried to… to…

The thought made him nauseous. This all had to be one big understanding— he’d never — he’d never want to—

The floor beneath him creaked.  

The conversation downstairs stopped.  

For a moment, the silence stretched. It was rude to eavesdrop, Pure Vanilla knew this, so he took a steadying breath and descended the stairs slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last. 

As he stepped into the living room, the air shifted—casual but alert. The livingroom itself was warm and inviting, lit by the soft morning light streaming through a lace-draped window. A modest space, simply furnished, yet decorated with vases of white lilies placed with quiet care. Pure Vanilla assumed this must be where White Lily has been staying. Clearly she made an effort for it to feel welcoming, but the tension in the air made it anything but.  

White Lily Cookie was sat on the couch, offering him a warm smile. “You’re awake.”  

Pure Vanilla couldn’t help but return the smile, though it felt a little unsteady. “Yeah. I, uh… slept fine. Just a little tired.” 

His eyes flickered to the others— Golden Cheese leaned back against a chair, arms crossed, watching him with a sharp, unreadable gaze. Hollyberry was perched on the opposite side of the couch, absentmindedly sipping on a beverage. Dark Cacao stood near the fireplace, his expression impassive but alert. His gaze didn’t hold the same gentle calm as before.  

They all looked at him like he was dangerous.

Pure Vanilla swallowed. “What… happened?”  

White Lily exhaled softly. “After we split you must’ve miscast a spell and suffered…side effects.” She cleared her throat before finally addressing the elephant in the room. “You attacked me, Pure Vanilla Cookie.”   

Pure Vanilla stiffened, his thoughts immediately went to the stones, the way they had burned against his skin before he blacked out. 

White Lily Cookie was covering for him.

He felt the realisation sink in. He didn’t remember anything. Not the fight, not losing control, not even the moment his head hit the floor. But attacking White Lily? His heart sank at the thought. That wasn’t possible. That couldn’t be possible. But the way Golden Cheese’s gaze hardened, the way Dark Cacao’s jaw tensed, told him otherwise.  

Dark Cacao scoffed, breaking the silence. “You’re lucky we found her in time,” he muttered. “That could’ve ended a lot worse.”  

Pure Vanilla tried to process it— tried to grasp the reality that he had truly hurt White Lily. His hands trembled, and his chest tightened with something raw and painful.  

“I hurt you?” His voice was barely above a whisper. The words felt insufficient, but they were all he could muster in his disbelief. 

White Lily’s expression softened. “It wasn’t your fault, Pure Vanilla Cookie.”  

But that didn’t make it any easier to hear.  

His vision blurred for a moment, a deep pit of nausea curling in his stomach. His heart pounded against his ribs, an awful, sinking guilt settling in. How could he not remember? How could he— why would he—  

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted, voice shaking. “I—I would never—” He inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. “I don’t know what happened, but I swear I didn’t mean to—”  

White Lily reached out, squeezing his wrist gently. “We know, we believe you,” she said, cupping his hands. “You’re shaking, take a deep breath with me.”  

Pure Vanilla obeyed, only realising now that he was on the verge of a panic attack. He took a deep breath in, capturing the scent of lily flowers, held it, then exhaled in tandem with White Lily Cookie.

“Better?” She asked after a moment.

“Better.” Pure Vanilla Cookie replied, focusing on her soothing smile, her pretty eyes, her lovely hair. Anything but the bruises around her neck.

The room was quiet, the tension slowly starting to ease. Hollyberry’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, her lips pressing into a small, thoughtful line. “It did seem like an accident. You were certainly not acting like yourself. Maybe it was just… one of those things.”  

Dark Cacao said nothing, but he didn’t look as tense as before. Pure Vanilla felt like he could look the man in the eyes again without trembling. 

Golden Cheese was feeling more motivated, she approached Pure Vanilla with her hands on her hips. “I will look past this transgression, your apology, or rather your reaction, is genuine,” She leaned over and smiled, “Consider yourself pardoned!” 

Pure Vanilla sucked in a shaky breath, overwhelmed with relief. He had just befriended these lovely cookies and is beyond glad they’re willing to look past this. It would be a shame if they didn’t. “Thank you. For stopping me. And for—” he glanced at White Lily, his cheeks flushing, “for keeping her safe.”  

“Think nothing of it.” She waved him off, and slunk back to her spot on the couch. 

The last bits of tension disappeared into thin air with her words, allowing the group to unwind. White Lily placed a hand on Pure Vanillas arm, eager. “Let’s leave everyone to their chores,” she said gently. “We should talk.”  

Pure Vanilla nodded, barely registering the movement. His body felt disconnected from his mind, still sluggish, still reeling from it all. Without another word, he followed White Lily upstairs, the sound of his footsteps echoing in his own ears.  

—

The door clicked shut behind them, and White Lily locked it without a word, making sure their conversation stays private. Pure Vanilla appreciated the gesture but now that he was back in the bedroom he woke up in, everything suddenly felt too enclosed, too quiet.  

He didn’t know where to start—how to explain the fear clawing at him, the emptiness in his memory, the sheer horror of waking up to learn he had attacked her.  

“Pure Vanilla Cookie…”

White Lily’s calming voice snapped him back to reality, wiping clear his train of thought . She walked closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know it wasn’t you.”  

Pure Vanilla swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet her eyes. “How can you be sure?” He couldn’t trust himself right now, and that was a terrifying thought to deal with. 

“Because your eyes changed,” she said. “They weren’t yours.”  

Pure Vanilla frowned at this, taking a tentative step back. “What do you mean?”  

She hesitated. Pity, he could see it written all over her face. Once again, Pure Vanilla was the poor, frightened animal she had to tip-toe around. He hated it. “They were deep blue, and your pupils… they were slitted, like an animal’s.”  

A sharp, cold dread settled in his chest. The Hunter. The Cake wolf. Even the people at the academy. They had the same eyes. So enamoured in his thoughts, Pure Vanilla barely noticed White Lily’s concerned expression. His breathing felt uneven, his thoughts tumbling over each other.  

“I’ve seen them before,” he said shakily. “The Hunter—his eyes were the same. And the Cake wolf in the forest, the one I tried to heal. They both had those same blue, slitted eyes.”  

White Lily’s eyes widened. She sucked in a sharp breath, then turned away, beginning to pace. Pure Vanilla watched as she muttered something under her breath, deep in thought.  

Finally, she stopped. “Pure Vanilla Cookie,” she said slowly, “there’s something I haven’t told you.”  

He lifted his gaze to her.  

She held his gaze while reaching for her necklace, touching the smooth green stone embedded in a locket. “I hear a voice through my stone.”  

He blinked. “Really?”  

“It doesn’t happen all the time, but it’s there. It pushes me to be free.” She let out a quiet breath. “I think it guides me.”  

That crushing disappointment returned. Pure Vanilla Cookie clutched onto his stones and the memory of the voice.

It came at the wrong times. Often making situations worse rather than better. He can…understand the situation with the bullies. They were going to steal the stone and indirectly hurt him because of it. But his exam? Wanting to make it “more interesting” just didn’t feel like a guiding hand White Lily Cookie was getting. Once again, he was behind, dealing with a situation he didn’t understand while she seemed to flourish. 

He decided to keep his stones ‘voice’ to himself. Ashamed.

White Lily turned to face him fully. “I didn’t tell the group the truth because we’re still figuring this mess out ourselves but… what if your stones are doing the same?”

Pure Vanilla stiffened.  

“What if they’re trying to protect you?” she continued. “Pushing you in situations they think you can’t handle?”  

His fingers twitched. He thought of the warmth that spread through him in moments of danger. The unnatural strength. The way his body had moved without his permission. “But if that’s true,” he said slowly, “why do they lash out at the worst times? Why did they attack you?”  

White Lily looked conflicted. Then, voice quieter, she finally asked, “Please be honest with me. Do you… feel threatened by me?”  

Pure Vanilla’s breath caught. The thought was absurd. He trusted White Lily with his life. She had never once given him reason to fear her. She was his best friend.

“No,” he said instantly. “White Lily Cookie, you never make me feel unsafe.”  

She studied him for a long moment. Searching. Trying to understand why all of this had happened. Why he had said those things to her during the attack. Then, finally, she nodded, though her expression was still clouded with uncertainty.  

Pure Vanilla exhaled, trying to find his own certainty in all of this. “Maybe my stone is different. More… reactionary. I don’t know why it acts the way it does.” He looked back at her, determination settling in his chest. “But I do know that I won’t let it change me because of it.”  

He let out a slow breath, rubbing his arm where the wound had been. The shards weren’t all bad to him, he supposed. But he couldn’t believe it had made him hurt White Lily. That was nearly unforgivable.

He carefully asks the question he dreaded to know. “What… exactly did I do?”  

White Lily Cookie crossed her arms over her chest, glancing down as if trying to gather her thoughts. “You were surrounded by monsters,” she started. “But you weren’t just fighting them. You were slaughtering them.”  

Pure Vanilla felt a chill crawl up his spine. Slaughtering them? He’d never kill for the pleasure of it, let alone so cruelly. His mind wandered to the injured Cake wolf and he grimaced. There were Cake wolves in the pack of monsters that attacked them— knowing that he must’ve brutalised them, Cake Wolves exactly like the one he buried, made his heart hurt.

White Lily inhaled sharply. “I called out to you, and you turned. I thought you’d recognise me but…” She trailed off, her eyes glazed over like she was reliving it.

“But I didn’t.” Pure Vanilla Cookie finished.  

She shook her head. “No. You looked at me like I was… like I was just another enemy.”  

Her fingers brushed against her throat absentmindedly, and Pure Vanilla’s stomach twisted.  

“I pinned you.” He guessed. “Choked you.”  

White Lily nodded. She met his eyes, but there was something unreadable there. She opened her mouth, the words barely forming, but she closed it. A weight she wasn’t sharing.  

Pure Vanilla noticed this. She was hiding something. A commonality, now, it seems. Ever since the stones got involved, more secrets were being kept. His voice remained calm when he asked, “There’s something else, isn’t there?”  

White Lily Cookie tensed at the words. They both knew eachother like an open book and yet after the smallest pause, she still decided to shake her head. “No.” she said lightly. Too lightly. “That’s all.”  

Of course Pure Vanilla didn’t believe her. Not entirely. But he didn’t push, pushing White Lily into doing something she wasn’t comfortable with was the fastest way to lose her trust. She was like a bird in that aspect.  

Instead, they sat in silence.  

She looked away, arms still crossed, deep in thought. He exhaled, accepting her silence. Whatever she was keeping from him—whether it was out of kindness or uncertainty—he wouldn’t force her to say it.  

After a moment, Pure Vanilla Cookie walked toward the window, leaning against the frame as he looked outside. The townspeople moved about, one of them shouting orders that were written on a note for a group of gardeners to follow. Over their shoulders, they carried soil bags from the forest to the nearby greenhouses. Just as White Lily Cookie advised.

“They trust you,” Pure Vanilla realised. “And you trust them.”

He glanced at White Lily, then back at the people below. A small smile crossed his lips.  

“You’d be a great leader” he said suddenly.  

White Lily Cookie blinked, startled. “What?”  

“The people here believe in you,” he explained. “You’ve already done so much for them. Your advice guides them. You’re wise and—” He gave her a teasing look. “Bossy when you need to be.”  

White Lily snorted, but the compliment seemed to linger with her. She walked over to join him by the window, watching as a group of children ran past the gardeners, pots in hand, laughing.  

For a while, she said nothing. Then, with a quiet sigh, she murmured, “I don’t think I’m meant to be a leader. A mayor or a queen… that’s not my path.”  

Pure Vanilla tilted his head. “Why not?”  

White Lily’s fingers brushed against the green stone around her neck. “Because I need freedom.” She looked at him, eyes thoughtful. “It’s what my stone calls me to. I don’t think I can stay in one place forever.”  

He watched her, taking in the certainty in her expression. The way she seemed at peace with her own choices. He wondered, briefly, if he would have to chase after her. Forever at the tips of his toes. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the fragment of the soul stone. Unlike White Lily’s, which pulsed with a sense of boundless freedom, his stone felt different in his hands. It didn’t call him to adventure. Instead, it reminded him of something deeper, something unshakable.  

“I don’t feel a calling like yours,” he admitted “Not to freedom, at least. But I do feel… grounded, I guess. Like no matter where I go, as long as I hold onto my truth, I’ll be where I need to be.”  

White Lily tilted her head, intrigued. “Your truth?”  

He nodded. “I think that’s why I got my most recent stone. It appeared to me in the academy’s prayer room, of all places. It was right after I realised that no matter what life throws at me, I won’t change into something I’m not.”  

He looked at White Lily then, his expression warm. “And you helped me with that.”  

She turned away quickly, hiding her face under strands of white with an embarrassed huff. “I- I didn’t do anything,” she muttered “And besides, you’d be a better leader than I could ever be.”

Pure Vanilla genuinely considered it for a moment. He glanced back out the window, watching as the townspeople worked together. The idea of leading—of being responsible for so many lives— was daunting . But the idea of helping? Of making a difference in a place that needed him? That was something else entirely.  

“I think I’d like that…” he admitted. “It makes me happy to help people. To heal, to guide. But I don’t know if I’m meant to settle anywhere just yet. I think I’ll just have to see what life has to offer first.”  

White Lily Cookie nodded in understanding, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Then let’s see what life has for us, together.”

—

Shadow Milk Cookie was disinterested with the sappy conversation before him.

Another wasted effort, this was. He had hoped to drive a wedge between Pure Vanilla and White Lily, either by making the boy crumble her, or to leave Pure Vanilla crippled with guilt, too ashamed to face the girl— perhaps even to push her away entirely. The sensation of her struggling beneath him sends chills down his spine even now. The slaughter of the monsters quenched a base thirst, but her demise, oh that would be something else entirely.

But here they were, reaffirming their bond, speaking of leadership, of trust. It was almost nauseating. He dealt with gum under his shoe less clingy than they were.

He exhaled slowly, idly watching White Lily. She believed that his influence was some sort of guiding force. The thought nearly made Shadow milk laugh. She was close, but not quite. Yes, he healed Pure Vanilla, protected him, kept him standing. But it had nothing to do with White Lily’s ideals, with whatever foolish optimism she clung to. His interests with his puppet were his own, and hers were nothing more than an inconvenience.  

Still, he had to admit, Pure Vanilla’s musings about leadership intrigued him. Becoming a leader wasn’t a choice for people like them—it was an inevitability. A powerful, ancient healer who refuses to let go of his ideals? An excellent scholar with knowledge far beyond mortal comprehension? They were both desirable, needed by the greedy cookies of this world.  

And they would take from him.  

They would call him a savior, put him on a pedestal, build kingdoms in his glory, only to drain him dry when the time came. Just like they did to him.

His lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer. When the time came—when Pure Vanilla stood exactly where he had once stood—Shadow Milk would be there, waiting to see his inevitable downfall. 

Pure Vanilla is lucky, for Shadow Milk will be there to catch him.

—

Pure Vanilla Cookie woke up in a room he recognised. 

The first rays of dawn filtered through the heavy cream curtains, casting golden light across the grand chamber. He stirred beneath the embroidered sheets, his body reluctant to leave the warmth of his bed.

But today was not a morning for laziness. Today, he would embark on his journey to Beast Yeast.

He exhaled deeply, stretching his arms above his head, feeling the stiffness of sleep loosen its hold. As his right hand fell back to the bed, his fingers brushed against something smooth. The familiar touch sent a gentle hum through his skin, a vibration that traveled up his arm and settled in his chest.  

The mystery of his adolescence— his Souljam.  

Its bright blue surface pulsed faintly beneath his fingers, as if it recognised his touch and preened under it. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting its soothing energy wash over him. No matter how turbulent his heart felt, no matter the weight of leadership pressing upon his shoulders, the stone always anchored him.

Pure Vanilla tightened his grip around the stone for a moment longer, then released it. With a slow, deliberate movement, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and placed his feet on the cool stone floor.  

His walking staff stood beside the bed, its eye greeting him warmly. He took it in hand, pressing his fingers against its familiar grooves. A faint creak echoed in the quiet room as he made his way toward the window.

Pushing aside the heavy drapes, he was met with a sight that never failed to stir something deep within him.  

The Vanilla kingdom.  

The morning sun bathed the sprawling city below in warm hues. The market square was already coming to life, merchants setting up their stalls. He spotted a group of children playing, one of them trying their best to shepherd a herd of rowdy cream sheep, just like all those years ago. He smiled faintly. How nostalgic.

Pure Vanilla rested a hand on the window frame, his thumb tracing an old chip in the stone. “Would you be proud, White Lily Cookie?” he murmured to himself.  

He exhaled softly, letting the moment settle before pushing the thought away. Today was not a day for sorrow. It was a day for adventure, for the unknown roads ahead.  

With the Souljam in its proper position and his walking staff in hand, Pure Vanilla Cookie was ready to meet the day.

Chapter Text

The land of Beast Yeast stretched far beyond the horizon; a vast expanse of dark, gloomy trees. From the vantage point on the airship’s deck, Pure Vanilla Cookie could see rivers winding like silver veins through the dense forests, their shimmering surfaces reflecting the fog-covered morning sun.

The Vanilla kingdom was far behind him now but his heart was not weighed by longing. Pure Vanilla Cookie found himself smiling as he leaned against the railing, letting the wind brush against his face. His thoughts drifted back to a morning like this, many years ago.

He was just a boy then, still struggling with the Souljam shards and their streak of chaos. White Lily Cookie was determined to see the world, her travel bag slung over her shoulder, eyes alight with the thrill of what was to come. 

“Try not to get into any trouble while I’m gone!” She had said. And with that, turned and boarded the airship. He had stood there for hours, watching her disappear into the horizon, feeling an emptiness in his chest.

Pure Vanilla blinked, pulled back into the present. His hand drifted to his chest, where his Souljam rested. He caressed the stone, letting it warm his palm. The stone was usually calm but just now, as the airship crossed the borders and properly entered the land of Beast Yeast, it was… different.  

It buzzed, a tickling vibration that pulsed against his skin, like it was excited.  

The sensation was not unpleasant— quite the opposite. There was something familiar in it, something warm, like the excitement of meeting a dear friend. Knowing the voice that haunted his childhood was the Voice of Truth from his Souljam all along, Pure Vanilla Cookie didn’t mind the reaction. His Souljam was different after all, a lesson learned through the many trials and tribulations with it. He wouldn’t have his bundle of entropy any other way.

He closed his fingers around the stone, allowing its energy to pulse through him.  

“Why are you smiling so much?”  

Pure Vanilla turned to see Gingerbrave standing beside him, peering up with bright, curious eyes. He had an honest curiosity that was terribly endearing.

Pure Vanilla chuckled, reaching out to pat the boy’s head. “I’m just excited for a new adventure, that's all.”  

Gingerbrave grinned. “Now way, me too! I know Beast Yeast is supposed to be super scary but I’m up for the challenge!”  

“Ever the brave one.” He smiled.

Behind them, Gingerbrave’s other two friends were in the middle of their own discussion. Wizard Cookie, priding in his intelligence, was leaning over the ship’s railing, pointing out landmarks below. Strawberry Cookie, however, stood a little more stiffly, her fingers tightening around the strings of her hoodie.  

“How are you feeling, Strawberry Cookie?” Pure Vanilla asked, stepping closer.  

She exhaled, offering a small, sheepish smile. “I’m fine. Just... It feels strange. I’ve never been this far from home before.”  

He nodded, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to fear so long as we are together.”  

Strawberry Cookie let out a quiet sigh. “You’re right.”  

The four of them now stood together, gazing out over the forests of Beast Yeast. The air was dry, filled with the scent of moss and distant rain. For a moment, all was calm.  

Then, the airship lurched.  

Pure Vanilla’s grip tightened on the railing as the entire vessel shuddered violently. The sails snapped in the wind, the once steady hum of the engines sputtering into chaos.  

“What’s happening?!” Wizard Cookie cried out.  

Pure Vanilla spun, his eyes darting to the helm. Strawberry cookie was scrambling to regain control, but the ship was tilting—falling. They must’ve hit something because the world outside blurred as the vessel began to spiral downward.  

“The airship is crashing! Everyone hold on tight!” Pure Vanilla shouted.  

Strawberry Cookie let out a startled yelp as a particularly violent rumble made her lose her footing. With no time to think, Pure Vanilla lunged, grabbing all three children and shielding them with his arms the best he could. As an ancient, he dwarfed the children in size, and as the adult in the situation, he was glad to take the brunt force of the crash if it meant they didn’t get crumbled. 

There was little else he could do as the trees of Beast Yeast rushed up to meet them, the wind roaring in his ears.  

And then— impact.  

—

Instead of the wreckage and blood he was expecting, Pure Vanilla’s eyes were greeted by a soft, blue glow. The bushes beneath him—the very one he was supposed to brutally smack into— were cradling his body like it had caught him in its arms. 

He exhaled, the weight of relief settling over him like a warm blanket. He glanced down at his Souljam. It pulsed with a steady rhythm. ‘Thank you.’ Pure Vanilla thought, his fingers gently brushing over its surface. It hummed in response, as if acknowledging his gratitude.  

Noticing the weight on his lap, Pure Vanilla looked down to see Gingerbrave latched on. His eyes were squeezed shut, same as Strawberry Cookie, who buried herself into his arms, practically disappearing into his robe. Wizard Cookie was the most pitiful of the group, frozen in place like a stone as he breathed heavily.

With a soft chuckle, Pure Vanilla gave them each a small nudge. “We’re okay, my friends.” he said, trying to keep his voice calm for the children despite the lingering adrenaline in his veins.  

Gingerbrave was the first to stir. His eyes fluttered open, and upon seeing Pure Vanilla’s reassuring smile, the tension in his body melted away. “We’re alive?” he asked in a small, breathless voice.  

Pure Vanilla Cookie nodded. “Seems so.”  

Wizard Cookie groaned, rubbing his temples as he unfroze. “Everything’s… spinning…”  

Pure Vanilla steadied him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “Take a deep breath. You’ll be alright.”  

Strawberry Cookie, however, remained clammed up. Her hands refused to let go of his robe, face terribly pale. Pure Vanilla frowned at this. He reached out, resting a gentle hand on her back. “Strawberry Cookie?”  

She blinked rapidly, then inhaled sharply as if surfacing from deep water. Her gaze darted around, wild and unfocused, before settling on him. “We crashed,” she whispered, her voice trembling.  

“We did,” Pure Vanilla said. “But we’re okay. You’re okay.”  

She swallowed hard and gave a shaky nod. He offered her his hand and after a moment’s hesitation, she took it, letting him help her, and the rest of the group up from the shrubbery. The blue bushes vanished into the earth once their feet touched the ground. Pure Vanilla Cookie could only blink at the sight before taking a moment to assess everyone’s condition. 

“Is anyone hurt?” He asked.

Gingerbrave stretched his arms above his head, testing out his limbs. “Nah, I think I’m good!”

Strawberry Cookie dusted the dirt and ash off her hoodie, her hands still shaking slightly. “I-I’m okay. Just a little… dirty.”  

Wizard Cookie, however, was a different story. He must’ve taken the brunt of the group because Pure Vanilla spotted a small cut on his cheek immediately, a thin red line standing out against his otherwise fair skin. His hair was a tangled mess of leaves too, his wizard hat suffering much of the same fate. 

Pure Vanilla crouched before him, carefully plucking the leaves from his milky white hair. “Hold still,” he said.  

Wizard Cookie huffed, trying to sound unbothered, though his eyes betrayed him rather quickly. “I don’t look that bad, do I?”  

Pure Vanilla smiled as he plucked away the last stubborn leaf that made its home in the young boy's hair. “Not at all. Forgive me for not protecting you more.”  

Once Wizard Cookie looked presentable again, Pure Vanilla Cookie placed his fingers near the cut on Wizard Cookie's cheek. He closed his eyes, allowing the warmth of his magic to flow from his fingertips. A soft golden light surrounded the wound and within seconds, the skin knitted itself back together.  

Wizard cookie touched the healed area and beamed. “T-Thank you!”

Pure Vanilla was about to speak but Gingerbrave, who was watching the interaction intently, suddenly gasped after realising something. “You’re completely fine, Pure Vanilla Cookie. There’s not even dust on you!”  

Pure Vanilla straightened, briefly glancing at his Souljam. “I’m quite lucky,” he said simply. 

Gingerbrave made a little ‘huh’ noise, but before he could press further, Pure Vanilla Cookie turned his attention to their surroundings. The forest had an odd atmosphere to it. Strange green fungi pulsed faintly on the trunks, casting an eerie glow through the mist that curled around their ankles. There was no sign of their ship—or their destination.

Pure Vanilla’s expression hardened. They couldn’t stay here. Not without knowing what lurked in this unfamiliar, and clearly dangerous, land.  

He adjusted his walking staff, which had somehow survived the crash untouched too, then looked at his companions. “If everyone’s feeling okay, let’s move. We need to figure out where we are.”  

Strawberry Cookie swallowed, still visibly shaken, but nodded. She found her place right behind him, using Pure Vanilla like a shield. The others quickly filed behind. Realising that he was leading the group now, Pure Vanilla stepped into the depths of the glowing forest, idly following the pull his Souljam gave.

—

Jingle 

Jingle 

Silverbell Cookie walked with effortless grace, his white wings shimmering under the dappling sunlight. With every delicate step, a soft chime rang through the air, like the wind itself carried his presence.  

Pure Vanilla Cookie couldn't stop staring.  

Faeries, from his knowledge, were supposed to be nothing more than folklore, legends buried in forbidden texts. He and White Lily Cookie had spent nights huddled together in the dim candlelight of the library, sneaking into the forbidden section just to read about them. The books described them as elusive guardians of the cookie world. But none of the texts had ever confirmed their existence. It had all been hearsay.  

And yet, here Silverbell was. Real, tangible, and guiding them to a land that was never thought to exist.  

That still didn’t top off the second revelation today: White Lily Cookie was here. The same woman who left him, disappeared for years. She was not just living among the faeries—she was a hero to them. 

“I’m relieved to know you are friends with White Lily Cookie. We could use all the help we can get.” Silverbell glanced over his shoulder, his voice twinged like a soft melody. His milky white hair caught the glow of the fungi, making them seem even more ethereal.  

Pure Vanilla Cookie chuckled, shaking his head. “As am I. To know she has travelled so far, helped so many…”  

Gingerbrave, wide-eyed with wonder, quickened his pace to walk beside the faerie. “I’m still getting over the fact that faerie cookies are real! That’s amazing! Does that mean other creatures from old stories are real too? Like the Licorice Leviathan? Kandy Korn Krakens? ”  

“Oh, uhm. I’m not sure,” Silverbell Cookie held up a slender hand, overwhelmed. “Us faeries aren’t permitted to travel that far...”  

Wizard Cookie rolled his eyes, bonking Gingerbrave with his staff. “You’ll have to excuse him. Give him permission, and he’ll keep talking all day.”  

Then, without warning, Silverbell stopped.  

The group halted behind him, exchanging confused glances. Before them was nothing but an empty clearing. No buildings, no signs of life. Just an open expanse surrounded by towering trees.

Wizard Cookie frowned. “Was it something I said?” 

Silverbell Cookie turned to face them again, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. “We have arrived.”  

Gingerbrave looked around. “Uh… are you sure? I don’t see anything.”  

Silverbell’s lips curled into a small smile. “That is because the Faerie kingdom is hidden. Only revealed to those of the Fae.”  

Before any of them could ask what that meant, Silverbell lifted his hands and began to trace symbols in the air. Glowing threads of white magic formed between his fingers, weaving together into an intricate pattern. The soft chimes that accompanied his every step now rang in harmony, forming an enchanting melody. And with a final flourish, he clapped his hands together, and the world before them shimmered.  

The air rippled, like a pond disturbed by a single drop of water. Like a veil had been lifted before their very eyes, an entire kingdom unfolded before them.  

A collective gasp escaped the group.  

The Faerie kingdom was breathtaking. Delicate, silver bridges arched between tall, spiraling towers, their architecture impossibly intricate, as if woven by the forest itself. Fairies of all sizes and colours flitted between the buildings, their wings trailing magic in their wake. The air smelled of something ancient, like the old books Pure Vanilla dearly loved, threaded with the crispness of morning dew. It felt like they had stepped into a dream.  

Gingerbrave, his usual energy replaced with sheer awe, whispered “Woah… This is amazing!”  

What captured Pure Vanillas' attention was not the architecture— beautiful as it was. At the very heart of it all stood a massive silver tree, its bulging roots twisting elegantly into the ground, leaves shimmering with countless shades of white and blue. It looked to be the hub of all activity in the kingdom. And wrapped around its impressive stature, were thick, glowing vines, binding a noticeable crack in the wood.

His heart thrummed at this sight of it, Souljam causing yet another pull. Stronger this time. He swallowed, fingers instinctively reaching for the stone. It pulsed against his skin like it was responding to the tree's presence. Strange…

Silverbell Cookie watched the group's reaction with a knowing smile. “Welcome to my home, the Faerie Kingdom.”

Silverbell Cookie then led them to a grand archway in the more private areas of the Kingdom. The entrance was woven from branches that glowed faintly in the dim light. There was something unmistakably homely about it all. Beyond it, nestled within the sacred grove was a clearing. And in the centre of it—  

White Lily Cookie

She lay inside an intricate glass case that was lovingly decorated with offerings. Soft silver light bathed her form, casting a glow on her peaceful face. She looked exactly as he remembered, yet different. Though White Lily’s expression was that of a peaceful slumber, there was an undeniable tension in her features. She had always been strong, always carried that fire in her eyes. Now, even in sleep, she seemed worn out by the world.  

Oh how Pure Vanilla wanted to ease the tension she held. To support her. For years, he had wondered where she had gone off to now, if she had ever thought of him, if she had found what she was looking for when she left him behind. He had imagined a thousand different fates for her—none of them this.  

Pure Vanilla’s hands trembled as he stepped forward. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and pressed his palm against the cool, glass surface of her case.  

“Hello, old friend.” he whispered.

Pure Vanilla swallowed the lump in his throat, his emotions warring within him—relief, sorrow, longing. She left so long ago and now that they’re finally reunited, he couldn’t even even talk to her. 

“White Lily Cookie saved us all,” Silverbell said softly. His usual, flagrant tone was absent now, replaced by a solemn reverence.  

Pure Vanilla tore his eyes away from White Lily just long enough to glance at the faerie. “How?”  

Silverbell exhaled, wings fluttering slightly. “The Silver tree, the very thing we Fae dedicate ourselves to protecting,” he said, looking up at the monument of their kingdom with an unreadable gaze, “contains evil Beasts. Creatures of destruction that constantly threaten to escape. They nearly did, once. But White Lily cookie cast a spell, one that rivalled the strength of our own leader Elder Faerie Cookie and resealed the Silver Tree! She prevented a disaster that would’ve affected all cookie kind. 

Sadness flashed across his face, dimming the sparkle he had when describing her accomplishments. “And yet, we can’t do anything for her. She… had an accident soon after.” 

Gingerbrave hesitated before stepping forward. “So… she’s alive?”  

“Yes,” Silverbell confirmed. “But she has not woken since.”  

Pure Vanilla Cookie let his hand rest against the glass, closing his eyes for a moment. He had always known she was an overachiever. Had always known she had a heart too big for her own good. And still, he had never imagined this would be her fate. Just what did she see?

Before he could dwell any further, a voice echoed in his mind, curling around his thoughts like mist. It was not spoken aloud, yet it resonated within him, just like White Lily’s memory shards.

“White Lily cookie needs your help. She must wake up, Pure Vanilla Cookie… So that she may hear my voice once more”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes snapped open. He pulled back sharply, glancing around. The voice was clear, distinct—yet no one else seemed to have heard it.  

Gingerbrave placed his hand over his. “What’s wrong?”  

Pure Vanilla glanced briefly at the boy, then turned back toward White Lily, watching for any sign of movement, any flicker of consciousness behind her closed eyelids. “I… I heard something.”  

Strawberry Cookie’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”  

“A voice,” he said slowly. “I think it was the voice of Freedom. It told me I needed to wake her up.”  

Gingerbrave crossed his arms. “Are you sure this isn’t some kind of trick? Dark Enchantress cookie did the same by using fragments of White Lily’s Souljam before!”  

Pure Vanilla shook his head. “No. It...” He turned to the group, his jaw set with quiet determination. “Even if Dark Enchantress cookie seizes all of the Souljams, she can never possess the Light of Freedom for it could only shine for White Lily cookie and her alone.”  

Before anyone could respond, the air shifted.  

The temperature seemed to drop slightly, and a new presence entered the clearing. A tall figure stepped forward, clad in armour forged from silver and mercury. His wings were larger than Silverbells, more rigid, like those of a warrior honed by battle. His gaze was as sharp as a blade, and when he moved, there was no wasted motion—only precision.  

A knight.  

“You were reckless to bring outsiders here, Silverbell Cookie,” the knight grimaced, his voice low and poised with authority.  

Silverbell flinched slightly but held their ground. “They mean no harm, Mercurial Knight Cookie.”  

Mercurial Knight Cookie turned his cold gaze toward Pure Vanilla and his companions, assessing them with quiet intensity. “That remains to be seen.” His wings shifted slightly before he added, “Elder Faerie Cookie wishes to see them. Now.”  

Pure Vanilla straightened, instinctively standing taller. That must be their leader, and if the stern look Mercurial Knight was giving them meant anything, he could be ruthless. “Then we shall follow.” 

With one last lingering look at White Lily, Pure Vanilla gathered his friends and followed the faerie deeper into the heart of the Kingdom.

—

Pure Vanilla Cookie wandered the quiet garden, his footsteps slow and measured. The air here was lighter, carrying the soft fragrance of the white lilies that blanketed the area in delicate waves. 

This place had been made for White Lily Cookie.  

Elder Faerie Cookie—an impossibly graceful yet powerful presence—had spoken of her with reverence during their meeting. The people of this kingdom adored her, honoured her sacrifice and even now in her slumber, they kept her name alive in song. The lilies too, had been planted in her name.

Pure Vanilla knelt beside one, running his fingers over its soft petals.  

From the moment they met as children, she had burned brighter than anyone he had ever known. She was restless, bound by no chains, always searching, always reaching for something greater. And he—he had watched from a distance, always half a step behind. Now, as he stood among these flowers, the weight of it all pressed down on him.  

‘Had I ever truly understood her?’

He had always thought he knew her but standing here, in the place where she had given everything, he realised how little he had known of her pain. The weight she carried alone. She had fought a fierce battle in silence, never calling for help. Never looking back.  

She was always out of reach.  

Pure Vanilla’s throat tightened. He couldn’t grasp why their distance hurt so much. Was he truly that dependant on her?

Then, as though the thought had conjured it, the truth struck him like a blade through the ribs.  

He wanted White Lily Cookie to confide in him. He wanted her to share her burdens, to tell him her fears, to lean on him the way he had leaned on her. She had always been running, always looking toward the horizon, while he had been standing in place, hoping one day she would turn around.  

Because he—  

He clenched his jaw.  

He loved her.

A sudden pain flared in his chest.  

Pure Vanilla gasped, collapsing unceremoniously onto the ground, clutching his chest as heat burned through him. His Souljam now pulsed with a violent intensity, sending shockwaves of magic through his body. It was no longer a calming hum—it was fire, desperate and angry.  

He tried to find stable footing in the pain, his breaths were laboured, frail gasps. The lilies around him trembled, their petals wilting slightly under the force of his magic. He grit his teeth, trying to push the pain down, trying to breathe.

“Pure Vanilla Cookie!”

The voice was sharp, cutting through the haze. Pure Vanilla forced himself to look up, his vision swimming until it focused on the imposing figure of Mercurial Knight. “Your presence is requested— immediately.”  

Pure Vanilla fought to steady his breathing. “What… what’s happening?”  

Mercurial Knight took in his disheveled form, and for the first time, his expression betrayed something close to concern. He knelt down, helping Pure Vanilla regain his footing.

“The spell is breaking. Elder Faerie Cookie and your friends are already waiting at the Silver tree.” He turned on his heel, wings spreading slightly as he moved. “There isn’t much time.”

Pure Vanilla’s breath caught. The last hope the cookie world had against the beasts was breaking.  

“Lead the way!” Ignoring the lingering burn in his chest, he pushed himself to his feet and followed the knight, leaving the garden of white lilies behind.