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Most probably wouldn't believe it if he said it, but for world-ending cookies, the Beasts were surprisingly… predictable. 

Naturally, some would doubt the sentiment (mostly because it came out of Shadow Milk's mouth- y’know, out of principle) but it wasn't a lie! Really!

They were the Witches’ first Champions, cut from the same batch of dough with only a variety of ingredients setting them apart. While their personalities differed greatly, there was something about their base natures none could part with- their corruption only accentuating the rougher sides of their personalities. 

It only made sense that when thrown in together, conflict was bound to arise.

See, while all the Beasts aspired to conquer Earthbread, they all had very different perspectives as to what said conquered Earthbread actually looked like. Burning Spice wants to end the natural lifecycle, Mystic Flour wants to never have it occur to begin with, and so on. This resulted in a good batch of turmoil within the Beast’s ranks, petty squabbles that weren’t at all helpful in the whole conquering-the-world thing.

Contrary to popular belief though, the five Beasts still did have some honor among them. In the name of camaraderie, they’ve sworn to keep their hands to themselves, meaning unscheduled visits weren’t to be taken lightly. 

They only got together in scheduled meetings, and even those felt unnecessary in Shadow Milk’s humble opinion. 

Silent Salt said it's good to keep in contact for strategy reasons. Burning Spice-the militaristic brute-emphatically agreed. Mystic Flour’s apathy prevents her from having any interesting opinions on the matter, and Eternal Sugar says she’ll sleep through the meetings anyway. 

Simpletons … and yet entirely expected. See what he means?

Aside from whatever property damage Burning Spice brought to the Ivory Pagoda, the excitement of such meetings was consistently dull. ‘Faerie Kingdom’ this and ‘Ancients’ that- like yeah, Shadow Milk hates them too, but it just gets to a point, ya know? 

The only reprieve to the boring mess was the occasional games the others would indulge him in. The Beasts were sturdy opponents, dough baked to endure and weather, meaning they wouldn’t crumble as easily as his usual toys. 

Eternal Sugar tended to be his most frequent playmate, seeing as she was the only one who shared in his love for all things fun and mischievous… at least when she could muster up the energy for it (Considering she was the Beast of Sloth, it wasn't very often).

Thankfully, luck is on his side today. Both Beasts float in the air, an assortment of sweets and cakes hovering alongside their chairs as they play their chess game. Below them sat a proper round table, a cluttered map of Beast Yeast stretched out across it as the actual battle plans came to fruition.

“Perhaps we ought to relocate while we can,” Silent Salt had suggested, their baritone voice projected through their mask. “Activity within Beast Yeast’s borders has increased exponentially. The Ancients are setting up camp somewhere within the fog.”

“A tad dramatic, don't you think?” Burning Spice gruffed out in response, his militaristic side already rearing its head. “Changing locations implies we would be putting ourselves in foreign territory- it may end up working against us. Besides, do we even have proof that they're associated with the Ancients? Seems more like a hoard of runts if you ask me.”

“You believe everyone is a runt until proven otherwise,” Mystic Flour helpfully points out, pouring herself another cup of fragrant peach tea. “If Silent Salt has a problem with their presence, then we ought not to dismiss them so brazenly.” 

“I’m not dismissing anything,” The Great Destroyer defends staunchly, cat eyes thinning as he crosses his arms. “I’m just stating the facts. We should know about our opponents before making the first move. Basic strategy rules.”

Eternal Sugar moves one of her pawns across the board, her brows furrowed with concentration. Shadow Milk yawns and takes a sip from his wine, half-heartedly waving his hand and conjuring his knight to move a step forward. 

The horse neighs frightfully before violently chomping the smaller pawn, wood crunching and splintering as it's eaten. The pink Beast's feathers puffed out in annoyance.

“-A reasonable point, Master,” Nutmeg Tiger Cookie adds in, the feline cookie dutifully sitting by her General’s side. “I’d like to volunteer my men for scouting missions. We can find out what these outsiders’ intentions are while keeping our distance.” 

Shadow Milk's laugh slips out; really, he can't help it. He tries to hide his grin behind his glass of aged Blueberry juice, but the Great Destroyer’s second in command still looks up to send him a scathing look.

“Do you find humor within my suggestion, Great Beast of Deceit?” The General asks as politely as she can, at least recognizing her place as his inferior.

“Puh- lease,” Shadow Milk huffed, sending a gust of wind to blow Eternal Sugar’s hair into her face, quickly taking a handful of her leftover pawns and shoving them in his mouth. “Sorry, Sergeant Whiskers, but- crunch crunch -your circus of monkeys only knows how to do two things: crumble and kill. If you wanna find out what they're planning instead of finding out what their insides look like, you'll need subtlety, not brute force.”

“While I mean no ill will, Great Beast, I wasn’t planning on ordering my men to ‘use brute force’.” The tiger cookie defends tonelessly, long tail lashing with annoyance behind her. “The Wild Spices can have tact when needed.”

Shadow Milk scoffs, rolling his eyes into his head. “Well, I certainly mean ill will when I say that’s dumb and a lie. Your pawns are about as useless as Sugarcube's here.” He hums, happily plucking the other's queen off the board. “Checkmate!” 

Eternal Sugar hummed, her usual smile flattened into an unhappy line. “You cheated.” 

Shadow Milk scoffs, picking wood out of his teeth. “Well, duh-doy. Who do you think you're playing against?” 

“She falls for it every time…” Black Sapphire mutters below him, busily writing away at the stenographer's log. 

“Knock it off, Shadow Milk,” The Great Destroyer admonishes- just about as polite as he can get, actually. Usually he just throws stuff at anyone who bothers him. “I personally found Nutmeg Tiger Cookie’s suggestion very reasonable. Not like I’m hearing any other suggestions here though, am I?”

A chorus of unsure murmurs spans across the room. Shadow Milk groans dramatically, flopping over his cushy seat to the point he's about half hanging off it. 

“You guys are way too caught up in this,” he murmurs, kicking his legs back with a dismissive yawn. "But fine, go waste your time getting nothing done. Not like any of my alternatives would interest you anyhow."

“Oh?” Burning Spice tilted his head, the burning in his eyes crinkling as he gave him a predatory grin. “Care to share with the rest of the class, wise sage ?” 

Ignoring the dig, Shadow Milk hums a cheerful tune. “Runes, of course. Activation spells more specifically. They'll sense when someone's nearby and start recording their audio. Not that any of you would know that. They're a pain to set up, and extending them for longer periods of time take… well, time. Painfully easy to mock up aside from that; I bet even that stupid Nilla could set it up.”

“Talking about that Ancient again?” Eternal Sugar giggled, wings fluttering as she did so. “My, how obsessive.”

Shadow Milk whips his eyes towards the other, gaze scathing. “I am not obsessive.”

“Are too.”

“Are not!”

“ -If such runes are as easy to mock up as you say they are, ” Mystic's monotone voice presses forward, wisely attempting to steer the conversation back towards a more productive direction. “...Then I’m sure it'd be little issue for someone of your expertise to conjure a few up for our sake.”

Shadow Milk leaned down, grinning widely at the older cookie. “My my, Mystic. Flattery will get you anywhere,” he hums, waving a dismissive hand. “I suppose I could spare a few hours of my precious time and oh so generously gift you with a few runes, but only because you asked so nicely.”

“Perhaps you should have been the Beast of Arrogance, Shadow Milk. It suits you well,” Burning Spice chuckled, which earned him an empty wine glass thrown directly at his face. It smashes against his face on impact, the other completely unphased as shards fall away from his face. “Are we done here then?” 

“Not quite,” Silent Salt interrupts, dark armor clanking as they step up to the table. “I'd like to go over plans of action, should the Ancients actually be behind this.”

This time, it feels like almost the entire room lets out a groan of impatience. 

“This again?” Burning Spice scoffs.

“Enemies are not to be underestimated. Especially not ones that possess half our Soul Jams.”

“Ugh.” Shadow Milk stuffs a pastry into his mouth, idly pleased by its sweet taste. “You act like we'll have to evacuate at the mere sight of them.”

“Huh? Evacuation?” Burning Spice murmurs speculatively. “I have not traveled outside of Beast Yeast since my previous conquests… perhaps it is not such a bad idea.”

“Wait, travelling? Like, moving and stuff?” The Beast of Sloth audibly groans, petulantly throwing herself back in her floating chair, dramatically snuggling into its cushions. “Ugh, it sounds like so much work… but oh! Oh!"

Eternal Sugar brightens as an idea seems to come to mind, her bubbly pink shine a stark contrast to the washed-out stillness of the Ivory Pagoda. “-Maybe we should go together, all of us! Strength in numbers, right? Plus, it'd make for a nice family road trip. When's the last time we had one of those?”

“Not since our sealment,” Mystic Flour provides helpfully, dull voice empty of emotion.

“We're travelling?!” The little Haetae suddenly pops up beside his master, tail wagging back and forth. “Mister Black Sapphire, can I sit with Candy Apple on the ride over?”

“Why are you asking me? It's not like I'm her warden.” Black Sapphire raises a brow, peeking over the top of his paper tower. “Besides, why would you want to anyway? Don't you two fight, like, all the time ?”

“Only when she's being annoying.” 

“Not exactly narrowing it down here...” 

“If we pack ourselves together like a can of sardines, it'll be impossible to hide our whereabouts.” Shadow Milk notes, smile hiking up with amusement. “Besides, what's there to run from? Like I'm scared of a few more cookies hanging around my Spire. I say let them look! Bask in the glory of my brilliant aura! It's the closest they'll come to physical greatness!”

“Cough Arrogance Cough,” Burning Spice fake coughs, earning a myriad of low chuckles across the room- much to his annoyance.

“In any case, for the sake of making myself clear, I have absolutely no plans of leaving the Ivory Pagoda.” Mystic Flour idly flipped through her old scrolls, not even bothering to look at anyone as she spoke. “Running means we are, in some form, shackled to the Ancients' authority, and I've long grown tired of being a prisoner. I shall make my stand here.”

Then, in a lower voice, she adds, “It is up to fate if I survive or return to flour. Such as we are all destined to.”

“Wheat Flour Cookie…” Eternal Sugar echoed sorrowfully,

“It is your decision, Mystic Flour,” Silent Salt affirms.

“I concur with Mystic Flour’s sentiments!” Burning Spice nods avidly, sharp teeth shining as he smiles pridefully. “While kingdoms rise and fall like the sun, there is no pride in fleeing a battle! I shall demolish whatever dares step into my path!” 

Shadow Milk stays silent, watching the morbid scene unfold before him. Jeez, are they all seriously saying they’re fine with dying? And he thought he was dramatic…

“Well,” Eternal Sugar sniffles, awkwardly drying her tears along the feathers in her arms. “In case anything happens, I want to wish you all well. I know those stupid cookies probably won't even leave a scratch on our dough, but I thought I- I'd- sniff - I'd just- oh goodness, I can't bear it!”

Shadow Milk barely has time to react before he's pummeled with an armful of pink feathers and bird talons, the tackle so sudden it breaks his concentration on his floating spell. They both come careening down, chair and trays flipped over in a catastrophic mess of pastries and splintered wood.

“Hey hey hey! What the hell?!” Shadow Milk snarled. “Why'd you even grab me for? I wasn't even a part of this discussion!”

“Y-you were the closest… and- and everyone else was so far… ”

“Ugh, you lazy -!” He cuts himself off, resisting the urge to grab her outright and toss her aside. “Mush! Get off me!” 

The Beast of Apathy looks out at the mess that had become their meeting room. “Another mess in my Pagoda…” Mystic Flour mourns, the toneless drawl of her voice contrasting the judgment in her thinned, scolding eyes. “You insist on your dramatics, even when I caution you this could be the result.”

“Watch where your finger's pointing, Flourpower. I didn't do this!” He animatedly gestures to Eternal Sugar beside him, who was still getting up to her feet. “Blame Miss Pink Flamingo here. I had it all under control before she decided to pounce on me like some- some animal!” 

“Like Nutmeg Cookie!” The Haetae cheers happily, earning a huff from the furred general. 

“My apologies,” the pink beast warbles out, rubbing a taloned hand over her glassy eyes. “I'm- sniff -I’m just so sad now…” 

Shadow Milk scowls bitterly. “Oh, get over yourself already! This isn't a funeral- though it might as well be with how everyone's talking.”

“Has the subject matter not roused any emotions out of you, little brother?” Silent Salt peered over the table, their height dwarfing his own now that he was forced back onto his two feet. Ugh. “With how impassioned your opinions usually are, surely you must feel some sort of way on the matter.”

The jester huffs, holding his head up in revulsion. “As if! I swear, you're all worrying your heads over nothing. Who cares about ‘more activity’ in Beast Yeast? I certainly don't! Besides, if anything, more Cookies just means more toys for me to play with.”

“Ever the deceitful little cookie you are.” Silent Salt stepped forward until he was right in front of him, stretching out an armored hand and flicking the dust off his ruff. “I understand. If your nature prevents you from sharing a moment of honesty, then I will in your stead:”

The Beast stands back then, regarding the other occupants of the room with the same neutrality that helmet always gave them.

“I care greatly for all of your well-beings,” they spoke sagely, the words curt and final. “And I hope you all triumph over whatever long battles come next.” 

A chorus of agreement rings out from all the others, cheers and jeers filling the war room. Burning Spice starts to spout nonsense about his battle prowess or something, while Eternal Sugar raves about getting herself a new dragon skin to wear. Mystic Flour doesn’t share her approval vocally, but her slight nod of approval might as well count.

Shadow Milk simply opts to let out a dramatic scoff. What mindless sheep. Roused by the simplest of words. They were always so easy to please- almost as easy as it was picking fights between each other.

Shadow Milk and Black Sapphire return to the Spire later, arriving back home under the shine of moonlight. His servant wisely makes no comment on the other Beast's rather saccharine behavior towards him, and Shadow Milk doesn't bother speaking on it any further. Being the youngest Beast means future teasing is inevitable; so long as they don’t go overboard, accepting his fate isn’t the most tedious thing in the world. 

Candy Apple accosts them both when they arrive, fuming with jealousy at her brother’s attendance at a Beast meeting. Black Sapphire tells her off, saying she ‘wouldn’t have taken it seriously’ even if she had gone. Shadow Milk could have told her she hadn't missed out on much, but he's half certain that any sort of acknowledgement would have only driven her madness further.

After a long day's work, the sound of familial squabbling is… not so bad to come home to. 

Not even a week later, Burning Spice Cookie is crumbled.

His brother's end comes in the form of a single unassuming letter, Mystic Flour’s neat handwriting detailing the horrible occasion with thinly veiled upset. The fight had only reached her when a few of the Wild Spice inhabitants sought refuge in her Pagoda, bruised and shaken in the odd hours of the morning. She urges him not to go to the Land of Spice, as it is now occupied by ‘hostile combatants’.

‘While the sting is fresh and painful,’ his older sister writes, her stupidly rigid vocabulary perfectly capturing her monotone voice. ‘I hope we can at least find comfort in the fact that Saffron perished honorably, doing what he loved most: fighting to the death. His return to flour was as spectacular as his life.’

‘He wouldn't have wanted it any other way.’

Shadow Milk is not familiar with grief, as far as he can remember. He's only ever felt variations of anger, annoyance, and bitterness- all given to him by gods who sought to destroy everything he was meant to be. Anything else was left behind in the husk of a Silver Tree, now belonging to a life that was no longer his own. 

It was not like this, though. Never this. A hollow ache so crushing, so distinctly different from the one his empty Soul Jam left behind. Shadow Milk's lost a lot of things in his lifetime, far too many to count, but his fellow Beasts were factors he had never worried about losing. Not when everything that ever dared threaten them was so pathetically weak by comparison.

Now he has to wonder if that had been a lie too- a horrible one at that. He wants to shake it off more than anything, move on, but the odd feeling clings to him like a parasite. 

He imagines Burning Spice Cookie, The Great Destroyer, and the passion with which he fought every single battle as if it were his last. The rare sheepishness that would come over him after a good scolding from Mystic Flour over destroying half of her Pagoda. The utter satisfaction in his flaming eyes at being completely covered in the blood red jam of his foes. 

He imagines Saffron Cookie, still untouched by the deep-seated corruption all of them eventually fell to, dearly beloved by the denizens of a kingdom he raised all on his own. The times he had to begrudgingly ask the Fount of Knowledge for his help on setting up his citizens’ education system. The gentleness with which he handled laughing kids who eagerly used his hulking body as a personal jungle gym.

He imagines his big brother, fresh from the oven, still eager to pick him and his younger siblings up for piggyback rides, declaring his determination to protect them from any enemies that dare stand in his path-

It's too much.

A measly seven days later, Silent Salt demise follows close after. 

The news comes just as unexpectedly as the former. Apparently, even Mystic Flour doesn't know how it happened, only that her subjects happened across their armor in their residence, alongside the aftermath of a vicious battle. Mystic's handwriting is shaky and scratchy, a far cry from its usual neat formatting she's developed after preserving so many scrolls.

She says there could be a chance they could have fled, as there was no body to prove their status. Shadow Milk knows it's not true. Silent Salt would never have run from a fight. 

“Write back to me at your earliest convenience. Please,” she adds at the end of her letter, her words lack their usual graceful flair. “Stay vigilant.”

Shadow Milk doesn't even have the time to grieve, learns quickly that it's best to forgo the news altogether. With two Beasts being brought down so close together, it's clear their opponents are on a warpath. He needs to get busy, and get busy now.

He gets to work building runes. Not the ones Mystic Flour had ordered (Ancients or not, this threat has obviously proved itself catastrophic), but powerful ones. Ones he’d planned to save for a dire confrontation, something that feels imminent at this point.

Candy Apple whines about his busy schedule. Back Sapphire worries about him and his health. Shadow Milk brushes them both away, the unfamiliar seriousness in his tone sign enough that he was not to be tested.

Another letter arrives on Sunday. The immediate feeling of dread that pierced him is vicious, already making him fear the worst, though it's quickly offset by the very recognizable Vanilla Kingdom sigil melted at the front. 

Suddenly feeling much more awake, the Beast tears it open without a second thought, drinking in its contents.

'Dear Shadow Milk,

You likely already know why I'm contacting you. On the off chance you are unaware, I must make you aware of my friend's current happenings within Beast Yeast:

The Ancients are making a stand against the Beasts.

No matter my pleadings or my reasonings towards alternatives, the majority of the Ancients have cast their votes in favor of the Beast's… forceful expulsions. The results have been scarily effective, and it's only driven my worry for you further. 

I cannot expand on their plans for fear of compromising their safety, but I must warn you, it is not something you ought to brush off. 

Shadow Milk Cookie, I know you do not see me in good standing, but please, I beg of you- cast aside your judgment for just one moment and heed my words:

Flea. Leave Beast Yeast, run away as far as you can. It is not safe for you here. While I do fear for my friend's safety, I fear for yours the most right now.

Surrendering would grant you the most merciful hand, and I do believe my friends would allow it should you yield. For all their discontent, they are not unreasonable company. 

However, I know your nature all too well by now. You are stubborn and dedicated to your craft, and I acknowledge that convincing you to capitulate would be close to an impossible task.

Know that I would have pledged in your favor if you did.

Still, however, I pray you consider the contents of this letter carefully. A lot of things are happening right now, and I only wish to see you unharmed by the end of it.

Take care, 

Pure Vanilla’

Shadow Milk gives the letter a once over, gaze empty and unimpressed. Perhaps if he had received this just a week earlier, he may have been more excited- probably would have danced with joy at the endless prospects of deceit he could get out of such declarations. 

After everything he's done to him, the daft fool still insists on playing nice. Absurd.

And yet… Shadow Milk feels nothing. No whimsy or joy; just bitter, jadded annoyance. The note bursts into flames as soon as he feeds it to his fireplace, tempted to just forget its existence entirely.

Still, for all his annoyance, he has an image to preserve. The Beast conjures up a boxing glove on a spring and tucks it away into an unassuming gift box, before handing it off to one of his rabbit minions to make the journey for personal delivery. 

Shadow Milk doesn't expect it to trace Pure Vanilla back (if the stupid Ancient was even in Beast Yeast to begin with), but the mischievous trickery of the very prospect is familiar in a way he had long missed.

He grins to himself, pleasantly satisfied, and gets back to work.

—

The news of Mystic Flour's death comes to him by rather unnatural means. 

In hindsight, had he been more attentive, the lack of correspondence from the older Beast ought to have set him off sooner. But he had, admittedly, been too preoccupied with his creations to truly notice.

It's not until Cloud Haetae is bursting through the Spire’s front door on all fours, edges of their dough burnt and crispy with ash, that the news comes barreling out of their mouth. 

“The Ancients- they- they stormed the Ivory Pagoda at night.” The poor Haetae is crying so hard, it can barely get the words out past the stream of tears. Candy Apple gently patted their shoulder, holding out a box of tissues with terribly sorrowful eyes. “Master- sniffle -she took them on, ordered me t-to run when things got bad. She gave it everything she had, but they overwhelmed her and- hic -Master- she- she -”

Their words petered off under a deluge of tears, their hysterics suddenly getting the best of them. Shadow Milk forgoes the rest of the story, certainly not eager to hear the details.

He instead takes it upon himself to let the poor child get settled in his Spire, ordering his servants to get the child settled while he worked. Candy Apple is able to distract the Haetae from the slaughter’s tragedy well enough, but it does little to tamper the heavy feeling that seems to cling to the Spire now with the child's residency. All in all, the end of the day comes with a heavy feeling of dread settling over his chest.

Shadow Milk sends out a letter to Eternal Sugar Cookie, practically demanding a cohesive status update from her. She's never been known to write her correspondence in a timely fashion, so realistically, he ought to have little hope of getting an answer soon, but good lord is he gonna burst a blood vessel if she leaves him unanswered. 

Turns out, he doesn't have to wait long for a response.

Come the following week, his older sister crash lands into his Spire through one of his sprawling windows, battered and injured as she collapses from exhaustion. 

Black corruption leaks from her wounds, clinging like oil to her beautiful feathers. His minions rush to bring him to her, the Beast only settling once she sees him safe and sound. While he sets to tend to her wounds, drawing up whatever old knowledge he has on healing spells, she recounts to him the horror of what had befallen her.

“They- they tried to crumble me,” she sobs, wincing as his dark healing magic forcefully stitches her cracks back together. “Caught me while I was sleeping. T-they have a winged Cookie too- Saffron's Soul Jam holder. She was relentless, I-I barely shook her off me in time to get away.” 

Eternal Sugar skips over some of the more graphic details, but by the looks of it, he'd probably prefer it that way. Long, jagged talon-like marks decorate her feathered body, leaving a mosaic of lashes to taint her delicate pink physique. Shadow Milk grits his teeth unhappily at the sight.

Now he kind of wishes Burning Spice would have done more to the Ancient than just tearing her wings off her body. 

The Beast of Deceit treats the second youngest Beast’s wounds with as much care as he can muster over the next few days, noting how unnaturally slow the healing is. Their constitution has always allowed them to self-heal, no matter the black corruption that flowed through their bodies. To see it not working as intended was certainly a cause of concern. Were they using special weapons? Enchantments, perhaps? Was that why they were being hunted down so effectively?

Clearly, whatever was happening, it was happening with deadly precision. Three beasts gone, all in a week from one another. Considering they went after Burning Spice and Silent Salt first, the two Beasts with the most war power behind them, he can't help but think the order was purposeful.

Which leaves the question open: Why haven't they gone for him yet?

He's certainly made no effort to hide the location or grandness of his Spire. Sure, many a Cookie would crumble to his endless stream of minions in the dozen first few floors, but surely an Ancient could have gotten here by now, right? 

Why go after Eternal Sugar first, when she was one of the most elusive to catch?

Like most other things recently, he has no time to think about it; all he can do is count his blessings and get back to work. 

—

His new schedule is a tiring mess, eyes so tired of reading ancient texts, he may as well save the Ancients a trip and drop into a sleep-deprived coma then and there.

In a way, it's reminiscent of his younger years, back when he was still a scholar busy pouring so much time into books and spells. Granted, back then, he wasn't searching for a way to save himself from what looked to be his impending demise, but some things just don't stay the same.

When he isn't spending all his time tacked onto a drawing board or working on his weapons of war, he's getting in what little sustenance he can and occasional bouts of sleep. His sister bothers him from time to time, clearly still anxious for his well-being, but he shoos her off easily enough. 

Candy Apple informs him that the Haetae gets night terrors now. Eternal Sugar lets him sleep against her wings, her usually noxious gas swapped out for the sleeper aid she used to use when they were still little, still plagued by nightmares.

He comes across both of them after a long day in his study, dead asleep with a lingering scent of sweetened sugar hanging over the air.

Shadow Milk never thought he'd ever smell it again. 

Nostalgia aside, progress in his work is fast but certainly not fast enough . He knows it's only a matter of time before doomsday rolls around,  and he has to be done by then. Preparations need to be ready, and in order to achieve that, Shadow Milk has to put in twice as much effort into his work. 

Pure Vanilla’s sudden presence, catastrophic as it always is, throws a wrench in those plans.

Everyone and their grandmas practically beg him not to greet the Ancient- for good reason, obviously. His minions and company swarm him on all sides, putting themselves between him and the offending front door, all pleading their own cases as to why he shouldn't greet his guest. 

“It must be a trap!” Candy Apple insists, tugging at the fabric of his arm. “Trying to get you to lower your guard by just sending in that measly dough-for-brains! You can't fall for it!”

“Although none of the others have been spotted yet, there is an extremely high chance more Ancients could be circling the perimeter.” Black Sapphire reported, his usual charm forgotten in favor of visible unease. “Master, please, do not engage with that fool. He'll grow tired and leave by his own accord…eventually.”

“Let me at him!” Cloud Haetae suggests emphatically. “I am the Guardian of the Ivory Pagoda! I chase out unwanted strangers all the time!”

A lone lanky figure stands among them, a patchwork of stitches scheduled to come off in just a few days. His sister's sloth-like claws grasp onto the white cloth of his cuffs, an unnerving look glazed over her eyes.

“Don't ,” Eternal Sugar pleads shakily, her eyes slitted into fearful pinpricks. “Please, Blueberry. Please don't go.” 

Clearly, whatever she had seen in their last confrontation had shaken her enough to believe it'll put his life in danger now. Shadow Milk's lips tighten into a fine line, jaw clenched with a sudden bout of unsureness. The sound of knocking wretches him out of his indecisive spell, twisting his expression into a snarl.

“Quit your yammering, all of you!” he blows off, gazing at the offending front doors. “The fool won't leave until I answer.”

Besides, for all his infuriating faults, Pure Vanilla doesn't fight. The guy's practically allergic to it, and if he really was willing to talk all this jargon about safety and wishing him well back in his letter, it'd be a royal surprise to see him change his mind so quickly. It could have been exciting even- if his life wasn't potentially hanging on the line for it.

Shadow Milk can always kill him, if push comes to shove. 

He raises his staff and dissolves his form, slipping beneath the shadows of the door. The Beast reappears on the other side, before giving the Ancient before him a hard look.

Pure Vanilla looks pristine, still dawning his awakened apparel of spotless white. He'd thought he'd look better now, considering he'd no doubt have time after their quarrel in his Spire, but he looks… much worse for wear than he was expecting. Tired .

There is a notable bruise on the other's face, a burst of dark dough over his left eye ruining his perfectly ethereal face. Shadow Milk has to resist bursting out laughing, before remembering he has free will, and proceeds to do just that.

“Oh! Oh my gosh,” he cackled, a dramatic swell of tears brimming from his eyes. “That's- I didn't think I'd actually get you! You look horrible! Oh, this is so rich- I need to take a picture!” 

He conjures a large bulky calotype camera, the bright flash startling the half-blind cookie as his sensitive eyes squinted. Shadow Milk’s glee only grew, waving the camera away as it dissolved into a cloud of blue smoke.

“What's wrong Nilly? Why the long face?” His head snaps to the side, a wolfish grin plastered across his face. “Are you mad at me? Here to scold me for my delectable tricks? It's not like you'd be able to see out of that thing anyways.”

Pure Vanilla, the sad sack, doesn't seem to share in his amusement, nor does he buy into his probing; instead he opts to stay quiet and study the Beast before him. There's no anger nor upset within his gaze, only a sadness so tender it seemed to burn holes into him.

“You did not flee,” Pure Vanilla says, more as an observation than a question. His tone is tired but accepting, resigned almost. Like he expected this. 

Shadow Milk scoffs, feeling his good mood dwindle at the other's temperament. “Cmon, stop being so dramatic, that's my job.” He floats on his side, reclining back and giving him a listless look. “This is my property anyways, dinghead. My Spire. I'm not leaving at the drop of a hat just because you asked nicely.”

“I wish you'd taken this more seriously,” Pure Vanilla says, not unkindly. He places a hand over his heart. “I did not attempt to misguide you in my letter, if that is what you feared-” 

“You-” Shadow Milk seethes then, itching to wrap his clawed hands around the other's robes. “-could never misguide me . Never. I am the Beast of Deceit, and I will always see through your fumbled, mediocre lies .”

Pure Vanilla hums, wisely not pushing the topic further as he asked, “then why did you stay?”

“ Ugh , do you need everything spelled out for you?” He kicks himself up into the air, arms behind his head as he yawns dismissively. “Your foolish friends can kick up all the fuss they want, it doesn't matter. Nothing takes a king from his castle.”

“Besides death itself, that is.” Pure Vanilla's gaze is unbreaking, a firm line of tension sewed within his posture. Looks like he's getting serious. “Shadow Milk-”

“Shut it,” Shadow Milk stops him, because oh hell no he is not doing this right now. “I haven't the slightest clue as to what you thought you'd be accomplishing by coming here, but newsflash: you aren't gonna get it. You can save your pitiful borefest for whatever fool is willing to listen.”

“You don't understand, you must leave. Now .” Pure Vanilla continued like a broken record, pushing on despite his several dismissals. The Beast feels his patience splinter, gritting his teeth unhappily. “I've stalled for as long as I possibly can, but my friends-the Ancients- they've grown belligerent. You are in grave danger, Shadow Milk-”

“Ugh, didn't you hear what I just said? Are you blind and deaf? Sheesh ! Maybe someone ought to get grandpa here a wheelchair on the way out.” Shadow Milk jokes, a low quality laugh track playing from god knows where. Pure Vanilla only deepens his frown.

He playfully pushes a finger against the tip of the other’s oversized hat, causing the other to break from his serious demeanor as he squawks, quickly fumbling to steady it. “Anyhow, I'm not budging. I have a thing called ‘responsibilities’ , y'know? Don't know if you're familiar with them. Minions, warfare, sisters, battle plans, the works.”

“That's not what I-” Pure Vanilla stops then, mismatched eyes suddenly frowning in confusion. “Wait, sisters?”

Shadow Milk hums, turning his back away from the other as he floats on his side, shrugging in discontent as he inspects his nails. Aw, screw it. He's allowed to rant if he wants to. “Sugarcube's been up in a tizzy, way whinier than usual. Its annoying. Gotta pull my pants up now that I'm the last man in the house.”

One of the last Beats too. It isn't until he says it out loud that the words really hit him, the dire reality sinking in like a stone in water. Shadow Milk and Eternal Sugar, they're the last two. Everyone else…

Vanilla, ignorant to his newfound turmoil, only frowns in contemplation.

“Sugarcube?” The Ancient repeats, voice low in a murmur. His eyes widened with realization then, a sad, horrifyingly pitiful expression dawning on his face- aimed at him . “The Beast of Sloth… she's your sibling? Are all the Beasts related?” 

“Enough.” He turns away, pointedly avoiding the other's discolored eyes. This was a mistake, him and his big mouth-

“Oh, Shadow Milk,” the other barrels on, having the gall to look devastatingly stricken on his behalf. “I'm so sorry-”

“I said ENOUGH!” The Beast yelled, hair standing at its ends like an agitated cat. “Let us make one thing very, very clear right now, Silly Vanilly, and that is that you do not get the right to feel bad about this. Do not say to my face that you're ‘sorry for my loss’ when it was your stupid ragtag team of imbeciles who slaughtered them!”

“It was not my choice!” Pure Vanilla shoots back, an uncharacteristic tang of frustration in his voice. He looks tired , flustered and upset. “I shared my protests, Shadow Milk. Of course I did. I've seen your humanity first hand. I knew your friends- siblings did noy deserve such a fate if it was the same-”

“Really now? Humanity? In us ?” He giggled maniacally, disbelief in his tone. What a fool, his little Soul Jam stealer. What an ignorant, blinded, disgraceful little fool.

“Tell me: did you have pity for Burning Spice after what he did to your birdie friend?” His smile turns wild, giving the Ancient an expectant look. “Did you feel like Mystic Flour was just misunderstood after she tried to snap your friend's posse out of existence?”

“No, I-”

Shadow Milk scoffs. “No wonder Dark Enchantress is still at large, what with you at the helm.” He giggles merrily, jittering from amusement. “Did you see the humanity in her, too? Was your image of your wack job girlfriend’s likeness still blinding you after she slaughtered every poor little cookie in your kingdom?”

That finally gets a reaction from the other. Pure Vanilla’s stupid mouth breather face promptly clamps up, both hands tightening against his staff. He goes rigid and stiff, quiet for a moment, then careful in choosing his next words.

“I,” he says, voice leveled, “am not here to talk about Dark Enchantress.”

“Oh ho, hit a nerve, didn't I?” The Beast celebrates gleefully. “Not a nice reminder, is it? My poor sweet Nilly, too weak to save anyone~ but very well! I'll let it go, just for you. Let's get back to the star of the show.”

He floats forward, tempted to grapple the other and toss him around, but instead settles for staring him down.

“Don't be mistaken, Vanilly, I'm no better than them! I'm all beast, claws and all!” He waves his clawed hands over the other's face, hoping the half blind fool sees it. “The only reason I didn't tear out your throat as soon as I saw you was because you provided me with the smallest, tiniest crumb of entertainment. I threw you away the moment I was done with you!”

The Ancient does not react outwardly. Instead, his tone is softer now, gentle in its caress.

“...I have not forgotten what you are, Shadow Milk.” The Ancient says slowly, gaze still so serene in spite of the other’s earlier threats. “This does not affect my offer.”

Shadow Milk floats closer to the Ancient, face mere inches away from the other as he walks two fingers across his chest.

“I really do wonder then,” he grins widely, arching closer. “-would you have extended the same mercy to them?”

There is silence after his declaration, the maw of a Beast's jaws itching closer to the other's throat. Yet, the healer does not buckle, instead considering his words.

“...I strived to understand the Beasts, but I never once pitied them. All five of you have hurt my friends and many other cookies very deeply. That is the truth.” He reaches up and carefully grabs Shadow Milk's extended hand, mindful of the other’s claws. “But I,  in good conscience, cannot say death is a justified fate no matter the circumstances. For all our faults, we are more than our crimes. White Lily proved this to me-”

At the name, Shadow Milk almost rolls his eyes into his head. “That Half-Cookie caused almost every single problem in your life, nitwit. Leave the lying to me.” 

Pure Vanilla wisely chooses not to comment further, sensing the spike of agitation from the jester. Shadow Milk has no plans on stopping though, not when a new idea starts to poke at his mind.

“If you really wanna help, why don't you tell me where your lovely friends are hiding?” He questioned, batting his eyes with a pout. “Pretty please? It'll just be one quick visit; hash out our differences like proper cookies.” with knives to their jugulars, of course. 

“I-” Pure Vanilla looks away, a guilty look crossing over his eyes. “I cannot disclose that. I'm sorry.”

Shadow Milk's grin waned into a flat line, floating a step or two back.

“Typical,” Shadow Milk hummed, no humor in his tone. “You're the same as them, you know? No better either.” 

Pure Vanilla’s eyes visibly saddened. “Shadow Milk-”

“Big fat idiots, big fat virtue signalers, big fat liars!” He bursts out with anger, throwing his head back in a jittery fashion. “Really, it's high praise coming from me! Bravo, bravo! I'd give you all a standing ovation if I had the time.” 

“I'm sorry Shadow Milk,” the other apologizes for the umpteenth time, his voice disgustingly genuine. “But I can't endanger the lives of my friend's for your sake-” 

“You're such a hypocrite.” The words slip past his lips before he can stop them, an overwhelming wave of emotions flooding out of his mouth. “Look at you, talking all this ‘wanting to help’ baloney when you can't even give me the chance to save myself .”

Pure Vanilla’s expression turns pained, but Shadow Milk cuts him off before he can get his next words out. 

“How's this?” The Beast suggests, “I take your advice, yeah? I run away from Beast Yeast, my sanctuary and home, and go into hiding. What then? You'd rather your friends hunt me down like a pig for slaughter for the rest of my life? Hot on my tail for years to come? Is that it?”

“No! No, no never, I-” 

“Oh? Then how's about I roll over and give up, hm? Show 'em my belly like a good little doggie? Didn't you want that too?” Shadow Milk dramatically gestures, making a show of pensively holding his chin between his fingers. “Oh, but… something tells me they won't like that very much either, will they?”

Pure Vanilla’s jaw is tense, though his voice is considerably clear cut. “I do not expect you to surrender your pride for the mere possibility of safety. However, your absence could afford me more time to figure things out-”

“You're lying!” He laughs in disbelief, letting out a manic string of giggles. “You're- haha! You're actually lying to me! Wow Nilly, and to think I busted my behind to try to get you to just lie once back when you were under my care. The victory goes to moi! Better late than never I guess-”

“Enough!”

While the break in Pure Vanilla’s endless vat of patience would usually incite joy in Shadow Milk, this time it seemed to only sour his mood. His point had been made, clear for all to see, and yet his victory lacked satisfaction. Dull and flavorless, a battle he had no desire to win.

What a waste of time.

Shadow Milk's wicked grin dropped, dull and uninterested. “Ugh. Y'know, I'm bored. You're boring me now. Your lies are stupid and so are you.” Shadow Milk turns around, heading back up the steps he came. “Cya.”

Much to his surprise, Pure Vanilla catches his wrist before he can fully step away, a desperate thing. “Wait-!”

Before the Beast can blink, the world around him blurs with movement. 

One second Pure Vanilla is standing at the Spire’s edge, the next he's lying flat on the ground, a growling Haetae towering over him with a tooth-filled snarl.

Eternal Sugar Cookie stands rigidly by his side, Shadow Milk’s outstretched palm the only thing holding her in place. If the Haetae attacks, he's fairly confident he can yank the child off before it gets ugly. His sister, on the other hand? Not so much.

If anyone's going to tear out Pure Vanilla's throat, it's gonna be him. 

“At ease, kid,” he yells out, keeping his voice clear and blunt. He doubts Pure Vanilla's gonna up and get on the offense, what with the way he was content to lie flat like a pancake, he was still an Ancient. Best not to tempt fate. “Go back inside.” 

The oversized fur ball growls, tail lashing unhappily at the command. He stays where he stands, pinning the silent Ancient to the ground, discontent growing.

“No way,” The giant lion growls, a large clawed paw digging into Pure Vanilla’s robes. “I am the Ivory Pagoda’s Guardian, have been for hundreds of years! Trespassers aren't allowed to harm anyone within these grounds, not so long as I stand!"

“This isn’t the Ivory Pagoda kid,” The Beast tries to reason, hoping to end this before anything happens. “That title means nothing anymore. Now scram.”

“It does too!” The child presses down, petulant denial plaguing their voice. They snarl down at the Ancient in their hold, staring at the Cookie as if he were a vile creature. “I won’t forgive him! Not after what he's done- what they did to Master! It's because of him that they're gone! It's because of him that she's- she’s…” 

The words seem to die on the lion's mouth, the silence following after heavier than steel. In the moment of disconnection, the Haetae poofs like a cloud, revealing the shivering form of a child underneath. Despite the snarl still plastered on their face, big blobs of tears precariously hang from their lashes. 

“M-My… my Master is dead,” they sniffle, a dog-like whine escaping their throat, unconsciously grasping at Ancient’s robes below him. “She's… she's…”

Shadow Milk sighs, closing his eyes and looking away. It’s tough, no doubt. Unlike Candy Apple and Black Sapphire, Cloud Haetae had been close to Mystic Flour prior to her corruption; they stayed devoted to her cause long after. Her absence was no doubt a foreign grief to the child, one that carved into their dough like a hot iron brand.

At the end of the day, however, he himself is no Mystic Flour. He doesn’t have the time to dry even his own tears, let alone someone else’s. He'll honor his big sister by at least not letting her brat crumble on his watch.

“Go to bed, Haetae,” he orders, his voice lacking the usual bite it sported. “Let the adults handle this.”

The fur ball whimpers, glancing frightfully back up at Pure Vanilla, no doubt looking much larger now that it wasn't in its animal form. Without wasting another second, the child jumps to its feet before skittering past Shadow Milk and back up the Spire’s steps. He doesn't bother turning to watch them go.

“Go with him.”

The figure beside him shifts. Eternal Sugar gives him a placid smile, one that lacks its usual serene air. Despite being a patchwork mess of stitches, she’s resolute to remain stubborn. Her claws tighten around the cloth of his sleeve to the point of shaking, a clear and resounding answer. 

“I’m quite comfortable where I am.”

“Unclog those stupid ears of yours and listen. The boy needs you,” he insists, doing his best to get the message across without words. “Go.” 

After some more prodding, Eternal Sugar finally relents, disappearing in a flurry of puffed pink feathers. That is, of course, not before giving Pure Vanilla a rather wild, dangerous look. He wonders if the Ancient sees the resemblance, now that they’re side by side. 

Now with the unwanted company gone, both Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla are once more left to their lonesome. 

“So, Nilly,” he wagers, giving the other an expectant look. “Was that really not your doing?”

Pure Vanilla remains quiet, expression heavy with discontent. He clutches his staff close to his chest, visibly shaken.

“I…hadn’t known children were involved in this.”

He barks out a laugh, one he doesn’t bother trying to hide. “What? Like that suddenly changes things? Guess you can excuse all those nasty plagues Mystic spread around now that you know she had the heart of a mother.” Not that it was beating now anyways.

Pure Vanilla doesn’t respond for a long moment, clearly caught up in his own thoughts. When he finally comes back to Earthbread, the pensive look has lifted, instead replaced with one of determination. 

“Shadow Milk.” The Ancient speaks, tone steely in its promise. “You may not believe me now, but I promise you: I will save you. I swear it.”

The Beast raises his brows incredulously, his disbelief marred by his own amusement. He feels something like hysteria rabbit against his chest, the eyes lining his hair twisting at the sight of a familiar goose chase.

“Ohh, don't I feel so lucky?” He bats his eyelashes, swaying in the air like a flustered lady. “Little old me, chosen by The Pure Vanilla Cookie. My, I'm so flattered. Will you save me just like how you ‘saved’ your citizens from Dark Enchantress Cookie? How you ‘saved’ old Half-Lily Cookie from becoming an enemy against the Witches?”

Pure Vanilla doesn't respond, doesn't rise to the provocation. Because he's so much better than that, isn't he? Too good for Shadow Milk's games now that he's won one time?! He floats closer, a disturbing smile spreading across his face.

“Perhaps I ought to kill you, here and now,” he muses aloud, a razor-sharp grin splitting his face as he dragged his clawed fingers along the fabric of the other’s chest. It was addicting, feeling the tantalizing warmth of his jam pumping underneath. “Give your foolish friends a mere fraction of the pain they've inflicted on me. It'd save me a lot of trouble, no doubt.”

Pure Vanilla, admirably, does not flinch at the contact, even as Shadow Milk prowls a few mere inches away from his face. He's seemed determined not to react to any of his comments the entirety of their interaction, which only serves to fuel him further. “What do you think, Pure Vanilla? Why shouldn't I kill you right now? Plead your case to me, and I may just let you go. I am nothing but a reasonable cookie, after all.” 

The Ancient hums thoughtfully, as if he were legitimately thinking it over, the sound reverberating against Shadow Milk's claws. “Well,” he tilted his head. “My friends would certainly be upset, if I were to pass. My kingdom would mourn the loss of their longest ruling king, and there'd be a bit of chaos in finding a new king to put in my place.”

Shadow Milk lets out a bark of laughter, eyes wide at the mere mention of chaos. “Ha! All I'm hearing are pros here Vanilly. Are you trying to convince me to slash you here and now?”

Before he could tease him any further, Shadow Milk freezes like a statue when he feels a hand placed on his cheek, eyes widening at the unexpected gentle touch. Pure Vanilla presses on, gaze soft as he seems to look right through him.

“In their anger, my friends will likely seek justice for my death.” His brows draw together, a saddened look hanging over his eyes. “I cannot help but worry as to what will happen should they turn their wrath towards you.”

His face slackened with disbelief, his body stuck in shock for an odd second, before a furious snarl melted across his face. Pure Vanilla effortlessly dodges the slash aimed for his throat, landing gracefully just a few feet away, staff clutched between his hands.

“You infuriating little-! Curse you!” The Beast fumed, genuine anger lacing his barred teeth. “Just you watch! That bottomless empathy of yours is what will do you in! One day you'll trust the wrong cookie, and they'll stab you right in your stupid, insignificant back!”

“Perhaps,” Pure Vanilla entertained the sentiment halfheartedly, his gentle demeanor undisturbed, even after Shadow Milk's attempt on his life. “But even if it comes to pass, I won't stop believing in the good in others. That doesn't exclude you.”

What a useless sentiment. He can't even be bothered to respond to that. It's like talking to an ugly, endlessly infuriating brick wall- Pure Vanilla is even more stubborn than Shadow Milk, an impossible feat he somehow accomplished.

“Get out of here,” He barks, turning his back on the other. “Don't ever come back.”

“Shadow Milk, I-”

Pure Vanilla Cookie’s voice was cut off by the slam of the Spire’s towering doors, the echo a rumble of thunder against the quiet air. He hopes he never has to hear it again.

—

The Ancient's visit is all but forgotten by the next day, Shadow Milk himself too busy to even have the time to think it over. He has to empty out his Spire with the expectation of what's to come. If he wants things to work in his favor, he needs as much space as he can get, and that calls for a little bit of spring cleaning.

Shadow Milk frees his roster of minions, figuring he can always make more if he has the chance later on. It all results in a big clamor of movement all around, animal cries, and the scent of magic filling the air. Destroying most would probably be just as effective, but there's a deep satisfaction that settles within him at the thought of what chaos the influx of such monsters to Beast Yeast's wild would bring about.

His agents of chaos run off in every which way, eager to dip into the shadows of uncharted land. Rabbits, mirrors, and pawns alike are unchained from his will and servitude, advised to run off into the wilderness of Beast Yeast.

Some leave without a second glance, but most meander, clearly unused to the freedom that came with their broken collars. A dual-colored rabbit even clings to his pant leg, peering up at him with expectant eyes.

“Ugh, what else do you want?!” He waves a hand around, frustration ebbing in his tone. “Shoo! Leave! Be free! Go… run around a field or something!”

Stillness. He sighs impatiently. 

“...If I let you enter my other-realm, will you leave me alone?” 

A myriad of thumps and animal cries answer his question. Ugh, fine. Portals open, and most scramble in without being told twice. The additions feel like overpacking a camping bag, the seams of his world pulling at the unnatural stretch. By the end of the ordeal, he feels the dimension’s space accommodate itself for its new residents, its endless darkness just a smidge less endless.

Okay, easy part done… 

now for the hard part.

“BWAHH!! I DON’T WANNA GO, I DON’T WANNA!!” Candy Apple Cookie clung to his pant leg, fat blobs of tears staining the fabric from how tightly she was sobbing into the material. “Master Shadow Milk Cookie, please don't make us go! We're your minions, your servants! We can’t leave you! Please please please !”

Shadow Milk scowled harshly, attempting to shake the young cookie off as if she were an animal. “Damn brat- this is ancient silk! Don’t you dare wrinkle it!” 

It takes Black Sapphire’s help to peel the younger cookie off him, Candy Apple dissolving into sobs as she buries herself against her brother's own pant leg. Black Sapphire-while initially giving the other a rather sour look-seemed to crumble under the other’s sadness, patting the young lady’s head with gentle comfort.

“Here's your next order: listen to everything Eternal Sugar says and does.” He conjures up bottomless suitcases, handing them off to each minion respectively. “She'll need help blending in Crispia, so make sure your illusions are top notch. I expect nothing less from the two of you.”

Candy Apple tearfully takes the offered suitcase, while Black Sapphire grabs his own. He fixes him a tight, pained look, yet still manages to give him a deep bow. 

“I am honor-bound to your will, Master,” Black Sapphire pledged, keeping his voice as leveled as it usually is. One would be hard pressed, however, to ignore the pang of tragedy hanging over his gaze. “Please, stay safe.” 

The two stepped away, the sounds of Candy Apple’s mournful sniffling following them. A ball of white fluff steps up afterwards, shyly tugging at the silk of his unitard. He glances down, raising a brow to the child below him.

“Thank you for letting me stay here, Uncle Shadow Milk,” Cloud Haetae Cookie stepped up and bowed politely, even as they were fighting past tears. At least Mystic Flour taught them manners. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. Please… take this. Master would want you to have it.”

Extended in his clawed grip was a long stretch of tattered fabric, the white silk clearly carefully taken care of despite the tattered edges. Wheat Flour's hanfu. 

Even under the coating of ash and fire, her familiar powdery scent still remained. 

Shadow Milk trains to keep his face neutral, swallowing thickly past the emotion stuck in his throat. With a deft hand, he summons a pair of fabric scissors, ignoring the gasp from the younger as he snips off just the sleeve. He fashions it into a kids-sized hanfu, his expertise with fabric making the job child's play. 

“Keep it, kid,” he insists, dropping the fabric into the Haetae’s arms, ignoring the way the smaller scrambled to get a proper hold of it. “I’m sure you’ll get more use out of it than I will.”

The child stares at him in shock, eyes large with stunned awe, before they crinkle with a newfound wave of tears. Shadow Milk grunts as the kid rushes to hug his legs, huffing as he disregards the happy tail rapidly wagging behind the Haetae. 

“You’re much better with kids than you give yourself credit for.” Eternal Sugar observes, at least having waited for the child to back off before speaking.

“Please. Looking after snot-nosed brats was always your specialty.” Or Wheat Flours. Or Saffron's. Generally just anyone other than Shadow Milk. Probably has something to do with being the youngest.

The Beast gives him a curious look. “Oh? How come you had Candy Apple and Black Sapphire then?” 

His face twists like he’d just sucked on a lemon. “They’re my minions, and as incompetent as they can be, they're miles better than whatever drooling parasites could have landed at my door.” Not by a lot though.

An amused laugh, then, in a lower voice, “Will you be alive the next time I see you?” 

Shadow Milk took in a long, deep breath, arms crossed resolutely over his chest. “Course,” he flashed her a grin, practically oozing confidence. “Like I’ll ever croak, Sugarcube. What other cookie out there has two whole lives to their name? Don’t worry so much! By the end of all this, I’ll be right as rain, just you wait.” 

Eternal Sugar managed a lazy smile before her gaze turned pleading, murmuring softly: “Are you lying to me right now?”

Shadow Milk can’t bear to answer, turning away dismissively. “You all ought to get going soon. Daylight's wasting.”

His sister goes quiet at that, allowing the air to grow quiet for a long pause. Before he can react, two arms come up from behind him, two spindly, clawed limbs wrapping against his chest in a gentle hug. 

“I’ll find my way back to you,” she promises against his back, voice heavy with unshed tears. She dips her face against his hair, even as he hears her lips wobble. “Mystic, Spice, Salt, all of us. We’ll always find each other again, and maybe then we can live out our eternal happiness there.”

Shadow Milk sighs, subconsciously untensing against the other's cage of feathered wings. It’s a nostalgic smell, the scent of powdery sugar, and he has to wonder just when they started seeing each other so little that it became so. 

He clutches at her long claws, gripping them tightly. I’m gonna miss you. That, at the very least, he won’t lie about.

however, all good things come to their end, and soon enough, Eternal Sugar makes her departure with Haetae and his minions at her side. He dismisses them rather brashly, his attitude less than stellar, but he knows if he doesn’t, neither party will ever actually leave. 

Seeing them disappear past the horizon, though, is admittedly a hard pill to swallow.

—

Ragnarok comes slowly when you’re busy counting the days down.

His masterpieces are done, ready for use any day now. After a long stretch of nights where it’s felt like he’s had too little time to work, now that he’s actually done, it feels like he has too much of it to spare. So much so that it's starting to dig into his nerves, making him pace like some mad man. 

The Spire has long been empty of minions, only the King left at its mast. It had, admittedly, felt empty without its residents; the echoes of Candy Apple’s and Cloud Haetae's games, the crackle of Black Sapphire's buzzing radios. Now, it was all quiet. Lifeless and hollow, like an empty venue, waiting for its soon-to-be dazzling performance.

He does not dwell on his solitude, nor the old poisonous sting it provides. He knows he won't be alone for long. Pure Vanilla’s conversation with him all but proved it was just a matter of time. 

The Beast of Deceit uses his time wisely, pouring into the final touches of his creations, licking the wounds their creation had left him with. His study is a mess of books, papers, and endless lists of spells, but he doesn’t plan on cleaning it up. Not when he’s half certain the Spire won’t survive this fight; a shame, considering it’s technically an artifact of history. 

Shadow Milk himself could count as that too, a jewel from a time long since past, but very little Cookies would have any qualms with destroying him either. Oh well. 

When the Ancients arrive, it's on a full moon- when his dark moon magic would be at its weakest. It’s probably strategic, but knowing how things have been going as of late, it might just be bad luck.

They break down the entrance without so much as a knock (rude), eager to enter the abode. In the belly of his Spire, he feels them crawl around like ants, little prickles along his skin. They scurried along his bottom floors, prowling, hungry, undoubtedly searching for the master of the palace’s walls.

Well, who is he to refuse such a willing audience?

Shadow Milk dissolves into shadow, slinking room to room as he makes his way towards them. Once he gets close enough, he counts three whole Ancients- less than he was expecting. Pure Vanilla is a no-show, but that may just be because Shadow Milk had forbidden him from ever coming back. He’s half angry, half impressed that the blockhead actually listened. Goody-two-shoes.

The closer he comes, the brighter the shine of their Soul Jams, so much so that it threatens to snuff him out like a gust of wind against a candle flame. Full Soul Jams. Their other halves wretched from the Beasts' corpses. Shadow Milk’s darkness grows thicker with malice, itching to get his hands dirty.

Showtime.

He waits until they’re all walking down a long corridor, all stuck together, to make his appearance. The chandeliers overhead snuff out of light all at once, culling whatever hushed conversation had been taking place. Hollyberry, Dark Cacao, and Golden Cheese all tense, weapons held at the ready.

“Quite the audience we have here tonight folks, hm? Not as many as I expected, but I'll take what I can get.” He giggled, faceless voice echoing across the Spire’s towering walls. “Did you come all the way out here for little old me? Gosh, I'm flattered! I didn't know I was so popular.” 

“We'll give you one chance, Beast!” Sugarcube’s counterpart steps up, hand on her pink chest. “Come out with your hands up, and we won’t need to fight!”

Dark Cacao adds gruffly, “Surrender now, and we'll take mercy on your wretched soul.”

The Beast hums, the walls shivering at the sound. “Mercy, huh? Lemme think it over…” He makes a show of thinking it over, hand on his chin, before grinning. “Alrighttimesup!” 

With just the flick of his magic, an explosion of blue clouds happens in the middle of the room. When the smoke clears, four limp wooden marionettes are revealed at the center, all a variety of sizes and shapes. The Ancients tense, bewildered by the still marionettes but clearly ready for a fight, brace themselves and stand their ground.

“If you think for one little second that I’d let any of you go after what you’ve done,” He grins like a maniac, eyes wild. “Then you’re even bigger fools than I thought!”

The puppets rattle audibly, like something was jumping around their chests, and with a simple cast of his spell, the illusions fully set themselves. The horrid, towering Beasts come to life, dough melting and setting in against the puppet's base. Red fiery dough sets in place against one, while pink wings sprout along the back of another. Soon enough, four Beasts stood at the ready, the resemblance to the originals almost uncanny- save for his signature blue marking painted over their eyes.

“Behold!” Shadow Milk triumphs, strings of glowing blue attaching to each of his fingers. “My Magnum Opus! Tremble before their glory- it'll be the last thing you'll ever see!” 

With the declaration comes the official start of the battle, both parties jumping straight into the fray. It’s a clash of swords and metal, sparks searing from how viciously they exchange blows. His puppets work better than he could have hoped for, retaining the agility and strength of their predecessors with each attack they engage in.

The familiar sounds of combat heighten his senses, strangely evoking a wave of nostalgia within him. He feels Burning Spice’s fiery swings, the metal clamor of Silent Salt’s armor, the ghostly sweeps with which Mystic Flour’s hanfu moved with. If Shadow Milk closed his eyes, he could imagine they were all together again, plundering the battlefield with the merciless vigor they always had.

But Shadow Milk can't afford to daydream, not even for a second. If he has any chance of winning this fight, he mustn't slack off.

Hollyberry fights off a charge from Eternal Sugar, her talons scraping against the exterior of her shield. Dark Cacao rushes in from behind her, managing to slash the puppet in two chunks. The puppet lands in a lifeless heap of strings and bashed wood, useless in its current state.

…much to their muted horror, both Ancients are made to watch as the marionette begins to draw back into itself, wood stitching itself closed back and strings reattaching into perfectly working order. Just a few seconds later, Eternal Sugar stands once more, looking as untouched as she had before the attack.

“You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?” Shadow Milk gleefully soaks in their shock, watching as they’re made to dodge another slash from Silent Salt. “No matter how viciously you maim them, they’ll always jump right back into the fray! Their perseverance is so touching, I may just shed a tear!”

“...I wonder though, just how will you defeat an enemy that can't die?” He taps his chin speculatively, before cackling maniacally. “Trick question: You don’t!”

It's his perfect revenge, sweet and delectable in the most theatrical of manners. In a way, it's almost his sibling’s revenge as well. Imagine that: Being killed by the very Cookies you thought you bested. Who really got the last laugh?

He controls Mystic Flour and Eternal Sugar’s puppets with two fingers, while sparing three for Burning Spice’s and Silent Salt’s in consideration of their weapons. It’s a herculean task, both moving the puppets and keeping up with the Ancients all at once, all at the same time. It'd be impossible for any normal Cookie to pull off, especially when facing off against such seasoned warriors.

Luckily for him, Shadow Milk is no ordinary cookie; rather a Beast of unprecedented caliber. Plus, having like a bajillion eyes flowing from his hair helped in keeping up. 

And yet, every time he feels like he’s one strike away from a fatal blow, another Ancient comes in and either redirects it or blocks it altogether. Scrapes and surface-level cuts can't cut it, not when he knows what kind of injury it'd take to bring an Ancient down. Even if his puppets come back from being torn apart, he can't get anywhere if he can't land any hits.

Two out of three of these Ancients wielded the full power of their Soul Jams, gemstones that could level cities at their full power. He has to exhaust them, force them to keep combating against his puppets until their dough couldn't keep up- but he can't do that if they keep fighting back against whatever edge he gets.

They work too well together, Shadow Milk realizes. He has to do something about it.

With just one simple tug, the Spire bends around him to his will. Several rooms begin to implode and expand on themselves, twisting the battlefield into an impossible endless castle. Multiple shifts of gravity occur all at the same time, causing the Ancients to call out in surprise as their feet leave the ground.

“Brace yourselves!” Dark Cacao warns, before they all fall against different platforms. The old man is forced to lumber to his feet not a second later, barely blocking a deadly blow from Burning Spice’s parashu. 

The battles continue, grizzly and vicious, although the odds are certainly now stacked in his favor. His puppets crawl along the changing platforms like spiders in their elements, while purposefully overwhelming the Ancients that are trying to fend them off. 

Golden Cheese, their flyer, is the only one not restricted to a platform, yet the shifts in gravity still seem to affect her every once in a while. She’s as fast as an arrow and as powerful as his sister had cautioned, and by the way he sees her talons continuously tear Eternal Sugar’s puppet apart, it's hard not to see why. As it proves, knocking her out of the sky is like catching a mosquito with chopsticks.

“They’re repairing themselves!” Golden Cheese cries, barely holding Eternal Sugar’s claws away from her face, her wings healing for what had to be the fifth time by now. “No matter how hard we strike, they just keep coming back!”

“Forget the illusions!” Dark Cacao lobs Burning Spice’s head off, the splintered wood rattling as it stitches itself back together. “Find Shadow Milk, he’s the one in control! We crumble him, and all this ends!” 

Shadow Milk snarls, teeth baring at the Ancient as he slips from shadow to shadow. While the backwards arena did help give his faux-Beasts an edge in combat, it also left him with very few shadowy hiding spots, which meant that if they decided to try to gun directly for him, it’d be a mess and a half for sure. They'll have to get through his Beasts before they ever lay a hand on him.

“What a wonderful evening this has been, folks! I do hope the entertainment has been to your liking.” Shadow Milk pouts then, petulant irritation edging along his tone. “But, I'm afraid we're getting a little off track here! Let me encourage some focusing from our dear guests~” 

He casts a new myriad of illusions, apparitions of old friends joining the fray of the battlefield. A forgotten son, lost to the clutches of a darker force much too powerful to be saved from. A cluster of cookies, all belonging to a dazzling kingdom now left in ruins. A group of knightly berry cookies, all turning against the Queen they had ever so cherished.

The best part? The audible illusions are top-notch stuff- courtesy of his expertise, of course. Each time an illusion was struck down, the agonized screams were sure to follow. 

“Treasure?” Golden Cheese Cookie asks in a helpless voice, fighting off the illusion of what looked to be a smaller, younger version of herself. The temporary distraction almost makes her miss the throw of Burning's Spice's weapon aimed right for her.

“Don't fall for it! It's a trick!” Hollyberry yelled, her shield throwing Pitaya Dragon Cookie off her platform.

“Enough of this!” The old Cacao king snaps, his disturbed expression switching into one of open fury. “Dragons, flush out the Beast! End it, now!”

At the cost of his sword's power, two wyrms suddenly burst from his sword’s gem, scales of white and black shining against the castle’s lights. They screech in unison, traversing over the rough terrain with manageable versatility. The White Dragon’s brightens made him shrink back, as if it's hide was reflecting Pure daylight. 

The Black Dragon, however, does something unexpected: It dips into the darkness presented, the one he's in. Shadow Milk curses, and as he feels it rapidly approach his location, he’s forced to become corporeal and make a run for it.

“THERE!” 

All hell breaks loose as soon as he steps out; everyone's attention trained solely on him. He beats back a few wayward attacks that get too close, hopping from platform to platform as Dark Moon magic sings weakly in his palm. Right. Full moon. Crap crap crap.

There’s a White Dragon on his tail, its fiery breath hot against his shoulders, before it lets out a furious screech as Eternal Sugar’s puppet zips up and attempts to peck out its eye. At least it's in character.

The dragons disappear in a flurry of light, but in their place come the Ancients, working to flank him from all sides. Their attacks are redirected thanks to his puppets, but no matter his lack of injury, clearly his mere presence seems to inspire some confidence within the Jam stealers. He ducks beneath the safety of his Beasts, for once thankful for his lackluster height making it easy to avoid injury.

“End of the line Beast!” Golden Cheese calls, her royal voice cutting through the sulfuric air. “Lay down your weapons, and I’ll do you the favor of reuniting you with your fellow Beasts!”

“Are you kidding me?!” He bellowed, squirreling himself behind Mystic Flour’s veil. “You could barely reunite with your own damn wings! You can’t reunite jack!”

Another spear is thrown his way. He dodges easily enough. 

In fact, dodging is all he does for the next minute or so. Mystic Flour’s hand blocks a direct strike from Dark Cacao, while Burning Spice stops a wayward spear from impaling his spine. Using his puppets as meat shields was always a last resort, but considering they could self heal, it at least bought him some time to think.

God, how does he get out of this? He wasn’t meant to face down the full brute force of the Ancients, what with his body as frail as it was now. His puppets were works of art, practically indestructible weapons of war, but each one had come at the cost of his own witch-blessed dough shavings. One strike from any of the Ancients could be enough to bring him down to his Shadow Form immediately, and then… no more backups.

Even if he wanted to flee, all his magic reserves had gone into keeping the puppets’ connections solidified. He wouldn’t be able to form a portal if he wanted to, nor transform into anything worthwhile. Come on, think think think-

Ironically, it’s his own unluckiness that seals his fate.

A hail of Golden Cheese’s spears shoot down towards him, and while most are expertly dodged by him, one manages to strike one of the invisible strings controlling Burning Spice’s puppet. The feedback of the cut connection fries his finger, his brittle dough along his arm cracking at the severing. Too busy in a whirlwind of pain, he fails to notice Burning Spice’s illusion fall, sprawling across the tiled floor and creating an opening the size of a meteor crater.

Dark Cacao charges, and before he even realizes what’s going on, a blade's edge is tearing into him.

The slash is incredibly deep, spanning across the left of his hip all the way to the right of his chest. A flood of black corruption spews out from the blow, followed by the explosion of pain so agonizing it makes him double over and fall limp against the floor. 

He heaves against the floor like a fish, a torrent of corruption flooding out of his mouth and nose. Holy crap. The brute cut through his airways. 

Shadow Milk has no time to run, no time to even process anything that's happened before a set of footsteps draws nearer. He flicks a slitted eye up, spotting the weary king holding his side with one hand, pointing his blade at him with the other.

“This ends now, Beast of Deceit,” Dark Cacao bellows above him, his breathing ragged with exertion yet strong as steel. “I pray that whatever world comes after your demise is a far brighter one.”

Shadow Milk trembles, yet manages to give the blockhead one last vicious snarl. “Screw you,” he curses, a rivulet of black corruption trickling down his chin. If Burning Spice taught him anything, it’s at least to go down swinging.

Dark Cacao, for his part, looks unimpressed by the insult. Instead, he wordlessly raises his sword high above his head and brings it down. 

Shadow Milk feels something connect with his neck, then-

CRACK!

—

.

.

.

Reality comes back in pieces.

First is sound, muddled and garbled as it was. It barely reaches his ears, the echoes of something knocking against his head. Everything was impossible to make out past the ringing in his ears.

Next is pain. It seems to hit him all at once, his entire body feeling like it was being scorched. His breathing is ragged, chest crushing him with the effort. He tries to peel open his mouth, possibly to scream, only to be displeased by the feel of dried corruption glued to his lips.

After gathering his bearings for just a moment, sound manages to come in clearer. There's definitely shouting overhead, angry back and forths shared, but he can't catch any of it over the sound of his bones snapping together. He feels his jam pulled back into his veins, reconnecting in a painfully slow process. The Beast groans with discomfort. 

“This battle… over. Step aside…”

“-isn't how it…you must not-”

“-our mercy will…killed! Pure…”

“-Shadow Milk?”

A strong pull comes to him then, the echoing siren song beckoning him out towards the shores of his endless sea. Shadow Milk manages to wrench his eyes open, only to spot the vague shapes of one oh so very familiar cookie.  

“Nilly,” he croaks, eyes swimming at the familiar sight.

“Shadow Milk,” the other smiles, though he can spot the undercurrent of genuine, panicked worry hidden beneath his expression. Jeez, was he that roughed up? He must be, because in no universe should the gentle carding of the other's hands through his hair bring about a sigh of content from his worn lips. Disgusting.

“You're going to be alright,” Pure Vanilla swore, his conjecture uncomfortably that of a promise. “You'll be just fine, okay?”

Is he? Is he really? Because good god does that sound hard to believe. His Shadow Form is supposed to give him time to self-heal, but that usually meant to take place in his other-realm, away from danger. He can’t even access that much with his power so drained.

“Your last words to me… are going to be a lie?” He cooed, ignoring the way his chest cramped afterwards. Lightheadedly, he leans into the warm palms of the other’s hold, humming with sweet content. “My sweet little Nilly… such a flatterer. I'm touched, honestly.” 

“It is no lie.” Pure Vanilla refutes, although there isn’t much fight in it, like correcting him was merely a secondary task. “We don't have a lot of time. I can't explain what we're about to do, Shadow Milk, but I promise it will save you. Please believe me.”

Ugh, savior complex. Shadow Milk gags, colors dancing along his vision. His disgust turns serious as he frowns, the other's words finally catching up to him.

“We?”  

At that moment, another blob of color steps into his peripheral vision, nearing enough for him to make out. He sneers, discontent at having someone else so close to him and invading his personal space.

“Ugh…” He slurs awkwardly, single eye thinning as he heaves. “Who's the broad?” 

Pure Vanilla speaks, “This is White Lily Cookie. You've met before, remember? Back in the Faerie Kingdom?”

Oh. Half-Cookie. Man, his head must be really banged up for him not to immediately recognize her. She looks as awkward and pathetic as she usually does, but hey, at least she isn’t the one bleeding out all over the floor here, was she?

“Dark Enchantress's fragment,” he hums slowly, managing a lopsided grin. “That has a much better ring to it than ‘Guardian of the Seal’ doesn't it? Bleugh.” Just saying it left a sour taste in his mouth. 

White Lily did not bother reacting to his comment, instead getting to work flipping through pages. “Opinions are subjective.” The smell of moonstone extract hits his nose, bioluminescent liquid sloshing in the bottle she pulls out. “We have to work fast. Think you can hold them off, Hollyberry?”

Shadow Milk squinted towards where the other was looking, now realizing why it had been so quiet: they were fully encased in a spectral shield, held together by the back of a pink shield. Golden Cheese and Dark Cacao are on the other side of it, visibly enraged. He sticks out his tongue towards them. 

“Of course I can! After all,” She calls over her shoulder, her grin audible in her voice. “I came here to protect my friends, not to slay a Beast. I trust you both, so do what you must!” 

Pure Vanilla tucks his knees beneath his head, carding a gentle hand through Shadow Milk's splayed hair. The Beast gives a warning growl, but couldn't afford the energy to do much else but that. He’ll die a horrible death before he admits the scent of vanilla extract is comforting (And well, judging by the state of his body… maybe he ought to get to talking.)

The two Ancients above him talk some more, but Shadow Milk is too out of it to really follow along. White Lily is setting up a few things beside him, getting things ready, but the Beast can’t even be bothered to open his eyes and see what is happening. 

He was much too focused on the soft touch of Pure Vanilla carding his hands through his hair, healing magic gently stitching his body back together. He sighed in content, a wheeze of a sound, grimacing as his lungs rattled at the action. 

“Hush,” Pure Vanilla smoothed his forehead, likely noticing his discomfort. He sounds exhausted, drained even, but that doesn't stop him from shushing him. “Your trachea was torn. I’m still healing the rest of it.”

“Ugh,” Shadow Milk rolled his eyes, tongue thick in his own mouth. “So… dramatic. It’s not like he lobbed my head off…”

Both go unnervingly quiet at that. Huh. Wait, had he actually done that? Man, and they called him beastly. It’d be kind of hardcore, if it was anyone else’s head getting chopped off.

He probably did that to Mystic too. Suddenly, the thought is a lot less amusing.

In fact, that single thought is sobering enough to remind him of where he was, making him stop relaxing against the Ancient's lap like a thoughtless cat. Instead, he attempts to account for his wounds, trying his best to stay present in the moment. It's thanks to his effort that he actually notices White Lily dip her quill in moonstone extract, before raising it to his forehead in a peculiar motion, the smell of the potent elixir making him wrinkle his nose. Has she been writing on him this whole time? 

Shadow Milk furrows his brows, curiosity brewing within him as he tries to concentrate on the patterns the other was sketching against his dough. His frown deepens for a split moment before his eyes snap open as familiarity crashes into him.

She's writing runes. The Guardian of the Seal is writing sealing runes on him.

He's up in a matter of seconds, wrestling against the Ancient's hands as if they were made of fire. “No, no no NO-!”

White Lily curses, pen slipping from her grip. “Hold him down!” 

“I'm trying!” Pure Vanilla fumbles, grappling the Beast by the waist before he can get on his feet. They both fall backwards, Pure Vanilla’s arms caging him in protectively. “Shadow Milk, please, you must remain calm-!”

He doesn’t listen- he can’t listen, not with the way his heartbeat rackets against his ears. “No, no! You can't do this to me! Pure Vanilla-” he lets out a string of strangled curses, undiluted fear striking his heart. “Take my Soul Jam, or just let them kill me. You win, you win! Just- don't- don't-!”

“Shadow Milk, I don't understand.” Pure Vanilla attempts to calm him, smoothing a hand over his chest as he worriedly inspects him. “Please, breathe for me. What's wrong? Is something the matter? Are your injuries-?”

Shadow Milk gives him no time to react. With one powerful lunge, he manages to throw himself away from both Ancients' hold, landing on his face and in a heap of his own limbs. He’s too weak. He can’t run.

Without time to ruminate, the Beast raises his head and bashes it against the Spire’s tiled floor, the gruesome sound of cracking dough ringing through the air. His vision frays around the edges, black corruption dripping from the fresh cracks along his face, but that doesn’t stop him from gritting his teeth and doing it again with twice as much force. 

White Lily yells something out, her voice falling under the crescendo of sounds. Before he gets the chance to finish it, hands latch onto him, their previous gentle caress now as steely as iron in its grip, pulling him back into golden arms. Shadow Milk trashes violently, yelling and writhing like an animal caught in a bear trap, wrestling against the pair of arms locking him back into place. 

Someone tries to talk to him, says something against his ears, but it’s impossible to hear past his own guttural screams.

“YOU CAN'T SEAL ME!” He howls like an animal, black jam oozing out of the splintered crack in his face. “I WON'T ALLOW IT! I WON'T LET YOU!”

“Shadow Milk.” Pure Vanilla’s voice, he recognizes. His panicked tone cuts through the ringing in his ears, as if desperately hoping to reach him. “Shadow Milk, no- no we're not sealing you. I swear it-”

“LIAR!” He hisses, the burst of hysteria making his head swim. “LIAR LIAR, YOU'RE LYING-!”

Pure Vanilla tries to say something else to him, but Shadow Milk is done listening. He writhes once more, claws latching onto the Ancient's arm and tearing through white silk and skin, desperately attempting to shake off his hold. They're previously calming effect is nowhere to be found, instead feeling like another cage trying to hold him in.

Yet, no matter how many scratches he managed to land on Pure Vanilla's arms, his grip did not waver, if not only growing tighter against his defiance. Shadow Milk hisses, a mess of fury and panic burning inside him.

“This is revenge, isn't it? For- for everything I’ve done?” He twists, ignoring the way the cracks in his body splinter down his dough at the attempt. “Telling me you care so much, feeding me half truths- you never cared! It was all a ploy, all to trick ME once more- ack! ”

Light magic surrounds his mind like a heavy blanket, like water was poured into his ears, intruding on every nerve and muscle it touches. His thought process is all but thrown out the window, mind forced against his will into a gooey calm by the whims of another, choked by the smell of vanilla extract. 

Shadow Milk’s protests die on his lips, gaping like a fish, his frigid darkness melting under the heated rays of the sun. He can only hear his own ragged breaths, panting as if he’d run a marathon. Slowly, a hand peels away from his forehead, leaving it to awkwardly ragdoll to the side.

“I’m sorry,” Pure Vanilla murmurs, his grip still crushing him even after his protests have ceased. “You were reopening your injuries.”

Corruption leaks out of his wounds, clumped blobs of black jam oozing from the fresh cracks he had left himself with. He grits his teeth as hard as he can, fruitlessly trying to shake off the panicked mania clinging to his mind. When Pure Vanilla speaks again, it's with a choked, guilty tone.

“You have every right to distrust me, Shadow Milk,” The Ancient hides his face against his shoulder, as if shielding himself from his own shame. “I deceived you in the past, played with your heart and your trust for my own gain. Even if it was under dire circumstances, it does not justify my actions. For that, I’m truly sorry.”

Shadow Milk lets out a sharp, ugly laugh, mortified by the burning he feels building in his eyes. He powerlessly leans his head back, staring at the roof miles above them before screwing his vision shut.

“Please, please don't seal me-” he begs-actually begs -the other, trembling like a leaf against his hold. This isn’t the mercy you think it is. “You don’t understand, I- I can't- not again-”

Even the mere memory of the Silver Tree sends shivers down his spine, its cold and desolate prison for both his mind and body. Last time, he had kept a relative hold on his sanity by imagining all the wonderful ways he’d rip Elder Faerie apart limb from limb, along with what a conquered Earthbread would look like under his name. The echoes of his name spoken in fear, the chaos his bountiful lies would bring.

Now? Now there’s no future to look forward to, nor any siblings at the finish line to enjoy it with. The next time he wakes up again, displaced in another time, another world not his own, he'll be forced to relearn everything once more.

This time, he’ll be all alone. 

Shadow Milk whimpers, uncaring of the audience to his pathetic display, endless pride forgotten in the face of pure and utter terror. For all his might and authority, he is helpless at the prospect of getting sealed again. One that will be his reality soon enough.

“You aren’t being sealed, Shadow Milk,” Pure Vanilla repeats patiently. His voice is strained with emotion on his behalf- the sympathetic freak. “I would never do that to you. Never.” 

Liar. Liar liar liar.

He goes limp against his will, his Shadow Form still weakly attempting to stitch itself together, the progress sluggish and painful. He thinks back on Sugar’s injuries, how they took days to even heal. Was this still Pure Vanilla’s doing? Is he still playing tricks on me?

In the midst of his conflict, Shadow Milk sees White Lily near once more out of the corner of his eye- a pained, pitiful look dancing across her face. Wordlessly, she brings her pen back to his forehead, causing him to flinch as he feels moonstone magic stain against his dough. 

He lurches his head back in some sort of attempt to run away from White Lily, only to find himself deeper within Pure Vanilla's embrace. The Ancient repositions himself, pressing his chest flush against the Beast’s back. Shadow Milk barely resists the urge to gag, vertigo making his vision swim precariously.

“If I had known things would turn out this way, I wouldn't have kept my distance for so long. I was foolish for letting you go after my Awakening- not when you were so badly hurt.” He sniffles then. Was he seriously crying? Over this? “If I hadn’t let you walk away, perhaps I could have given you good reason to trust me. Perhaps things wouldn’t have become so dire.” 

I would have never trusted you. Never. Shadow Milk knows he is losing his touch when he can't tell if that's a lie or not- his mind far too shattered to tell right now. 

He grits his teeth and trembles as he feels the cold tip of a pen scratch against his forehead, the liquid far too cold for his enjoyment. White Lily’s hatred is merciful, by comparison- at least she isn’t trying to convince him of anything he doesn’t already know. The slash of her sword is done with a paint stroke, elegant and practiced. Shadow Milk would compliment her for her penmanship, if it wasn’t being used to write his tombstone. 

“I was terrified of the unknown, and as a result, my fear has cost you immensely.” A humorless laugh, so different from the small ones he had come to recognize while cataloguing memories that were not his own. “You were right, back then: I am a hypocrite. All the power of a Soul Jam, and yet I’ve still failed to save so many of my loved ones. I really am a fool, aren’t I?”

A pity party thrown over his own corpse. What a selfish fool. Turning himself into the scapegoat until the very end, so eager to have all the blame put on him. It’s pathetic behavior, and Shadow Milk would no doubt call it out if his life weren’t flashing before his eyes.

Shadow Milk closes his eyes and swallows. He hopes his minions are safe, wherever they are. He prays that whatever fate awaits Eternal Sugar, it isn’t this one.

“But it’s okay. I get to set things right now.” A brush against his cheek, the gesture so full of warmth and love that it makes him sick. “So just this once, Shadow Milk, please-”

Light starts to stream out of his wounds, the resonance of the moonstone humming to life- a telltale sign of a spell’s activation. Everything starts to brighten far too much, dissolving every shape around him into indiscernible blobs of white.

“-let me save you.”

He’s blinded by light, then promptly swallowed by darkness.

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