The Other Cookie Of Deceit

by defosnotizzie

Summary:

Pure Vanilla Cookie was lost and possibly never to be found. That was the truth he’d adapted to hate. It felt as if such could never change.

Now, problems chased him like packs of wolves chased sheep. Except this sheep did not run. He was corrupted with no way out, facing complex thoughts on his other half, being searched for by a group of desperate Ancients, and it felt as if the Spire was created to make him insane.

(basically a what if pure vanilla cookie stayed in the spire as truthless recluse. my first fic so pls be nice. i listened to taylor swift lots while writing so the chapter titles are mostly lyrics)

Notes:

this intro is mainly to introduce the concept of the fic

fun fact: i wrote the first draft for this months ago at midnight on a school trip.

the title is inspired by happiness by taylor swift

anyway idk what to say this is my very first piece

Chapter 1: Intro: You Haven’t Met The New Me..Yet.

He knew this page was not supposed to unfold.

 

It was not as if he could exactly pinpoint what was supposed to happen, but certainly, certainly , not this. Surely, his truth should have paraded in to be his saviour. However, in this moment, it felt as if the Light Of Truth was also imprisoned in a spire of its own, like him.

 

Two figures were positioned at the tip of the tower, posture straight and firm, staring into the carefully distorted sky, intertwined with both of their powers. One was his own, as still as a lifeless puppet, focusing both at the mural of deceit and doubt above him as well as the wreck of emotions in his mind. The other was Shadow Milk, grinning like such was the greatest triumph of his failed life. A violent wind wailed, not as a cry, but as a warning. A warning that Earthbread was about to suffer immensely. The atmosphere had strange undertones, about as deceitful as the Cookies present there. It felt like some hazy dream, as if one could wake up crying for air and be comforted by the typical in that moment.

 

No, this was real .

 

Not a lie, or a rumour.

 

The Truth   was Pure Vanilla Cookie had been corrupted, possibly beyond magical repair.

 

Perhaps, the Truth was quite grim after all.

Chapter 2: Chapter 1: Until..The Circus Life Made Me Mean.

Summary:

basically truthless wandering the spire and messing about with shadow milk and self-reflecting.

Notes:

tysm so much for the support on the intro and sorry for the delay!

chapter two is currently in progress :3

this chapter took ages to write so I hope u enjoy

if you know where the title is from ur goated

According to Shadow Milk, it was approaching a late time –although it was challenging to tell, considering clocks were about as useful as a crumbling arm in the Spire. Now, it was time to return to the room that had been prepared. Honestly, it was quite a draining journey. The interior of the place was furnished with malicious tricks and paradoxes, therefore it must have took a while. He did not quite know how long, or if time even dared to pass in this threatening place. Finally, he arrived. At first, it did look quite cosy, until, he really focused. Perched at the vanity, Truthless Recluse recoiled in surprise. For in the mirror, there was not his own reflection, but that of Shadow Milk’s. Slowly, squinting at the sight before him, he moved his arm upwards, and so did the silhouette trapped in glass. He rolled his eyes. If this had been set into place, he sensed that there was an abundance of other horrors awaiting him.

 

Cautiously, and in fear of the idea that mischief could be ready to introduce itself once again, Truthless Recluse stepped towards the bed. Fortunately, there were, and this was rather astonishing, no tricks. The quilt was patchwork, perfectly and carefully sewn checkers and the usual eye imagery; azure and seemingly blinking at him. On top, like some sort of gift, a blue sheep plush toy had been placed. How…strangely thoughtful. Did Shadow Milk really want him to stay that desperately? Was this corruption out of hate, or love? The train of thought came to an abrupt halt. Shadow Milk doesn’t care about him. Truthless Recluse is simply an actor in his grand performance.

 

He carefully nestled into the grand mattress. It was soft as the clouds that accompany dawn’s awakening; too soft, in fact, it pulled him down, sinking him into a world of odd comfort, like the satisfaction of telling a protective, sweet lie. Such was a comfort he was not used to. Soon, and shockingly, he fell asleep.

 

 

 

The dream that adorned him was so hauntingly like a nightmare, but yet it felt so real, and unfortunately memorable. Usually, before this forsaken mess of a lifestyle, his nighttime tortures were unrealistic, something peculiar. How come, in a dimension of lies, this felt like a prophecy, a Truth?

 

 

In such dreamworld, Truthless Recluse walked into the centre of the Spire, to see Shadow Milk doing his usual beam of malevolence.

“I invited guests.” He confessed proudly, his smile transforming into a smirk. What had he done?

“Just tell me who they are.” Truthless Recluse sighed. Knowing him, it was likely to be a cruel trick.

“Don’t worry, you know them. All four. Very well. You could say your friendship goes back to ancient times!” Shadow Milk let out his usual, vexing laugh. Reality hit him in the face. Before he could intervene, the door slammed open. Four familiar, and confused, faces emerged from such sound.

“Why were we invited here? What do you want from us?” questioned a voice. Golden Cheese Cookie, by the sound of it. Truthless Recluse had his back turned to the Ancients, for his already occupied and anxious mind could not deal with looking them in the eyes. Especially White Lily Cookie.

 

“You see, I thought we’d have a reunion.” explained Shadow Milk Cookie vaguely.

“What do you mean, and where’s Pure Vanilla Cookie?” demanded White Lily Cookie. She always cared for him. She knew how it felt to be corrupted. Perhaps, there could be a possibility that she would understand.

“Who?”

“Stop playing a fool. You know.” Dark Cacao grumbled. Although it didn’t seem it at times, his friends truly did show concern for him. Do they deserve this..?

“Oh, you must mean..I see. Turn around my friend.” Excitement seeped into his voice. He surely did enjoy suffering. Truthless Recluse stayed put. “I said, turn around . ” The voice who addressed him was more aggressive now, clearly displeased with the lack of participation from his co-star. He gave up and spun around, looking straight in their eyes, their shaky pupils and eyecing shot upright with…fear.

 

Each pair were flooded with tears, some more than others, and also had an expression of both roaring sorrow and uncontrollable fury. A tense silence followed his debut on stage.

“P..Pure Vanilla Cookie?” White Lily Cookie trembled, reaching a hand to his disgrace of a presence.

“Close, but, incorrect. This is Truthless Recluse. My loyal and loving companion. Please, say something.” Shadow Milk theatrically pointed his arms to him, as if he was advertising a product. However, no sound escaped out of his mouth. He rested his face, analysing every second of this blur. Then, the other Ancients erupted into heart-wrenching, mocking laughter.

“What happened to you?”

“Loving the circus life?”

“You surely did change.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

This was worse than he had ever planned. Was his tragic spiral into deception simply entertainment to them? Instead of feeling guilt, he felt embarrassment. The ever-brilliant beacon of Truth, Ancient Hero and ruler of the Vanilla Kingdom, easily beguiled into full-pessimism by a pinch of lies. How pathetic. The giggles echoed in his ear, everyone’s, and White Lily’s tears became  engrained within his jam, as he descended into the abyss of a nightmare, as well as the stationary frustration of not being able to interfere.

 

Truthless Recluse let out a scream, freedom from his temporary stillness, before struggling from the silky, sickly soft sheets. He let out swift, terrified gasps, yearning for air. For him, the scariest thing about the vision was, Shadow Milk would be likely to do such. After that, he doubted that slumber would have the care for him to arrive again and began to tend to a blossoming thought. Why did Shadow Milk corrupt him, instead of crumbling him? Was it for the slowest, heartstring-ripping torture, or was there something else? Did they share both the virtue of Knowledge and the curse of solitude? Possibly, he really, really just wanted a friend. A mirror to console in. Someone to understand, the one to understand.That’s what those tricks and games were. They truly could be meant for each other. Suddenly, playing with him didn’t seem too bad. Better than being tortured with humiliatingly realistic dreams.

 

As quiet as the still silence after a tragic loss, he slipped down the twisted staircase. He took his precious yet crushing time, step by step, checking for some deceitful trick on each. In such a place, you could never, ever trust anything. Anyone could turn on you in a matter of seconds.

 

Eventually, Truthless Recluse had made his way to where he assumed the other half was. Fortunately, such presumption was correct. When he entered, Shadow Milk seemed to be waiting, one leg hovering over the checkered floor and the other tapping impatiently.

“What took you so long? I was expecting you sooner. Oh, was it the stairs?” His voice dragged on in a mocking manner, as usual.

“How did you know I was coming?” He thought out loud, just slightly raising his remarks to be more taken back. Shadow Milk let out a swift giggle.

“My question is: how could I not hear you shrieking? Aww, did you have a nightmare?” He rhetorically asked, messily placing a look of pseudo sympathy on his face. The train of his thoughts took a halt. Would it be best to tell the truth…?

 

No.

 

He was a liar now.

 

“No. It is none of your concern.” He spoke so coldly, it shocked himself, and sent him into a short period of reflection, as if Pure Vanilla Cookie looked at Truthless Recluse through a cracked, dust-adorned mirror. “I have come down with a suggestion.”

“I’m all ears, spill the milk my friend.” He commanded.

“We should play one of your games together, again.”

“What?” He genuinely wondered, as if such words from such voice had struck him aback.

“Did you not hear me?” His eyes tensed in annoyance.

“Well, yes. I’m just so honoured. I already have one prepared.” Truthless Recluse let out a silent sigh, but he knew that such bonding time was for the best.

 

After a somewhat short period of walking – floating, in one of the Cookie’s cases – they had arrived in a larger room, spacious and covered in mismatched patterns, like a faded patchwork quilt you would find abandoned and disgraced. Shadow Milk threw up his hands in pride.

“Such a cozy place, amirite? Designed by yours truly!” He announced, as if a whole audience was watching him.

“Just tell me the game.”

“I see that one of us is excited. It’s getting to my head, really, the way you just can’t wait to start! Make it two! We are playing a very simple game, hide and seek tag. Heard of it?” Truthless Recluse paused, and thought back, so far back into that asylum of a mind, that he had reached a time before his thoughts were painted blue and black, and had a memory of such game. The old village, youth giggling, the mention of hiding and chasing and-

 

“No. I have not. Explain the rules.” He lied. You may wonder, reader, why did he do this? The truth is simple: he wanted to not put time to waste, and also not dwell on his doings under different names, no matter the circumstances of that.

“Hm, I’m shocked by that. Well, let me explain. First, there are..” Shadow Milk Cookie began to explain it, with such an interest, and performative flair. Truthless Recluse eventually jumped onto a speeding train of thought. The vision ahead was a blur, so distant he could not reach, and clearing for an internal question.

 

 

One day, would he become just like Shadow Milk Cookie?

 

He hoped against this: to be so overjoyed at the inconveniences of others would take an awful dose of being driven into insanity. However, they did share a soul..could-

 

“Hellooo?” His voice dragged on like a guitar strum. “Earthbread to Nilly.” As Truthless Recluse snapped out, he realised he didn’t pay attention to a single word. “Earthbread to Nilly..oh! There, you look like you are paying attention now.” Truthless Recluse squinted his eyes in annoyance, focusing on Shadow Milk’s pleasure-decorated face.

“Are you serious?” He grumbled.

“Whaat? Ah, I see. You aren’t quite Pure Vanilla Cookie anymore.” He tapped his cane rhythmically, thinking of a new title for torturing the other with.

“Finally, you can’t call me that.”

“Hmm? Recluse? Doesn’t flow quite right.” He thought out loud, even though it was obvious he was not going to get a response. “How about I call you…Truthie?”

“At this point, Nilly sounds better than that.” He complained. “Why do you even need a nickname?”

“To drive you up the walls! Now, though, you’ve told me you prefer Nilly so, we will keep it at that.” Truthless Recluse sighed, and Shadow Milk explained the rules again. One would hide, another would try and locate the other, then chase them and try to tap them. Quite a breeze of a task, it seemed.

 

The two had decided that he would hide first. To be completely honest in a place full of lies, hiding in this place, or any place consumed by such beastly presence was not foreign to him. Shadow Milk flung himself into the nearest corner and closed the two eyes- mismatched blue with slit pupils- on his enthusiastic mask. Truthless Recluse peeped over to confirm all eyes, including the ones on his hair and cape were fully closed. Such was a tedious process. Eventually, he had confirmed this, and began to search for a sanctuary to hide. Soon enough, a place had been located. Quite a spacious room, like a ballroom, almost like the hall he had to talk to citizens in the Vanilla Kingdom and..

 

No.

 

He must move on.

 

Desert his old life. A life full of sorrow and mistakes. To distract himself, Truthless Recluse darted his eyes to the closest sight. It was a clutter of paintings, hung unevenly on the checkered wallpaper. A specific one shone out, like a gem among pebbles. The figure depicted looked rather familiar. Glimmering, almost incandescent blue hair, an overall tint of azure, the mismatched eyecing, like the duel and balance between opposites. They held their pride in a heavenly manor, like a brilliant deity of light sent to save Cookiekind, sort of like him before he descended into this shameful abyss. Suddenly,  heterochromatic eyes slithering to the neck accessory, it clicked.

 

This silhouette was not just a simple, pathetic Cookie. No, surely not. Surely, this resembled Shadow Milk Cookie? Perhaps, him, before he too was cradled by omnipotent corruption, into a fate worse than crumbling. Him, when his eyes shone with brightness and curiosity, a shimmer that would eventually be his fall. Him, when he was recognised by all as the Fount Of Knowledge. There was no perhaps anymore. It was clear.

 

Looking at it felt quite peculiar to Truthless Recluse. The way the intricately painted, eternal figure was posed so elegantly, haunted, teased him in a way. Why must this simple brush stroke be more eternal than such Cookie’s stability? Suddenly, clarity scratched him awake. He should not feel pity for Shadow Milk Cookie. Or himself. Yet, even though he dismissed the speeding train of thought, it still lingered, just slightly disturbing his focus on the game. He searched the other portraits. These few were of similar frame, but shrunken in size. After a half-second of pondering, two points met in his cluttered, loathsome mind. Yes, the other four portraits were of his four other colleagues. Once holy virtues, now animalistic beasts. How torturing it was to know he, himself, had stooped down to their vile, revolting level.

 

It was typical that when he thought too much certain thoughts would get louder. They would blame himself. Promote a hatred to his body, his mind. Even before the fall, this was common. He had never seemed to chase them away ever since he lived his life on a podium. Except now, he was more confined with them, considering the podium currently doubled as a cage, like some kind of dangerous circus animal expected to risk their life for the audience’s pleasure. Familiar tears welled up his eyes as mistakes replayed like a nostalgic, monochrome film. Suddenly, he heard something.

 

A calling. Annoying, teasing. What was it saying?

 

He should listen closer.

 

“Nilly…”

 

Never mind. In preparation, he crammed the thoughts into a temporary safe. His thoughts now were more useful, replaying the sound. It was not too close. Usually, in the village…well, when he used to play this, he would use the footsteps to determine proximity too. Worthless in this case, Shadow Milk Cookie could levitate above it all. That would be a useful thing to have for Truthless Recluse.

 

 

He blinked at the opposite yet twin doors, and let out a relieved breath. Locked securely. That was the truth. Truth didn’t matter here. Could reality possibly be manipulated to…?

 

He was overthinking. Again. If only his thoughts could form a clear path. Everyone else could, right? It was only him who had to be so inconvenient, such a burden, a hindrance upon everyone and-

 

BANG!

 

Then, there was a small creak.

 

Possibly, overthinking would be a useful thing in the Spire.

 

 

Suddenly, a threatening blue dash of eager rushed towards him, a longing felt in the way his dough grasped his.

“Found you!” He exclaimed, with a rough decoration present in his voice. Truthless Recluse did not know exactly how to feel about this. Was this game that riveting? He looked up.

“Apologies…I…you’re supposed to run, fool.” His tone quickly changed once noticed that he was being too empathetic. Truthless Recluse, paused, and wriggled from the beast’s grasp, taking his ample daily willpower and sacrificing it to attempt an escape. In all honesty, it was expected that Shadow Milk would perhaps be delighted, giggling. No, he sounded burnt out too. He let out sighs. Suddenly, a spark of compassion nipped at him.

“Shadow Milk, are you..okay?” He turned around to see Shadow Milk struggling behind him.

“You see, I’m not really much of a sprinter.” The figure panted. The strings of impulsive thinking tugged at him to be truthful.

“Me neither. Why did you choose this game?”

“I just want to…get to know…my…” he paused, thinking of the correct response.

“Nemesis?”

“Ah, yes. Not..anything else.” Suddenly, guilt pulled at his robes. Shadow Milk was going to be..kinder? No…

 

Yes.

 

No..?

 

That did not matter.

“So..we both put ourselves into a game, knowing we’d both be losers in the end?” He thought out loud, not even wondering about blurting such out. Shadow Milk Cookie thought for a second, then responded.

“I suppose, but let me tell you, there is only one loser here. I am always victorious!” His tone quickly shifted from honesty to pride, as usual. When he took some time to really process the last thing that passed his lips, realisation hit him. Perhaps that could be said for more than one game. In the end, they both were done with it all.

 

The two halves of a soul entered a more comfortable room, with enough space to play something that required knowledge, a trait marbled in their jam. Shadow Milk drew playing cards from thin air,  with a splash of blue light like a spillage of oil paint. Turn by turn, they placed each card with precision, focusing on the other’s face, set in stone and neutral. Two liars performing a game of deception. Which was more efficient at their purpose?

 

To debate such would be a fool’s pondering. Truthless Recluse was simply mediocre at best, in most things, or at least he thought. Shadow Milk, for a good period of time, had knowledge safely held in a cradling grasp. Some things had to make sense in even the most deceitful of places, meaning that Shadow Milk was the victor. A puny, pathetic, unreasonable vine of shame temporarily, wrapped round Truthless Recluse’s heart. The feeling of mistakes was one he despised more than his own dough.

 

His mind began to drift off. He began to internally inquire, and really ponder on something. Due to one single thought, it made him drop down lower than ever, into such a void of hatred that he had not felt in a while. Yet, in the void, that vexing thought still called out to him.

 

How disappointing, I’m sure the other Ancients won. Why couldn’t you do the same? Useless.

 

Deep down, he really knew that he should ignore those thoughts. They’re irrational. Although he wailed this into the darkness, there was no overpowering it. Suddenly, the inner melancholia began to show, stray from his mind. Tears of forbidden acid, beastly ink began to massacre his eyes, and dared to escape. He restrained them back, like wild animals. Suddenly, Shadow Milk snapped out of his own trance.

“Doing good over there?” He questioned, softer than usual. They hadn’t spoken in a while.

“Fine.” He grumbled, lying  harder than the Beast of Deceit himself.

“Doesn’t sound like it.” He observed, fluctuating between a tone of care and a tone of mocking. There was a silence, unmeasurable in length.

“..Did the other Ancients win ?” He whispered, scared to disturb the stillness.

“You won too. You really think you’re a loser, but I’d say you won.”

“In what way?” Truthless Recluse let a droplet of anger into his question. Shadow Milk was trying to unsuccessfully comfort him. Spending his new life as a failed hero did not seem glorious, there was no possible way to glamorise such a punishment.

“You’re not lonely. We have each other. As you said before, both of us are just cookies that turned to lies.” He smiled, as if none of the problems in front of him existed. He sounded…softer than usual.

“I assume I do have you.” That was the truth. Now that they were one, their souls were trapped together forevermore. That was the truth, whatever chaos or heaven that truth would bring was another matter.

 

Another long period of quiet followed. Usually, quiet made him feel peaceful, back before this mess of a rebirth. This silence did not. It was too loud.

“I should get back to sleep now, it’s still night, correct?” Truthless Recluse began to get up from the plush chair.

“If that is what you desire.” Shadow Milk carelessly continued his thinking. This shifted the tone of their relationship for Truthless Recluse. As if it was no longer enemies bound by fate, one controlling the other, but equals, both as free as the other: whether that meant both imprisoned, both completely unrestrained, or something of the in-between range.

 

It took less time now to walk to his bedroom. Still quite a while, but a significant improvement. He was already adapting. The previous routine, returned, again with less hesitation. Slowly, accompanied by the cradle of his own isolating thoughts, he fell asleep, somehow undisturbed by nightmares. What had chased them away?

 

Assuming that dawn had arrived, Truthless Recluse awoke from his slumber, waking himself up and rubbing at his sleep-adorned eyes. Although he had already awoken, this truly brought him to life on the morning. Or, what was left of his life. Once he was truly alert, he brushed off his clothes. No, these weren’t his clothes, were they? When he looked into the mirror, confused, it reflected normally.

“Shadow Milk!” he shrieked, his vocal chords frustrated and croaky with rest. After a minute, he came in, and paused. “What have you done to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Stop lying to me.” Truthless Recluse muttered.

“Oh. I see. I must admit, you’re looking a bit…blue . ” The other joked. Truthless Recluse stared into his joyful eyes, unimpressed.

“Very funny.” He responded, still holding the past expression like stone. “Now, tell me what you did.” His tone eased a slight.

“Well, I thought I’d have some more fun after that little game last night. I was just on a roll, you see.”

“Continue..” He mumbled.

“So, I played a little trick on you. Just a simple spell, really. One waver of my cane and done!” He pronounced his words clearly and mockingly.

“Could you get me some water?” Truthless Recluse couldn’t suppress a smirk on his face.

“Can you not get it yourself?” Shadow Milk frowned at the concept of work. Truthless Recluse answered with a usual silence. “..Fine.”

 

 

The water was eventually brought, and he stared at it with horror of his true reflection, a ripple of how he looked. Inverted eyecing, extravagant white ruffles on every limb, and horrified, mismatched blue eyes staring back at him.

“I look like you..” He observed, surprisingly calm. “Change me back now ! ” That calm had been lost in the demand followed after.

“Whaat? Do you not like it? I would say you look a lot more handsome now.” Shadow Milk boasted.

“More ? ” He repeated. Shadow Milk huffed in reply. There was a stillness in sound, as Truthless Recluse paced and Shadow Milk silently giggled at the scene.

“Aww, it’s like looking in a mirror. Looking good.” He teased.

“I said, change me back. There’s supposed to be only one of me and one of you. Understood?” commanded Truthless Recluse, pupils slit with frustration.

“I can do your request. At your service, Nilly.” Was he really stopping? How sweetly shocking. Then, a beam of azure light, like moonshine, clouded the room, leaving the two blinded for a split second. After a moment, their vision cleared, and Truthless Recluse’s expression tensed in disappointment. Surely, Shadow Milk had followed orders, but, not quite correctly. In front of him, stood a familiar figure: brilliant, light blonde hair; twin parallel yellow and blue eyes, like the sun and moon; and a strangely menacing expression. No..

 

This wasn’t just Truthless Recluse. That would be bad.

 

That was Pure Vanilla Cookie. His worst nightmare. Reflection.

 

Shadow Milk admired his current form in the ripples of the water, adjusting the beaming locks like he owned them.

“Look at how the tables have turned now, Nilly. Oh wait, sorry, Shadow Milk?” He chuckled.

“You know, you could make more of an effort to, well, actually be me?” complained Truthless Recluse

“Ah, sorry!” He apologised deceitfully. “Ahem, I’m Pure Vanilla Cookie, I love the foolish, delusional truth and lilies.” Shadow Milk mocked. Truthless Recluse’s eyecing contracted in vexation.

“I do not sound like that.”

“Oh, but you did!” He chorused. Then, he decided to ignore that chaos, just for a moment. He turned his foreign body to the mirror, just to see it reflected fully normally, at that point.

 

Looks like even the Cookie Of Deceit himself could not escape the twisted rules of the Spire.

 

No, not the Cookie Of Deceit, anymore. There were two, including him. He was, well the other   one.

 

“Fine, even I’m getting sick of this form. I’ll change us back.” Shadow Milk interrupted once again. The blue beam returned, taking both of them back to their original forms.

“Phew, that was awful.” Truthless Recluse panted.

“I’m leaving now. See you soon! Do whatever.” Shadow Milk began to leave. Something didn’t add up.

“Really? You’re just leaving me? There’s no other game planned for me?” He inquired, just a pinch too desperately.

“I’m honoured you want to spend more time with me-who wouldn’t-but, I have things to do.” Shadow Milk said, being dismissive for the first time in their dynamic.

“Wait, I didn’t mean..” Then, Shadow Milk exited. Nevermind. He would explore.

 

One would expect that, by the amount of time passed in the prison, perchance, Truthless Recluse would be fully acclimatised to the Spire’s malevolence, yes? Well, the truth was: partially. He knew things not to trust, and places to go, but everything was still like a new toy that he hadn’t quite played with enough yet. Eventually, he stumbled upon a room, cluttered with records and parchment and paintings, the wallpaper slightly ripped, chaotic yet organised, like the room of some hyper-genius. As he searched through, reality awakened his mind. This place must be where Shadow Milk stored things. Without thinking, he dug his hands into a pile, and grabbed out a random cluster of letters, all somewhat connected, he believed.

 

He stuck a weary hand into the pile and grasped at one. It seemed to be addressed to ‘Fount Of Knowledge’. His name before the curse of corruption, he knew.

 

It read as such:

 

‘Dear Fount Of Knowledge,

 

I would like to speak out to you regarding the amount of ‘meetings’ you require between us five.

 

I understand your concern for a meeting dearly. I do believe us Virtues should console between one and another. However, you seem to be scheduling these a lot. I am a very busy Cookie, and cannot attend all of these due to my duties granting wishes.

 

Again, I must stress I can see your desperation to talk with us. You really do have a big heart, but I must remind you we are colleagues, not friends. This means that sometimes you don’t have to be so friendly.

 

Sincerely,

 

Saint Of Volition.

 

PS: The meetings would be possibly more effective if other people had a chance to talk too. Please, I say once more, do not take offence.’

 

This truly had bewildered Truthless Recluse. Was Shadow Milk really so blindly benevolent before his fall? A people-pleaser, a mirror to Pure Vanilla Cookie? It hurt to see that the other Beasts did not reciprocate his point of view on their group. Maybe the halves were more alike. To tell the cruel truth, he had always had a challenging time determining who his friends were. The Ancient Heroes? His subjects? Did he even have any ? From this relic, it was obvious Shadow Milk faced a similar struggle. Half-pleased, half-scarred with this discovery, he continued the search.

 

In this occurrence, he stumbled upon a photo – adorned with dust, he had to sweep it away like he swept away his worst fears. Even before taking a glance, he knew such would be a reminder of the past. His eyes adjusted to the blur of colours until the image was clear. A photorealistic painting of the Beast cookies, except, something was off. No, these cookies were not Beasts. Yet resembling them, the group of five had too much joy in their eyes. This was a relic from lost times, a phantom of life before corruption. There, in the centre, was Shadow Milk. He seemed so…

 

Happy.

 

His eyecing fluttered in stationary, a smile so pure, directed at belonging, not pain. A disposition of such innocence, this Cookie was a beloved figure, admired by all. Was he deceiving? Possibly, as this was identical to how Truthless Recluse– no, Pure Vanilla Cookie, used to present himself, and he was far from stable. The stillness of the image seemed so, wrong, so forbidden for him to be seeing. How dare fate lead them to madness. How dare the saints projected in this memory be no more. Then, a thought invaded his mind. Perchance, this is what people would soon think of him.

 

Once they find out, they will never see you the same, will they?

 

That spirit of an inquiry was foolish. This disgrace would never leave the spire. Broken puppets like him and others are bound to isolation. Truthless Recluse forcibly echoed this in his thoughts until he was no longer in denial. He could stop this chaos from reaching outside the tower. Right..?

 

If only…

 

“Truthless Recluse.” A familiar voice yelled. It was stern, and worrying. What had he done? Was it his intrusion into the Fount Of Knowledge’s remembrance? Had his wildest horrors made their way into reality?

 

A slight shiver in his step, he trudged down the winding path to Shadow Milk’s voice. There he was, his figure menacing as usual. Another fair reprimand, the Cookie assumed.

 

Then, Truthless Recluse was sent into a state of bewilderment.

 

This page was unforeseen, not foreboded once before.

 

Instead of Shadow Milk destroying his other half right there in the dough, he simply smiled and began to speak.

 

“I need you to do me a favour.”