Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Darkness. They say it’s nothing to the brave, refuge for the broken, a shelter to fear for the young, a peace for the elderly, and a nightmare in itself for the torn.

So why did White Lily feel… lost?

Aching and weary in the silent, icy void, the fall down was a long one. Too long. It had been a full ten minutes, and she still hadn’t hit the bottom. Her eyes were closed, as to be expected, since she didn’t want to open them. To bear witness yet another separation—this time not of herself, but of something familiar, would have killed her twice over. Again.

I should be dead, she realized with a shudder. He should have killed me—wait, where… am I?? 

Her eyes shot open, and her stomach dropped to her feet. No. No-no-no-no-no.

Eyes. Thousands, maybe millions of them, all blue and staring at her with curiosity, blinked and loomed larger than she was; their presence dominated the starless emptiness. None belonging to her, but they observed her with intent as she began to thrash messily, her limbs flailing in the thick, cold void. Pressing against her warmer skin like ink to water, suffocating, entirely suffocating .

Panic swelled in her chest. She couldn’t be here, not now, not again, not ever. Not trapped, while she still had breath to breathe, energy to fight, freedom to—

…Freedom. That was her excuse? For everything? For lying, for destroying whole cities, slaughtering innocent lives, tearing cookies apart, then letting others do the same? A true hypocrite, White Lily was. Ensnaring them , and claiming freedom was a right for all .

She let her body go limp again in the stillness. Freedom was her right, wasn’t it? To make her own choices? To choose light over darkness? To choose to seek forgiveness?

And now it led to her downfall, this… corruption ? Would she really stand there, letting the hatred of herself brew into hatred of others? Would she become worse than the other half-cookie that claimed her name to be the truth?

And did she deserve it?

Perhaps.

A few eyes narrowed in sympathy as she traveled down, down, down, sensing her sorrow, acceptance . Though it didn’t matter. Nothing did. Not anymore. And it wouldn’t for a good while, no matter how hard she tried. All that was left to do in this fight was to…

Fall.

A soft murmur escaped her lips as she closed her eyes once more, “I wonder how it all started, this… madness.”

~

The sunset seeped through the stained glass, bleeding iridescence as the light illuminated the hallways, almost endless in the vast exterior of the Vanilla Castle. The air was scented with comforting warmth, and the high elegance embroidered into the atmosphere and design all but went unnoticed by the constant flow of visitors in the afternoons. It was a palace, after all. Fit for a king, and whoever happened to be lucky enough to be his guest or friend. Flowers peeked out of every corner and crevice, since it was the spring, of course. Vanilla orchids, especially, interlaced with every string, curtain, or chandelier, but lilies also bloomed in vases, ever fragrant in their serenity, and hollyberries hung on decor as a bold, charming touch.

 Yet the peace felt like a calm before the storm, as White Lily paced down the waffle-coned corridors, lily staff in hand as her gloved palms shook from the weight of importance, the soul jam that rested on it glowed emerald in the knowledge of duty. The castle doors were shut for the day, as immediate business had to be conducted in privacy, which was why she’d been there. Only summoned with a few sentences from a hastily written letter, she hadn’t the slightest clue what the “urgent emergency” could have been. However, from the rather cold greeting, well… “ I hope this letter reaches you in good condition, as these words need to be read clearly.” What on Earthbread could this be about?

It wasn’t going to be good, to say the least.

A chill was sent down her spine at the implication, and she shuddered her entire body with it, pausing in her steps. Her thoughts went to the worst possible scenario: What if he’s unwell? Or injured? Or dying? Would that even be possible…?

Or worse. What if it was… her fault? Somehow ???

She snapped herself out of it. “Get yourself together,” she mumbled under her breath, and continued onward, determination overtaking the anxiety in her stride. Whatever the threat was, she would stop it. Always, and without hesitation. There would be no need to fear or doubt because White Lily Cookie would have it under control.

…Right?

Of course.

Then, a flicker of hope sparked in her chest, and she chuckled at the thought. Maybe, and just maybe , he was being dramatic . It wasn’t all too far from his nature. White Lily could recall multiple moments where Pure Vanilla had made too big a deal out of something trivial, like a Cream Sheep bumping its head on a fence, or getting a person a gift that was a shade off of a purple that had glimmered in their eyes on a particular night in the fall. Small moments, and such.

Her walk relaxed immensely, and she shook her head. Whatever the problem was, she could handle it. She’d made a promise to do so, many long years ago, and she would keep it. No matter how great or slight the problem was.

~

The throne room wasn’t… as busy. Despite the grandeur of the name, the elegant chair itself had accumulated a light layer of dust, only growing by the day, due to the owner’s humility. It was a spotlight to be seen inside the glowing place, with small tables and chairs scattered in corners, usually filled with counts, politicians and businessmen, and women, all trying to gain the attention or advice of the king, now vacant in the golden rays of sun that pierced through the violet, sheer curtains, embroidered and engulfed with the freshest flowers of the season, and the plush plum colored carpet underneath slightly wrinkled from the footsteps that sink into it daily, freshly swept and cleaned, as the sweet smell of vanilla wafers and burnt sugar flowed in the draft from the opened door. 

The throne was as simple as it was elegant, a pure soft white in its purity; the head of the throne was sculpted from tempered white chocolate and cream-colored gold, shaped to resemble his crown, and shone, polished as if it were a statue of remembrance. But among the glitter and awe, a blueberry bird’s nest rested in a shadowed corner near it, safely tucked in the patches of vanilla orchids that sprouted from the base of the throne.

It deserves peace, amongst all this chaos, she found herself thinking.

After briefly taking in the marvelous scenery that was the throne room, White Lily’s gaze began to look for Pure Vanilla, yet after a thorough search in a shy corner of the room, it dawned on her that among all the pearly whites, he might be a bit… harder to find. Every decoration was designed after his robes, and…

Ah, there he was. Standing next to a half-empty grazing table, the willowy figure was comforting a rather anxious and young spokesperson who’d been left behind in the chaos of the sudden clearing. Their hands shook as he held and securely patted them, ever the calmest and serene compared to the cookie stumbling over their words.

“B-but Your Majesty,” they stammered, “The whole of the Parfaedia institute advises you not to take such a deal! What if… what if you get hurt? Or… worse?” Misty-eyed and quivering, the spokesperson seemed genuinely concerned, a breath of fresh air from all the twisted words of usual politicians—even in the Faerie Kingdom’s walls, you could never be entirely sure who was what .

In a voice that echoed as crystal clear as water in its warmth, Pure Vanilla consoled the person gently, “There’s nothing to worry about. I can fully assure you, I will be as safe and secure as you will be. As long as she is in my care, you and all kingdoms will be just fine .”

The spokesperson stopped their shaking and sighed, only sniffling a little, “Are you positive? Truly?”

He squeezed their hands once more, reassuringly, “I am the Ancient of Truth, you have my word. Positive.” A glad smile lifted the corners of his lips gracefully, lighting his face with a cheerfulness unknown to most, and White Lily could have promised she’d seen the fellow’s heart skip a beat.

A moment passed, and they let out a breath, pulling away their hands, “I… suppose so, Your Highness.”

“Oh, please,” Pure Vanilla insisted, “No need for such formalities here, not now, and not ever. Just… call me Pure Vanilla, as you would a friend.”

The sparkle of utter joy in the spokesperson’s eyes glimmered in a way that would have melted the hearts of even the cruelest specimens as they pulled the king into a tight hug, voice muffled by his cloaks. “Thank you,” they whispered, “Pure Vanilla.”

As the young person continued to hug him, Pure Vanilla’s grin only grew wider, and he didn’t hesitate once to embrace them back, not very kingly, but friendly instead. Albeit he had to lean down a bit to properly do so, the cookie was somewhat short.

And after a while, the other cookie released their hold shyly, gaze drawn towards the floor intently, as Pure Vanilla chuckled a bit at the sudden change, “Very well, then,” he murmured, “It’s best you run along. There are still safety precautions after all, and I need to speak to another friend of mine. Can I trust you not to wander off? This castle is close to enormous, after all.”

They only nodded, and after a few hasty curtsies and an even hastier “no-no, there’s no need!”, the spokesperson was off and away on their other duties.

She felt as if she’d intruded on something more private than she had the right to see, such a tender, special moment between total strangers—if not for the other being Pure Vanilla, she would have never expected something remotely similar! What a shock it was to see the embodiment of kindness being… kind .

Then again, he usually hates the touch of strangers, so there’s definitely a change there.

She found herself wondering what else was new.

Pure Vanilla simply stood there, his expression soft yet sullen with thought, as the cookie walked through the double doors and out of sight. Hands clasped, he contemplated, not exactly… upset, only thoughtful, from what she could tell from the other side of the room.

A beat passed, yet another quiet moment, he let out a sigh of content, whispering with shut eyes and desperation, a sort of prayer, “Please… please let this go well. For me, and… for her , goodness knows we'll need it. We all do…”

Now, White Lily, despite the slight twist of anxiety in her stomach, knew fully she wasn't being referred to. Such selfishness was utterly ridiculous, and not when the “ her ” in question caused a waiver to lower his voice, the restlessness of instability furrowing his brow. But… who else?? Unless my worst fears have come true far quicker than I—

Lily cut the thought off immediately, not jumping to conclusions yet. Not until it was confirmed, fully and absolutely.

Not until I’m positive I can stop it in its tracks.

With a clearing of her throat in the wistful silence of the space, she started to speak, “Pure Vanilla Cookie…”

“ AAUHGH—W-whatwasthat?!! ” Pure Vanilla screeched, practically jumping out of his skin and scaring them both.

“Oh. It’s you, Lily ,” he smiled sheepishly from his hunched, startled position, and once he realized this, he stood straight, more professionally , and fixed his robes, smoothing them down with a hand lighter than the daintiest of a snowflake in winter’s chill. Yet on his face was a gracefully fixed, playful grin aimed in her direction, one that soothed and melted all tension from her body with its pure affection, nearly buckling her knees. The cold was non-existent at that moment.

 "I came as you requested,” she managed, gripping her lily staff in one hand so tightly her knuckles turned white in an attempt to keep her composure, “Your letter seemed more… urgent . Is anything the matter?”

His clouded eyes widened, their heterochromic colors of pale yellow and glittering glaucous, shimmering in the gentle sunlight that blessed his face with its shine, further emboldening his skin’s golden, almost ethereal hue, not of this world or the next in the slightest. “Ah, yes, that letter,” he considered, “Hmm… I must inform you that it was, indeed, as urgent as I made it out to be—but do come over! It is rather challenging to keep a conversation with someone twelve feet away from you, is it not?”

“Goodness! My apologies,” she hurriedly rushed over to the grazing table, awkwardly weaving through some chairs, before eyeing the honeyed cheese sliced and laid neatly on a platter. It was tempting, with its sweet, savory, deliciousness, however White Lily turned and focused on the person before her, “Sorry, uh… do continue?”

That whole, pathetic show earned her a low, stifled giggle, “Mm-hmm, where was I… right. I called you here for a crucial reason,” he began, tone shifting from light as a sugar-swan’s feather to heavy, responsible, “More of a job and favor, if you are willing to do so…”

“Always,” she responded without a doubt or hesitation, “I will always be able to do so.”

“But this is extremely different,” he insisted, calm despite the pressure, “So much, even I am having second thoughts, yet I must do so—you, on the other hand, do not .”

“Then what’s the issue at hand?” she asked, knot twisting tighter in her chest, a familiar feeling when anxiety came to hinder her further from knowledge, reassuring, “I’m sure I can handle it, trust me. ”

Did she even trust herself?

What are you thinking—of course you do.

…of course.

He took a stiff breath, vocals shaking in concern—more uneasy for her sake than himself, “There’s been an incident. With our Beasts .”

“...”

With… the Beasts? The Beasts??? Now, of all times—

Get yourself together. Analyze the whole matter, Lily. It cannot be as bad as you think it is.

Pure Vanilla went on, avoiding her gaze with a slight stammer, the look on her face unreadable and uncannily blank with utter dismay, opposite to its nearly horrified owner, “Well, only one in particular—no, it’s not… him, but Dark Cacao’s other half. Um… Mystic Flour, ” Regaining his composure from stumbling over the words that refused to escape his lips in their sheer weight of memory, eyes lidded in an almost instinctual attempt to focus, “She’s dying. Giving up on her life, she intends to take the entirety of Earthbread with her in the process.”

Oh. 

Oh no.

Something tugged on the strings that seemed to move White Lily’s entire being, and she managed to try to gain more light on the situation, a habit that would never die as long as she ceased to. “Does she have a sickness? I'm sure I could find a cure, though that would take time, and I need to know if I have it or not…?”

Pure Vanilla only shook his head woefully, despite the placid smile that replaced the comforting warmth, golden, ankle-length hair flowing with every small movement of his head, “I’m afraid there is no cure, Lily. She decided to take her own life and sent Dark Cacao a letter regarding the safety of her assistant, Cloud… Haetae , I think their name was. He had to read between the lines. His other half is ‘a bit vague’, he told me.”

“Oh dear,” she sighed, a gloved hand fluttering to her lips from the abnormality of it all, and a twinge of guilt only tightened with the dry chuckle of acceptance that Vanilla had proceeded to cough with a lingering heartache, eyes instantly softening, “I never knew of this—and what of you? I suppose this has something to do with the evacuation today? Are you going to be okay?? ”

He huffed a breath of exhaustion, broad shoulders sinking with him, “With all honesty, I… don’t know. I’m doing a bit better, as you can tell, I’m sure. I haven’t heard from our dear friend as of late, though as far as I know, they’re making a plan to transfer her over to the Vanilla Kingdom, where she’ll be housed in the castle, so I can properly heal her and prevent any further… deterioration .”

That wasn’t going to go well in the slightest, not without assistance. “And regarding the other Beasts??” she asked cautiously, both hands now clasped around her lily staff with narrowed fixation. Every other matter she would deal with had to wait, now .

Something behind those clouded eyes lightened with the glimmer of hope, “ Actually , they agreed to it. Hesitantly, of course, and it took a bit of coaxing from Holly, but they’re sending another Beast to watch over her and make sure she isn’t in harm's way, as an added measure.” Then, he cringed, twisted features still held some form of majesty, “Problem is…”

Lily did the honors of finishing the sentence, “We don’t know who exactly?”

“Mmm. Yep. It could be anyone from Eternal Sugar’s grace, to Burning Spice, and his… issue, and then there’s—”

“ Please don’t,” White Lily pleaded under her breath despite herself, only granting her a hum of disappointment from the other.

The king tilted his head in knowing, softly joking, “ Vendetta much, Lily?”

“His very presence is a reminder of my failure to do the one job I was assigned. The sole reason I am the guardian of the Silver Tree in the first place was because of his doing. I can’t just…” She swiftly shifted away from him, looking towards the grazing table instead, her amaranth eyes darkening under her lashes of white, “I simply can’t forgive as easily and… wonderfully as you do, Vanilla. I can try, and I will , it’s just not in the nearest future that I can imagine,” a cough, just a subtle one, “Do understand.”

And unbeknownst to her at the time, he did. However, the lingering silence stood for just a second longer than it should have.

“Oh,” he stretched a hand to the table, offering with a now regained sense of grace and poise, “Do help yourself. It’s a long way from Beast Yeast; you must be utterly famished .”

It was an acute observation. Lily had been close to starving on the journey from the Faerie Kingdom, hunger pains worsening her paranoia without mercy, so despite the humble, “I really mustn’t,” that barely stirred in her throat, her mouth was full of a decent amount of cheese by the time her eyes met Pure Vanilla’s again. Softer, more composed, the food was grounding against the flow of thoughts that came and went as the conversation continued (after she swallowed her food, of course. Vanilla even waited for her.)

“Thank you,” White Lily sighed after a moment of quiet eating, “I assume I was sent here to assist with the other Beast that will arrive today?”

Vanilla nodded, “Yes, exactly. It will depend on who’s sent, and we will both have to oversee Mystic Flour and her transfer, but I’ll be responsible for ensuring that gets done. You already have a lot on your hands, so you won’t have to do much.” Ah, and there that reality-bending grin was again.

“No-no, that isn’t necessary,” she sheepishly smiled, almost forgetting the risk of all Cookiekind being swiftly deceased with something as little as a snap of a finger if a singular thing were to go wrong, “I’m more than happy to help you, honestly! The Faerie Kingdom isn’t as busy during spring, so Mercurial Knight can take charge of some tasks while I’m away, at the very least for the time being.”

“Perfect,” he said warmly, almost a sigh in its relief and delight, “Just… perfection. Thank you, White Lily.”

“It’s no issue,” she muttered bashfully, then considered a thought aloud, “Though… I do wonder… who would they trust to send on behalf of one of their own? I mean, the only Beast to come to mind would be Holly’s other half, even then—that kindness was suffocating, cloying , and they know that well enough.”

“I don't think it's a matter of kindness,” he lowered his voice cautiously, as if someone were eavesdropping where they shouldn't be, like a nosy child would tell off their conversation to the wrong person, “In fact… yes. They're going to send a spy. Someone with the right amount of sense to care for her , yet with enough skill to catch the right whispers. There's a large risk this could blow over our heads and trap us in the end.”

“Then why do it?” White Lily questioned, understanding but albeit confused, and a tad worried for his sake, “Why place her in your care? If there's that big of a risk, we need to consider it at least a while longer— you could not come back from this.”

“Because that is a risk I am fully willing to take.” Not a crumb of hesitation corrupted his presence as he continued with utmost confidence, “And if that were to ever happen, heaven forbid, then we'll have you, the only cookie with enough strength to stop the process of deceit in its tracks, and enough power to rebuild the remains from the ground up. And I ,” he placed a firm hand on her shoulder, resolved, yet gently and elegantly so, “trust you entirely . With my life, and with hers.”

~

Trust you entirely.

The words stayed in her mind long after their conversation, making home in White Lily's subconscious rather cozily compared to the weight they held. With something as simple as trust, she'd always been cautious with what the phrase meant. No one truly trusted her, and not with a life at that—not anymore. Especially not now. The life of a cookie was fragile, sacred, scarce in the cruelty of morality. Something to be cherished in the ever-so-short amount of time it was given. And with someone like her being trusted , with all of the actions that linger in the past, haunting her purpose like the ghost of guilt itself, well…

It was terrifying. Utterly terrifying. 

And now she'd have to bear with it.

Such thoughts came to be as Lily wandered through halls again, this time with specific instructions she didn't dare disobey. On the third floor, in the second door to the right, is a room. You are to sit there, make yourself comfortable, and await the arrival of the Beasts. Then, you will be summoned by a butler in a white suit, any other color, and you run down to the first floor and take three rights and a left, yourself. It is not safe there.

“All will be fine,” Pure Vanilla had added, “But such precautions are necessary. We can't lose you more than we could ever lose Mystic Flour, and currently, you are our only chance of defense. You must care for yourself, also, but that doesn't have to be said, right?”

What did he mean by “right?” she pondered, picking up her pace as she made a right down a seemingly never-ending hallway of creamy colors that smelled of comfort and safety .

Yet that itself was in jeopardy with this “compromise”, the very suggestion was eyebrow-raisingly bold, and for something was almost sure to be a—

“Don't doubt him,” she mumbled, “He knows what he's doing. They all do.”

And so do you .

Shortly after, she found the door. It was a dusty emerald in color, and quite tall, the silhouette of a white lily carved with careful hands and the sharpest of blades, every detail precise and made with an obvious affection.

But her eyes noticed a chip near the bottom of the design, near the base of the leaves, where the otherwise perfect piece was laced and outlined gracefully with a light, silver paint that shone in the lessening light of sunset, coating the otherwise tense atmosphere with a warm, comforting, golden glow.

The craft was done in haste, she concluded, much like everything else in the castle.

Yes, now that she'd noticed it, everything, from the grand paintings hung on velvet papered walls and a thinning string of twine, to the neat placement of furniture made to fit their spaces perfectly, even the harmony of the room held a sense of messiness and rush. Nothing was finished with patience in mind or beauty in thought.

Though Lily supposed it was reasonable. Many would be quick to leave a castle knowing that in any moment, a Beast with the power to reduce them to nothing in mere seconds would be arriving at any moment, and against its own will. A being with death in their hands and attached at their side would be walking into the palace angry, wrathful, and scared. And such confusion is the dense of most who dare not count the costs of a misplaced hand—she’d seen it herself.

She left the thought alone, reaching for the brass doorknob to turn it, when within a second everything seemed to freeze inside her, dread as frigid as the draft against her ankles, quickening her heartbeat at a sudden realization—

She's here… isn’t she?

“AAAAAAAAGH!!” A shrill scream came from down the stairs, echoing in the hallways in its rage, as the hairs on the back of her neck stood instinctively at the sound that rang in her ears with raw and utter power.

It was time.

~

The sound alone could have cracked Earthbread in two, the pain it emitted.

So it was no surprise that Pure Vanilla, Healer Cookie, to some who were closer than others, shot up and bolted almost instantly down the stairs and towards the noise.

Thud-thud-thud. 

Pulse ramming like an ox against his chest with a fear unseen in its utter terror of possibility as he raced down the steps, the walls he could see were blurred either way, and the ones he couldn’t faded in the background of his mind, focus dead and centered on the need to get down there and do something .

Thud-thud… th-thud . Another set of steps.

But the thousands, maybe millions, of healing methods, medical terms, types of healing, and harming magic, as well as the worst scenarios that flashed violently with memory and instinct in his thoughts, did nothing to comfort the heart-crushing scene that engulfed the ballroom when he barged into the doors, only deepening the shaking in his hands with righteous fury . Disgust swelled in Pure Vanilla’s chest like a fever of madness, begging to let loose on the horrible cookies in front of him—and he might’ve let it. He just might.

Well, the Beast had arrived. And in an attempt to escape the all too firm grip of her now captors, she’d been manhandled and strangled on the ground in a position Vanila could almost feel the discomfort of in his bones, arm brutally twisted, yet still writhing in the solid hold of the other cookie, her once seamlessly ethereal, pale colored hanfu, wrinkled , silk stained near the base of it with something… black as ink, tar-like—he’d deal with it later, for sure. Her starch-white hair was a tangled mess of fighting and knots, soul jam ajar and misplaced from where it should have sat elegantly on her head. And her dough, the worst of the complete mess, was actively disintegrating, small patches of her skin dissolving into nothingness and flour. The chaos of it all ruled the space of the vast room, shouts and screams overtaking the space with disharmony in its purest form, cookies watching in horror as their limbs crumbled to dust before their eyes, cries of rage echoing in between the insanity . And the king—

He watched, stunned with disbelief, taking in the scene playing out in front of him like a performance of malice.

But only for a second.

“ Unhand her. ” 

The steel will to remain calm in his voice resonated in the air, and though with its low and even tone, the swelling wrath, barely contained as nails dug into his palms in a desperate attempt to sooth the jam boiling under his skin and crawling up his spine like a spider, spoke more threats than violence ever could in the span of a moment, and the room went silent.

In respect of the rare occasion, the person with their arm around Mystic Flour’s neck, though hesitantly, released their grip and swiftly backed away as she stumbled to her feet immediately, gracelessly smoothing her robes and clutching somewhere that was stained with the same ink, trying to keep her balance as Pure Vanilla rushed over to her, despite feeling the intense air of melancholy and malevolence thickening the atmosphere like worm ridden honey. He didn’t care in the slightest about it—nothing could ever right the wrongs done to her in mere minutes, possibly more, and the most he could try to do was prevent anything else.

More cookies rushed into the room, and Vanilla was faced by his soon-to-be patient, whose expression was a mix between that of apathy and bitterness, eyes black as the darkest of nights, not bothered to meet his, but instead fixed on a sore spot on her ribs, almost doubling her over in its pain. Its hatred .

He lowered himself into the deepest bow he could muster, sorrow fixed upon his features as if etched in divine stone, “My sincere apologies for what just occurred and happened to you, Mystic Flour Cookie, and under my care as well. Please, I can only beg for your forgiveness…”

Her response, in turn, was a sharp, curt inhalation, much too formal to be a snort of irritation, but not polite or reassuring in the smallest of bits. It bit with teeth of disdain and jaws of cruelty into his very soul.

Thus, Pure Vanilla rose to his full height again, yet kept his gaze centered on the floor, “Please. My name is Pure Vanilla, current king of the Vanilla Kingdom, your caretaker, and healer, and I wish to do well.”

Now that gained her attention, “You say you’re a king,” she began, tone soft and cold as snow in winter’s peak, “Yet you lower yourself to my level, a Beast , who you watched the utter humiliation of mere moments ago.”

Silence, as sweat beaded on his brow, his jaw clenched. Despite her current decrepit state of weariness, Mystic Flour Cookie’s presence was not to be ignored. At any moment, there was the slightest chance that he, and many others, would be returned to nothingness with the snap of a finger.

She spoke again, gentler, though her gaze bore into his very being while he tried to avoid it, “Pure Vanilla Cookie, your words are, and forever will be, meaningless . Every thought , voice , and every cookie will disappear into an endless, white void of nothing . What occurred will fade into mist, and both you and I will also. The true, eternal peace, a day where all, finally , will return to flour. ”

Her words were chilling to the spine, and Vanilla found the feeling of dread pounding at his ribs harder than he could control it, physically pale at the seemingly prophetic statement alone, and maybe, just maybe , this was why his Ancient companions opted for complete avoidance when it came to Mystic Flour Cookie.

A final word from her, “And I, no matter your vain efforts, will not be around to see it. Such is my destiny,” before a certain cookie burst through the doors, a team of maids and nurses rushing in with her, gasping when they saw the mess of clumped flour, whispering men, and fear that was the entirety of the ballroom, and Pure Vanilla—

He sighed with relief, almost melting into the lightness of his shoulders. 

~

White Lily was shocked. Utterly shocked.

But she had work to do.

The mess, spread across the ballroom floors, once a spectacle of glory for eyes to see and marvel, was cut short by their sudden entrance into the space. Immediately, the nurses went to work, some assessing the people huddled shamefully in corners, the severe scolding serving as a grounding force amidst the madness. Others ran straight to who Lily assumed was Mystic Flour; the low mutterings of concern spoke more than blatant screams ever could. And, strangely enough, the Beast didn’t fight it, but simply let herself be led and prodded by the nurses and specific maids who’d taken training in healing abilities.

All eyes scanned her and Pure Vanilla, who respectfully, and rather tiredly declined, instead directing them to her sleeping quarters for further examination. “Down the hall and to the right,” he’d murmured, calmest in the room, though Lily had a fluttering feeling in her gut that wasn’t always the case, “She’ll have my room—no, I’ll be fine, I can sleep just the same as you all. No , I will not share a bed with her, as you all could imagine the discomfort. Yes , I will be there in a few to assist.”

And while this had transpired, all White Lily could do was stare from a distance. Watch. Examine, lily staff in hand and ready to strike without hesitation if anything were to so much as think about causing harm, eyes narrowed and soul jam a faint glow of emerald light, bearing the same weight of responsibility that lifted her chest with confidence, with the knowledge that she could react if anything were to go awry.

The situation was dire, and the need for a “just in case” was reflected in the way everyone’s hands seemed to shake, steps would stumble, and whispers grew anxious with the risk of what could happen in the next second. After all, two guests would be arriving, not just one .

Controlled disorder , she concluded with a nod to herself, yet another habit, and my role is to keep it controlled. 

What a small task, yet so crucial, it tightened the grip on her staff. It raised her shoulders, her thoughts a mile a minute, the way it swam in the shadows of her skull, lacking in any elegance as they thrashed in their pools of darkness, each owning a hole of insecurity that, if she were to fall into, would suffocate her to death.

In short, her confidence was false, she was a liar, and though she was awfully curious, White Lily never had the chance to steal a good look at Mystic Flour. From what she saw, far away from any possible danger, the Beast appeared to be distraught, possibly bleeding , as one nurse mentioned to Vanilla with wide eyes and wrung hands. Though her jam looked like nothing they’d ever seen before, with its ebony viscosity and stain, they could only guess it was… corruption . Vanilla made sure they took the precaution of wearing double gloves and cleansing any wounds before proceeding with the healing, and soon after, Mystic was ushered away without another word, not before giving a knowing look to the other.

And she could have sworn his heart stopped.

After all was handled with the Vanilla Kingdom castle’s newest patient admission, Lily was left to await the arrival of the second Beast, mentally begging on her knees that it was someone like Eternal Sugar, or at the very least, someone sane. Someone she’d be able to sleep at night in the presence of—

Like Silent Salt.

But alas, that was never to be, was it?

She pushed the thought aside in the archives of her mind. Lily took a glimpse at her Ancient companion, who was slowly massaging what could only be frustration out of his temples, his low and managed breathing catching in her ears more than the soft sounds that flowed in the background ever could. And for once, she spoke first.

“I’m guessing it wasn’t so calm in here before,” she said, slightly raising her voice due to the distance, but walked over to meet his now startled gaze, darkened by something worse than fear.

He didn’t meet her eyes in return, but stood upright in a way that acknowledged her either way, regal in his stance, yet his air of royalty had lost its initial comfort. Something had happened here, and it wasn’t pretty nor honorable in the slightest of ways, and knowing Pure Vanilla, she supposed it was likely violent as well, if it made compassion in the form of a person angry , or so much as upset .

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed, shaky and barely composed, before dragging a trembling hand down his face, “I-I just… can’t depend on humanity, can I?”

She didn’t utter a word, only placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaving it to rest there, a subtle I’m listening, she hoped.

And it must have been, because he continued, messily so, “That was entirely wrong , and from the likes of men , no less. It doesn’t matter if she’s a Beast, she still—and we both left clear instructions not to harm her in any manner whatsoever, there are two Ancients here for goodness’ sake!! I completely believe we could have handled any attack in her weakened state,” he turned fully to face her, a sea of emotions, varying in intensity and complexity, flickered across his expression, a dying flame in the darkness, and nonsense , “and respectfully so, don’t you think?”

A firm nod, “Absolutely.”

Pure Vanilla sighed, his eyes fluttering shut, his hands wringing for lack of a staff. “And now, I have to determine what to do with them ,” He mumbled, slightly tilting towards a corner in the far right of the room, where about ten cookies grumbled and muttered under their breath. However, the lack of shame was crystal clear in daylight with the scoff of several people.

Ridiculous, and some still have the gall to say evil doesn’t exist.

“You know,” Lily offered, “Violence, especially against the disabled, is an extreme offense in the Silver Kingdom, no matter the person, and is punished severely . Some of my knights should be coming by in a few, so we could gather them up, take them back to the Silver Kingdom, and deal with them there.”

Pure Vanilla paused, considering the idea, and came to the satisfying conclusion of, “You have free rein. They’re yours!” with a soft smile, weary, yet justified at last.

That was met with a collective groan from the now possible prisoners, brashly arguing their protests at having their fates handed off to such a stern kingdom and its judgments, some even having the guts to outright shout at their king, “That isn’t fair at all!!” one yelled, but was cut short by a stare with the sharpness of a blade.

“I wouldn’t dare say another word if I were you,” he drawled, as if picking his words cautiously, considering the company, “Execution is still common and legal in Beast Yeast.”

Quite as the void in less than a second.

And rather proud of her land and kingdom, White Lily returned the same weary, genuine smile to the other, relaxing the stiffness of her shoulders for just a moment, the best thank you she could give without stumbling over her words, and a comfort seemed to wash over her without being noticed, like a lantern in the blackest night, when the moon herself didn’t show her face, when the clouds blanketed stars to cover entirely, to protect.

Yet instead of a laugh, or a simple stare into her very soul, his gaze softened, something more woeful hiding under the usual, resting smile, before abruptly coughing, hard. So much so that it echoed into the wind and carried the dry, rough sound across the palace walls, and she couldn’t help but chuckle in disbelief as he clutched his chest.

“Sorry, sorry,” Pure Vanilla hacked, before returning to his tall, usual stance, excessively blinking in disorientation, “I really should have that checked, shouldn’t I? Um… right—please, don’t let what occurred change your perspective on the world.”

“...pardon?” She raised a brow, leaning on her lily staff and tilting her head.

“I meant what I said. I know for a fact that you, in all of your wisdom, have seen worse than the likes of all of us. But I also know that you… keep the same hope locked to your heart like a precious gem, no matter what happens or will happen in the future.”

“And yet, you carry what I can only call bitterness for those who have harmed others,” he continued, hand resting on a soul jam fixed on his chest, staring at it as it shimmered with knowledge, with truth, “no matter the person, the deed, or the reason.”

“...” Lily didn’t have the words to respond to such a brutal truth. Sure, she held on to the chance that goodness can still exist in a world brimming with unkindness and malice, but to hear her fatal flaw simply spilled onto the ground, her very soul flayed from the inside out and gutted for impurities, only to inevitably find them was… painful , to put it lightly. Like an iron mallet to the ribs.

“So I only ask to do what we, your friends, have done for you, White Lily. Keep that care, that light , but forgive while doing so. Try to… save , instead of seal ?” A hopeful look lifted the corners of his lips, patient as a season but expectant of an answer, at least a nod, or a sigh, or some sign that Lily understood and accepted the request, as impossible as it seemed.

There, leaning on her staff, White Lily thought. Contemplated. And for a moment, it was sensible, though the longer she examined it, the more risks, problems, and dangers came to mind. To forgive when others can’t would mean to have empathy for the apathetic, love for the wrathful, hold good in your heart for those who seek to remove it, to strip it of its meaning.

Try to save instead of seal…

“I—” 

CRA-ACK!!!! A deafening noise, sounding like thunder, boomed in the middle of the ballroom, and the two whipped around to face it, standing on guard as Pure Vanilla summoned his staff with a flick of his wrist, glowing as the room was engulfed in darkness and shadows. Candlelights were snuffed, lanterns died, and the chandelier on the high ceiling fell with a crash , sending glass everywhere but the center of the floor, all in a singular gust of wind.

Front and center was a massive portal, far taller than any regular cookie, blue as dusk and crackling with power, and splitting the very realm itself into the next, where whatever light-forsaken thing would crawl out of and begin their torment on this kingdom’s inhabitants, surrounded by tendrils of darkness like ink on their skin, to spread a plague, a sickness throughout the land in its tracks. A wicked, so cruel, so unorthodox , it would kill with a smile on its face, and you’d think you slaughtered millions.

And such an evil owned a name just as cruel as he—

“ Bluebird !!” Pure Vanilla exclaimed, relaxing his defensive stance completely and with a grin that lit his eyes, “So you were the second one sent!”

A manic cackle cut the atmosphere with glee, sharp as a scythe, the way it bounced off her skin, her being utterly rejecting the darkness, and though she couldn't see his face, something close to a breath lingered behind her ear a she flinched, heavily , almost paralyzed with the familiarity.

The voice, lilting with uncertainty and deception , knowing of its grandeur and pride, finally spoke, “Well, well, well ~ Look who it is!! If it isn’t the Guardian of the Seal, my former captress. Oh—and Nilly ~!”

“ Merde ,” she cursed under her breath, “ Shit .”

The second Beast had arrived. Shadow Milk Cookie.

Chapter Text

One thing she noticed, after what felt like days of infinite falling in the darkness, when the cloak hugging her shoulders, stained with jam no longer fresh stilled over time, the pull of her limbs upward ceased to hold, and when the subtle breeze that whistled with a false gale quieted in her ears, was that the drop had slowed to a softer… floating. If she were to hit the ground of wherever this faultless hell had caged her, she wouldn’t crumble to dust—a bruise, maybe, but that was to be expected.

Even after all this time, he was still cruel. No matter if said “cruelty” was encased in words as syrupy as nectar from the finest of blossoms, only to trap you, and prepare you for your imminent butchering. Soon to be eaten, or in her case, thrown aside to relive, refeel, the same nightmare that haunted her for years through an all-seeing frosted void of black and sapphire.

Her mind tried desperately to search for a reason, a chance that the truth was a misunderstanding at most, a hope, false and long ago abandoned, if Lily could still count the days correctly.

But all she found was a reality tainted with a deep, blue bitterness in her mouth. She wanted to cough it up, to let it leave her in a heave of nausea that swelled like a sob in her throat, the way it twisted and writhed in her stomach, making her very soul shudder with a sickness utterly vicious to her being. Yet it stuck to her intestines and lungs, filling and staining them all with a thick fog of uncertainty.

The Beast, in his theatrics and trickery, lies and lullabies, an entity to be feared and applauded, was a coward. A cold, sick-headed hypocrite who abhors the fearful, yet chooses to run when a foe dares to show their face in a manner equal to him. He never lost the fight because he decided not to lash out first, but claims he always wins a battle. A false confidence, layered and viscous with vanity and pride, but underneath the placid skin, re-stitched and applied, varnish to creation all to seem flawless—effortless and emotionless—was an insecurity that would be the death of him. That was, if such a thing were to be blessed upon the world.

“Hmm…mmh……”

Maybe White Lily was, too. A hypocrite. A puppet, clueless in her own game of confusion, twisting and bending her strings to her advantage, but never knowing they exist, blaming it on the first thing she’d lay her glossy eyes on, claiming an innocence unprovided by those who created her.

Maybe that’s the reason for this torture, this ‘oxygenated suffocation of self’, as he’d put it.

Lily began to drift into a sort of rest as she continued to float down, down, into the abyss, her thoughts searching for something, anything, to focus on, so she wouldn’t lose her mind any more than she had, watching the eyes that persisted their gazing on her falling figure like stars, littering the dead, rotting sky that begged its creator to cease to exist for a moment longer, to disappear into nothingness once more, as the feeling was purity and bliss to feel… nothing. To be free of the cares unreciprocated by the creatures you’d risk your life for, and your reality afterwards in the company of, unknowing of the dangers that wouldn’t so much as consider touching you here, where one could drop their sanity into a well and never gain it back, only pulling up dried puddles of whatever the endless eyes wept and bled from eternal suffering.

And as her lashes fluttered from the exhaustion of struggle, the cloak wrapped around her shoulders, gently swaying with an imaginary breeze, softly kissed her cheek as a familiar scent flooded her nose, sweet and floral in a way that was comforting amongst the wilderness that was this…

Wait a minute. That was the scent of jam, wasn’t it?

“...my…. my jam,” she murmured, then White Lily was unconscious, for a long while, that is.

~

The sight in front of her could curdle the thinnest of jam in the severity of its horror.

The form that emerged from the enormous portal crackling in the middle of the ballroom was something out of the nightmares of those tucked in plagued deathbeds mere hours before their reckoning, as tendrils of darkness spilled ink-like onto the floor, calligraphy of merciless runes and scenes of mockery forming in the ground itself, both a warning and a taunt for all who dared to so much as tremble in the sight of the Beast. Not a footstep seemed to echo as he paced slowly into view, posture high and regal, as if eons of knowledge eternally forbidden carved the very bones that shaped his broader shoulders, the only feature about the creature that wasn’t close to sylphlike in litheness. Despite the eerie normality from afar, the stain of corruption, obsidian and lightless, coated the spindly, curved claws that crept down the Beast's arms like the blood of a monster, or prey, crooked and constantly moving with a twisted sense of theatrical madness reflected in the… the…

That face. A smile with far too many teeth than should have been able to fit in his mouth, reflecting with colors only White Lily could see and grow faint in the air of, reaching the furthest parts of his jaw, almost stretching the face of whatever god-forsaken creature had been allowed to roam the depths of Earthbread without consequence, its eyes, one of a lapis as deep as the Licorice Sea, adorned with snow-like lashes that softly shadowed his cheekbone, the other a blinding cyan, with coal colored lashes much thicker and sharper than the others and decorated with a scar, both blinking wildly and separate from each other, and all of the chaos and derangement fueling motives that gnawed at the thinning moral cages of this being—

Centered on her. White Lily Cookie.

And for a moment, she wished the earth would swallow her whole and keep her there, safe for eternity.

The Beast, now within eyeshot of every living thing in the ballroom and beyond, lazily flicked his wrist, and the portal shut without a sound, seeming to absorb and take all attempts at a noise with it, leaving the room in silence save the collective race of pulses near and far. The shadows, creeping on the walls and ceiling, slowly ceased as well, climbing down every pillar they consumed, the array of flowers once decorating them now dead, barren of life and pale, as the light eventually returned—but not much, as due to the lack of a chandelier and the dusky sky in the distance, shading the room in enough shadow to send repetitive shivers down White Lily’s spine, each spasm ferocious and giving at her resolve to not run to the nearest forest and hide like a frightened, rabid animal.

A single pace backwards. Her will was wilting by the millisecond, and amid the soft panic fluttering in her chest, a gentle hand brushed her shoulder assuringly as she flinched at the touch and glanced behind her—

To see Pure Vanilla. He didn’t meet her gaze, but comforted her nonetheless with a squeeze of that delicate hand, all the while looking lovingly up with an adoring grin at the cursed creation threatening to devour the souls of everyone around him, confidence only glowing more in the frigid air surrounding them. The king seemed so… sure of his safety, so positive that not a droplet of harm would come upon his kingdom in the wake of this Beast, it was almost comforting in the chaos to see such a warmth of calm amidst crippling fear.

Lily wondered how, and why, someone could carry so much empathy that danger became nothingness in their presence, as he carefully chose his words to the nightmare of dough and darkness, “It’s a pleasure to see you, as always. Though,” Vanilla furrowed his brow ever slightly in confusion as he peeked behind the Beast, “I see you’ve come alone. Weren’t you—”

“Supposed to bring Haetae?” Shadow Milk, surprisingly, deadpanned, not bothered to properly greet the other, let alone look his way, and instead rose higher to float on his back and closer to the two, sneer constant and carved despite a grating tone that could only suggest the Beast couldn't care less for the dire situation, “Yeeeah. A certain friend of mine couldn’t stand to let the little pest be for once, so they’re in her care until I can report that this… sappy excuse of an oversized house is safe enough to hold a child.

“But I’m assuming you knew that already,” his eyes suddenly locked onto Lily’s with ill intent flickering in their irises, like a flame barely kissing the edges of a bottle of vodka, one wrong move, and the scene burns blue… “Since you and our little orchid discussed it unbeknownst to ol’ moi~! And to think, I was the last to know of my dear acquaintance’s well-being. Tragic, innit?” The venom of irritation, purposely failing at being hidden in the mock sympathy coating his throat like sugar syrup, at being left out of such an important detail, laced his lilting words as he began to circle the pair of Ancients, practically swimming in the air with effortless ease. White Lily couldn’t help but subconsciously back into her friend cautiously, causing her to bump into him and accidentally knock the staff out of his hand, which the Beast did notice, and snickered evilly.

“Sorry,” she hastily murmured, and was met by an accepting hum from the other, before speaking in a voice more firm in its power than her quivering heart would dare allow her in any other moment, “Our apologies for your misinformance, Shadow Milk. I do remember a letter being sent to the spire, as well as all domains in Beast Yeast, about the details of her transfer, by our ‘little orchid’. Unless there was interference, there should be no logical reason as to why you’re the last to know.” She raised a brow, the patter in her chest calming as she stifled a sigh, half of relief, and of utter frustration.

“Actually,” Pure Vanilla interrupted, standing in between the two in what he must have thought was an attempt at intimidation, the way the two bore into each other’s souls with hatred. Though Shadow Milk had more eyes, so it was a losing battle for Lily either way. She shifted her focus to Vanilla, his staff now in hand, “I left the letter sending to, um, Hollyberry. I simply wrote them and handed them off. She was our negotiator, and I thought it would be best to let her handle it.” He shrugged with a slight cringe as if apologizing with his eyes, far too embarrassed to say it outright, and hoping for forgiveness.

The grin on the Beast’s face dropped entirely, something close to disbelief narrowing his eyes, “You, and all your knowledge, left the information of my closest ally’s mental and physical state to a drunk, and expected me to know anything!?” he drawled, physically words away from grabbing the Ancient by the neck and strangling him to death, like a cat about to strike.

Her grip on her staff tightened.

“Shadow Milk Cookie,” Pure Vanilla snapped, the rare yet boiling rage deepening his voice once more, hushing the atmosphere and both parties, and White Lily was glad to have arrived when she did. Not a single living being would want to be less than five acres away from a fuming Pure Vanilla. “That is quite enough from you. Your free will here does not mean the ability to disrespect the ones I care for, and in my own castle of all places. Have you lost your senses?? Because, so help me, I will find them for you—”

“You know what?” The Beast only pinched his nose bridge in irritation, his claws rhythmically tapping the side of his thigh, all theatrical prowess lost in an attempt to soothe his anger, though the tendrils of shadow and ink that appeared to be his hair seemed to hiss, “Fine. My sincere apologies to my wonderful other half, but I find myself more so worried about my…” a hesitation, or a finding of words, “dear friend. If I can even call her that.” The last part was muttered through gritted fangs and a side glance, but the rather personal thought still made its way out of his mouth and into the already polluted air Shadow Milk stilled his floating in, and the silence was, well…

Uncomfortable, like sugar burnt just enough to nauseate whoever had the displeasure of smelling it, let alone tasting the unfortunate tragedy of a confection. 

“The other Beast. Where is she?” Shadow Milk snarled through a sneer, lashes fluttering in mock affection as he floated just above the ground, hands and claws clasped behind his back, an imitation of civility for her sake, not his own.

“In her sleeping quarters, she had to borrow mine for the moment,” Pure Vanilla said with a nod, all signs of anger from before likely buried under skin for a need for peace. “It’s not like I need them, and the space is required for the equipment—I’m sure you know your way,” he raised an insinuating brow, though it wasn’t exactly… hostile.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Shadow Milk began to spin and float in lazy circles again, as if pondering the simple act of just going to check on his companion alone, wringing his hands and prodding at Lily’s last nerve in the process. Still, she knew it wouldn’t be best to seal him then and there, the deception didn’t seem to be more than a mockery, “This castle’s changed so much, you know, I couldn’t possibly find my way without an… escort? Perhaps?”

Hell no, “I’ll escort you.”

A pause, and a wolfish grin subtly cracked at the seams. Distrust, maybe?

Good. The feeling was mutual.

“Lily,” Pure Vanilla began softly, hand lightly grazing her own, and she flinched, “Are you sure? I thought—”

“I thought so too,” she pulled him aside with an arm around his shoulder, voice low enough that only he could hear it, but not once taking her gaze off the blue figure picking at his knife-like claws as if they were an old manicure, not paying the slightest amount of attention to the two, “but if we send this Beast off with anyone besides ourselves, that’s a chance to cause panic, to do something harmful.

“You said yourself that they’re sending a spy, right?” Vanilla nodded, “Then I’ll be the guard, at least, until we get things figured out. Prevent the whispers from getting to his ears in the first place or leaving his mouth. Simple, hmm?” Resolve firmed her features; if things were to go right, there would have to be some sort of plan, or some sort of protection, and it was her job to manage both.

He hesitated, but nodded again, “Right. We’re not going to treat him like a prisoner, though. That’s not happening here, especially since he’s the one who brings back a report to the Beasts—we know well enough not to upset a quick liar, Lily.” Vanilla raised his brows, seemingly refusing to end the conversation until she agreed, telling by the hand that remained on her back after the point.

Lily exhaled through her nostrils, “Indeed.” She glanced back at the Beast again, only to see—

Him not there, not a trace left behind where Shadow Milk once stood.

Wait—what?! Her eyes darted across the room, frantic; they could not lose that cookie! Not now, not at any point in time. A spot of corruption seeping into the floor, a pillar starting to crack at its edges, a… the same group of horrible cookies, I’ll deal with them later… far too many shadows to really see… 

Oh. There he was. Leaning against the ballroom door with a dead expression, staff in hand, and its pupil looking rather disoriented due to the intense twirling it endured, as White Lily huffed and hoped it was a nervous tic. Let the Beast be nervous. Let it show fear, if any. Let him be as uncomfortable in her presence as fully possible. Every unpleasant emotion Shadow Milk would have to weather—and she’d make sure of it—would be justice itself floating down from the sky and kissing her on the mouth. Passionately. Every minuscule crumb of displeasure on that tormentor’s face would bring nothing but a smile to her own—and he’d hate her for it. Guardian of the Silver Tree, she’d receive the worst of whatever futile attempt at revenge, at torture, the Beast decided to curse upon the castle.

Oh well. It was inevitable, and something about such brought a strange lightness to Lily’s chest. Whatever fate had to bear with fangs and fortune silver on the strings of light and darkness intertwined, may it be in her favor wholly and entirely. And if not…

She’d twist them herself until punishment bound her wrists and blinded her enemy. That would be her ultimate will, her final choice. White Lily would never let something as cruel as that single, warped mirror of a cookie be the cause of suffering for so many innocent lives, even if it meant allowing the worst side of her crawl its way out of her throat and into slit necks with teeth spewing that which is unorthodox to purity.

No, never. She would never.

Are you so sure about that, Lily? A voice echoed in the furthest shelves of her thoughts. Silence, she told herself, and swallowed the lump that had formed in her esophagus, clenching her jaw and walking towards the steps of the door with her head held high, choosing to ignore the hare’s-foot in between her lungs. 

“Helloo?? What’s the holdup, Guardian?” Shadow Milk called out with an eyeroll, cocky grin returning to the cat-like teeth tinted cerulean in the glow of his soul jam, and the deep scar on his eye crinkled ever so slightly with the rise of his cheeks, almost hiding the daggers of a ghost-like blue that lingered in his features as if they didn’t belong, far too sharp amongst what should have been gentle skin. Everything about this Beast was twisted beyond repair, she decided.

As soon as they locked eyes, both grins faltered for a moment in understanding. Of the raw, unadulterated hatred the two could only wait to unsheath the very second the curtains fell to shield them from sight. And White Lily would strike first this time. Without hesitation.

Then, with a sweep of her hand, she opened one of the ballroom doors, gesturing the way with her staff, but her grip remained firm, prepared to defend against the other’s evil, a small smile fixed to appear polite to those observing, though her shoulders never fell, only tightening with the passing minutes. (Hours. Days. Years.)

“Follow me,” she said, straining in the urge to show her resentment, her fangs, and she hastily marched through the doors and down the hall. All she wanted to do was get this ordeal over with as soon as reality would allow, to go to her room and sleep for another decade or so, just to clear her head from the fuzzing crimson lines marking, scratching over sanity in anger. It made the Ancient bitter to so much as imagine the days ahead, let alone keep her composure about it.

  “Lily,” A voice called, insistent yet softer than fleece. The set of irises, heterochromatic and gentle, familiar, burned into her back with concern so genuine it wanted to well in her eyes. Lily wanted to turn back, to promise Vanilla the one thing she wouldn’t be able to do: save instead of seal.

So why didn’t Lily flinch when the door was shut and shadows warped behind her?

And why didn’t she turn?