Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Waiting. That was all Shadow Milk Cookie could do these days. Either wait for something, anything to happen, or to sleep it off for as long as he possibly could before his body naturally awoke him.

Spending an eternity trapped in a tree had been, as expected, the most boring thing that had ever happened to him. At that point in time, he had already lost count of how many years had passed. When he and his companions had first been jailed, he started counting. The seconds, the minutes, the days, the months, the years. Anything to keep his mind at least a little busy, especially as he had no access to his friends, unable to interact with them.

Yet, as time went on, even that had become boring. Too repetitive, too annoying to keep up with. As he’d come to find out, neither his own stories couldn’t entertain him anymore. There was no one there to tell them to, no one there to toy with. He would often spend most of his days either sleeping or performing random magic tricks to himself.

It was the most miserable existence, and he knew that. A fate worse than death, many might say. How long until he was out, if ever? How long until he completely lost his sanity? Who knew if it already happened?

Pathetic, really, the way he was once so powerful – now stuck to the whims of fate, its thin threads tightly wrapped around him. No doubt the others felt the same way.

To count, to dance, to sing, to sleep, to live. What even were those things anymore, when none of them filled the void in his body anymore? None of them mattered any longer, none of them made sense. What to do with eternity when it is all you know? He questioned himself often, yet even he, the once Fount of Knowledge, could not answer. There weren’t many things he could answer anymore.

Hell, he decided, was right where he stood. Cookies would often envision it as a torturous place of fire, screams, and anguish. Yet, here there was nothing but darkness, silence, and emptiness.

Oftentimes he wondered if it was even worth it. As far as he was aware, the tree guardians had no plan on letting them go. They were supposed to stay in this hell of a place for the rest of their pitiful lives, which would never end, ever. Could one truly handle an eternity of nothing without losing their minds? No. Shadow Milk knew it — eventually, the mind was always lost, always an illusion of what it once was, a lie.

Death sounded so merciful, peaceful, even. The things he would do to achieve it, and yet no matter what he tried, it was never quite enough.

And so, he gave up. Once and for all, and for the rest of time, he laid down on the empty ground, the void hugging him. He didn’t plan on standing up again, didn’t plan on waking any time soon. So long as he could pretend he was anywhere but there, then things wouldn’t be as terrible as they are.

He’d closed his eyes, and after a brief period of waiting, he was gone.

Time was a funny little thing. Sometimes it seemed as though it passed slower, sometimes faster; many cookies had once asked him how come that was, a long time ago. He would always eagerly explain how the brain was a powerful thing, capable of lying to its owner easily, tricking oneself to believe one thing was another. For example; when completing a boring task, time passes much slower. But when enjoying a hobby, it would pass faster, as though you’d never even noticed time passed at all.

When asleep, it got trickier. Sometimes you’d wake up in a panic, thinking more hours had passed when, in fact, only one had gone by. Other times you wouldn't even notice, a quick thirty minute nap turning hours-long in the matter of an instant.

This time, when Shadow Milk awoke once more, he had no clue how much time had passed. All he knew was something changed. A tug at his souljam, calling for him; a tiny voice, so small and curious at the back of his mind. It had been so long since he'd heard the voice of anyone else that he almost jumped out of his own skin. He raised his head, looking around as though a possible way out had suddenly opened, but there was nothing.

No, still the endless, quiet void he had fallen asleep in. It was confusing, disorienting. Shadow Milk wondered if he had truly gone insane for a moment, before he heard the voice again. The words were muffled and so incredibly difficult to understand. It didn’t matter how much he strained to hear it better, he couldn’t. An odd occurrence, yet insistent. The voice wasn’t going away, neither was the gentle warmth surrounding his souljam.

In a moment of frustration, Shadow Milk reached into the depths of his soul, closing his eyes. There were blurs everywhere, of green and blue and pink. He saw what looked to be a tiny hand holding something, tiny feet standing on grass. The voice sounded clearer, yet still so distant. He focused more, reaching deeper, deeper, until—

“Poor thing, are you hurt…?”

Undeniably a child’s voice, very young as well. If Shadow Milk had to guess, the child was younger than double digits; innocence laced in their tone of voice, nothing but kindness as they spoke. It sounded much clearer now, easy to understand, as though it was coming from himself. Yet even still, the world around was just as blurry, colors swimming together in lumps. A mass of pink fluff stood in front of his eyes, a tiny, painful sound coming from it.

Red came from a small white blob of color. He could only assume the thing in front of him was bleeding. Perhaps it fell, or a cakehound bit into it. The details didn’t matter, the child’s voice cooed at it nonetheless.

“Here, let me help you.” A tiny brown hand reached out, the mass of pink cowering in fear, yet not attempting to run. The hand stood in place just above the assumed injury, before a small yellow light came from their palm.

Suddenly, darkness. Shadow Milk squinted in his real body, reaching deeply into his soul yet again — but he was still there. He hadn’t left. In fact, he could still hear the noises of what his mind saw, feel the gentle breeze in his skin, the blades of grass digging into his knees gently. If he focused enough, he could feel as though he was actually outside and not stuck in an eternal prison. Yet, there was nothing to see but the darkness that surrounded him.

Then, just as suddenly as when darkness came, there was light. The child opened their eyes and Shadow Milk could feel a smile on his face, even though it wasn’t his. As the palm lifted from its place of rest, the injury (on what he could only guess was a sheep) had been completely healed.

“There we go, friend.” The child said warmly, as though the sheep actually understood him. It made a soft noise as it got up, bumping its head against the child’s torso. They laughed. “It was no problem, really…! I’m glad I got to help you!”

How sickening, this whole display was. So innocent, sweet, naive. The child’s happiness was contagious, and not just in how joyous it was, but quite literally Shadow Milk felt it in his chest. It was a weird and indescribable feeling, being able to tell his emotions weren’t his, much less the senses he could feel from whatever his brain was simulating.

He had enough. With a pull, he was slammed back into himself, gasping. Shadow Milk blinked, patting around his body, feeling the ground around him. Sure enough, he was right back to where he’d been the past who fucking knows how long, like nothing had even happened. His body was his once more, soul right back where it belonged. He shivered.

Shadow Milk had no idea what was even going on or why his mind had shown him a child healing an injured animal. Why could he feel what they felt, physically and emotionally, and what had caused this? Perhaps he was simply playing tricks on himself without realizing it. But none of his illusions had felt so realistic before, at least, not to him. He was the one who made them, for Witch’s sake, of course he could tell what was real and what wasn’t. But that? That had felt real, way too real for comfort.

A hand touched his souljam, at where the whole thing had started to begin. Looking down, he realized it was his own, grazing the gem that made him who he was. The warmth, the familiarity, the weird closeness he felt when he’d metaphorically reached deep into it — it was odd. It was new, unexpected. And he could still feel it, tugging at him, almost begging for him to come back. What else could there be to see anyway? Surely nothing too entertaining. It was nothing but a child playing healer, albeit a very impressive one for their age.

Oh, but how the curiosity was eating him alive. He wanted to know, wanted to see for himself what had happened, to get out of this nightmare even if only for a few minutes again. Even though the feeling was weird, it had been undeniably soft, like it wanted him to be there. Watching. Like his soul ached for it.

…a peek wouldn’t hurt, would it?

Breathing in, Shadow Milk focused into his mind, his body, his soul. It felt as easy as breathing, natural, even. Once again, he was back right where he’d left.

The blurs of colors hadn’t changed much since then, except this time, the child was walking. To who knows where, really. How could a cookie that tiny even navigate with eyesight as bad at that ? He had no idea if the kid felt exactly what he also felt, but if his theory was correct, then that was in fact just what the pipsqueak saw in their day to day life. What a way to live.

Although Shadow Milk couldn’t move their head, he could move his own eyes and choose where to look towards. He took the opportunity to try and figure out exactly where they were along with what they were doing. They were walking through what looked to be a meadow, if all those flowers were anything to go by. No clouds to be seen in the sky, only the ever so shining sun up ahead. They held a staff on their hand, tapping it ahead of themselves on the ground every time they walked, probably to prevent tripping or falling somewhere.

Seriously, this kid desperately needed glasses.

As Shadow Milk finished his over-analysis, he relaxed a little more, letting it play out like a movie. A very hyperrealistic one, but a movie nonetheless. The breeze gently swept through short locks of hair — he could feel its length from how it touched the child’s shoulder, not heavy at all on their back. The sun shone warmly, a bit too warm, making it a little uncomfortable under those oversize robes. The child didn’t seem to care, but Shadow Milk did, unused to the sudden difference in temperature. Inside the tree, it was just the right temperature, if not a bit cold. Unchanging for years.

Birds sang as the child walked, followed by the sheep right next to him. They were chatting to it, not caring how it couldn’t understand him. For someone so small, they sure couldn’t shut up for even a second, seemingly very eager to just share their entire life story. The sheep only walked, very clearly oblivious to everything being said. Not that the kid cared.

The point being that Shadow Milk was growing increasingly, steadily bored.

Sue him! What was wrong with not wanting to listen to a child’s incessant talking? He heard that plenty of times before, eons ago. They played with the sheep, showed it their magic, talked and talked for hours on end. Sure, the change of pace from nothing to everything at once was very welcomed, but that didn’t mean Shadow Milk enjoyed listening to so much goddamn yapping . Not when he couldn’t even participate in the conversation.

Alas, there was very little he could do about it. And oh, did he try. He tried talking to the child, creating illusions around them, anything ! But, apparently, Shadow Milk’s powers could only reach so far from within the silver tree. Hell, if anything, he had no idea how he was even watching in the first place. What he guessed was that it was some kind of weird connection, especially with the way his soul felt weirdly happy about it. Filled with glee, even. How annoying.

All he could do was watch and listen, and that deeply infuriated him.

Eventually, they tired themselves out, too exhausted to keep on observing the flowers or whatever the hell. If that even counted, really, because how could they observe anything without any sight in their eyes?

They said their goodbyes to their new sheep friend and went on their merry way, back to their home. Greeted by warm arms and an even warmer voice, served food so delicious Shadow Milk’s own mouth salivated at being unable to eat it. With nothing to fill his own stomach, only the taste on his tongue. Then, they went to bed, tucked in by their guardian, safe and sound.

And then there was nothing. Just like that, the whole thing was gone, Shadow Milk being pulled back to hell by force. It took him a solid second to adjust back to himself again, to his isolation. All alone once more. They had fallen asleep.

Oh.

How many hours had it been that Shadow Milk was watching? Since when had the sun set, night fallen, the child’s tiredness being felt through him? He was sure he saw the sun high in the sky the first time he was paying attention to it. And suddenly it was all gone, like it never happened. The day passed so quickly.

He’d realized then that, despite his annoyance towards the child themselves, Shadow Milk was… having fun . This was the most entertainment he’s had in who knows how long. Even if it was one-sided, a play watched solely by him, it was still fun. It was bittersweet how fast it had all gone by, like time was all but mocking him. He wanted it back. He wanted to do it again.

And so he reached once more, the third time just that day. Searching, focusing. Surely there was something else to watch, maybe an adult this time — someone with a more interesting life. Perhaps he could watch plenty of different cookies, like changing through the channels of a TV. Yet, no matter how much he looked for it, all he could see was the darkness, and the vague haziness of what felt like distant dreams. He couldn’t switch to a different person, couldn’t pick and choose what and who to watch.

Bound to this child, that’s what he was. Completely trapped by whatever force was currently mocking him, laughing at him from above. Probably a wretched Witch, or something along those lines. What a joke.

Shadow Milk Cookie slumped against the cold floor, giving up completely. He had accepted he’d have to wait until morning for whatever that connection was to happen again. Maybe he should sleep as well, if only for time to pass quicker.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, letting slumber take him.

Something weird happened this time around. Upon waking up, he wasn’t himself — instead there it was, the blobs of color everywhere he looked, never focusing, always more unseeing than not. He tried moving, but nothing happened. His body stretched his arms, opening his mouth with a yawn. A voice much squeakier than his came out as he closed his eyes, shuffling in bed. It was comfortable under the covers, the sun rays shining straight through the window and into his room.

Slowly, as awareness overcame him more than drowsiness, he got up. His legs wobbled briefly, eyes a tad watery from having just awoken. He rubbed at them, slowly making his way out of his room. And upon gazing into the bathroom mirror, he saw himself.

Except it was not.

The vague shape of a tiny cookie of brown dough and pale blonde hair, mismatched eyes staring back. He was clearly a baby — Shadow Milk was finally able to tell what his gender was, as the voice hadn’t given it away. A boy, brushing his teeth and cleaning himself up for the day.

Huh. How odd. Instead of waking up as himself, Shadow Milk Cookie had woken up already observing his mini theater.

The child (of whom he still had no idea the name of) got ready for the day, lazily dragging himself around, clearly still sleepy but not wanting to go back to sleep. Shadow Milk expected him to immediately go outside back to his little sheep friend, but instead he’d grabbed a book, of which Shadow Milk couldn’t even read, touching the little dots on the pages instead. His braille was incredibly rusty from years of unuse, so he could only tell a few letters from each other. Oh, how great, the child had chosen to spend his time reading instead of doing anything more entertaining than that.

Annoying, annoying, annoying! Last night he had fun, but how could he this time if he couldn’t even read with the kid ? All he could do was try to absorb anything the braille was giving him, but it was hard to keep up with how fast the pipsqueak read the letters. Seriously, he didn’t even know it was possible for someone to read tiny dots this fast, especially for a kid so young. Slightly impressive, he supposed.

For his own amusement, Shadow Milk played with illusions at the corner of the child’s eyes. Unfortunately he still couldn’t see them, but it was fun nonetheless to poke at and mess with him, even if he couldn’t do much. Better than doing nothing and just waiting until he was done with his little reading session.

The day didn’t get much better as it went on.

He read all day, briefly went outside to practice some magic, went back inside, and there he went to bed once more. Except, this whole entire thing passed so tortuously slowly that Shadow Milk felt he was losing his mind. How could someone live such a boring existence and be fine with it?! Granted, it was a child, but still. Did he have no friends to play tag with or something along those lines? No one to talk to about what he was currently interested in? What kind of kid even spends all day reading instead of doing literally anything else???

Shadow Milk felt like he was about to melt, and not in the good way. He could feel it, how his real body was hunched over itself, hair liquid and slimy on his back, clearly unhappy about the whole thing. The helplessness of being able to do nothing to make it more interesting only made it worse. Finally he had some type of contact with someone, but of course he couldn’t see him or hear him.

And just like that, the kid went to sleep again. Unbelievable!

The next day wasn’t much better. This time around, he spent his time talking to his guardian, playing a bit with them. How lovely. Then he went right back to reading, because of course he did. Then the next day he was back outside, studying, trying to move the angle where the light of the sun hit a specific tree. An incredibly easy spell that anyone could do, and the kid clearly had the magical capabilities for it, yet he still struggled. Poor thing, so weak and pathetic, it was truly laughable.

He could perform healing magic so easily, as easy as it was walking or breathing. But as soon as it came to anything else, it was a struggle. Shadow Milk couldn’t relate, he was the opposite — healing magic was the death of him, while brute force came naturally. He could heal, if he so wanted to, but that was the thing. He didn’t want to, so he did not. Simple as that.

Days passed. Shadow Milk began his counting again, this time days instead of seconds. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday… he actually kept pretty good track of it, even if the child himself didn’t.

The routine got boring really fast. To the kid, this was the best life ever. Being able to relax and have fun, even if he was lonely without friends. To Shadow Milk, living a life so mundane felt like a prison. Not like he could say much, considering he was quite literally in a prison, but alas.

It was during one of those boring days that Shadow Milk decided to be a little more experimental with what he could do. He focused hard on body and mind, trying to make a clear distinction between his own and the kid’s. It was a thin little thing to visualize, the thread that separated them so tiny it was barely visible, but it was there. He could see it now, as though he was standing in front of the child in a mass puddle of nothingness, peering back at him.

He was tiny, as Shadow Milk Cookie had already seen. With features now finally distinguishable from random forms of color, he could clearly see what the kid looked like. Straight blonde hair, falling just shy of his shoulders. Brown dough with rosy, chubby cheeks. Eyes a mismatch of blue and yellow. A tiny little star at the center of his forehead, what looked to be a birthmark. Stubby legs covered by black pants. Shadow Milk had to crouch to fully see the cookie he had been looking through for days on end, weeks at that point.

A normal child, really. Shadow Milk couldn’t see anything particularly outstanding, nor why his soul decided the kid was so special. Maybe it had just picked a random cookie and proceeded to run with it, or maybe fate was working its threads again, as it always does.

He huffed. The kid was too tiny and crouching was too irritating for him. In one moment, Shadow Milk Cookie stood, and in the other, a much smaller version of him appeared.

Blinking into existence, his new form greeted him — small hands, stubby legs, short white hair just shy of his shoulders, tinted chubby cheeks, a brown bag over his shoulder. Shadow Milk hadn’t used this form for millennia now, never really seeing a point in it, yet this time it proved to be much more useful.

Now he matched the child’s height perfectly, his own mismatched eyes looking at the other’s. Carefully, he reached for the kid’s hands, grasping them into his. They were the same size as his, though his own were much colder. Nothing but an illusion.

He looked back up, the child’s impassive face stared at him, unblinking. Like a doll. This was all a mirage, simply something to help him visualize the thread that separated their bodies better. But the longer Shadow Milk looked at their hands, the longer he thought about how desperately he wanted to live the life this child was living.

“You live a boring existence,” he started, bitterly. The voice that came out of his throat was not his, a much younger version coming out. “But you still find joy in it. You find such a simple life to be everything you could ever wish for.” A pregnant pause. Shadow Milk squeezed the vessel’s hands. “I envy you.”

In a blink, what once was a black nothing morphed into everything . Something much more than a pathetic and pitiful existence he once had. Colors, vibrating and shiny, the sun above his head warming his cold skin. Grass blades cutting into his feet. The breeze gently swept at his short hair, birds sung freely in the sky.

He gasped, disoriented, taking hesitant steps. He couldn’t fly, only walk, as he’d come to find out. Even his magic no longer worked as he desperately tried summoning it in his fingers, frustrated at how nothing seemed to work. The endless sky above him terrified him. What had just happened?

Unsteady and unused to his legs, Shadow Milk Cookie stumbled forward once, twice, before pitifully falling to the ground. He hissed as his knee bled, jam pouring out of it in what looked to be waves, much bigger than what it was supposed to be. The pain exploded from his leg, like nothing he’d ever felt before. Unbeknownst to him, tears sprung into his eyes, and a sob tore out of his throat.

What was going on? How was he here? Why did everything feel so big, and he so small, and why did the pain feel tenfold when it was just a small scratch? Why did his magic not work? Why, why, why?!

“Poor thing, are you hurt…?”

Shadow Milk’s head shot up, eyes wide. A small little thing looked at him through unseeing eyes, a worried crease on his brow. The child stood in front of him once more, except this time, it was real. He was right there, breathing and alive, concerned for him.

“I’m not. I’m fine !” A tiny, painful sound came from him. It was clearly not fine, judging from the way his eyes were full of tears. Embarrassing.

A tiny brown hand reached out, “Here, let me help you.” Shadow Milk flinched as he watched it come closer, yet didn’t try to run away. If anything, he was petrified. He knew the kid was harmless, but there was just something so horrifying about no longer being in his own body, no longer having control. The hand stood in place just above the injury on his knee, before a small yellow light came from his palm.

He closed his eyes, letting the light flow out of his hand freely. In seconds, Shadow Milk could feel how the wound closed around itself, the bleeding stopping after just a bit of magic came out. It was impressive how much better he felt after, like his whole body had been cleansed and rested in only a moment.

The child opened his eyes with a soft, gentle smile. He looked pleased with himself, proud of what he had accomplished. As the palm lifted from its place of rest, the injury on his leg had, as expected, been completely healed.

“There we go, friend.” The child said warmly, even with how Shadow Milk looked at him like he was a monster with several heads. After a few seconds of just staring at each other, Shadow Milk had enough. This was too much, too overwhelming. He still couldn’t make sense of why he felt like this, like everything was much scarier than it actually was. With a small noise, he launched himself towards the child, wrapping his arms around him. “It was no problem, really…! I’m glad I got to help you!” The kid gently combed through his short hair, so sweetly Shadow Milk almost forgot where he was.

He breathed in the child’s scent. It smelled like home, wherever home was. His souljam felt pleased with this turn of events, even though he had no idea where it was. Like this was always supposed to happen. Like it was meant to be. Eventually, the child gently pushed him away, still smiling warmly.

“I’m Pure Vanilla Cookie. What’s your name, friend?”

Chapter Text

The trek through the fields was less than quiet.

Pure Vanilla was a talker . He apparently enjoyed yapping a lot about anything and everything that came to mind. For a child who spent his days quietly studying and reading, he sure wouldn’t stop once he actually had someone listening to him. In retrospect, Shadow Milk should have expected this – he’d seen the way Pure Vanilla spoke to that sheep, many days ago. Still, though, it was impressive how he just didn’t run out of things to say.

And, of course, the sheep followed him everywhere.

He hadn’t noticed it at first, too disoriented in trying to get used to the new, weird gravity that forced him to actually walk on his two feet. His legs were so stubby and tiny, walking got tiring fast . He was quickly starting to hate this body, but without his magic, there was nothing he could do about it except complain in his head. And complain he did, practically screaming in his own mind, if only anyone could hear him.

It looked very happy just to be there. The sheep, he means. It was kind of just there, following Pure Vanilla close behind, not even giving Shadow Milk one passing glance. Pure Vanilla hadn’t even given it a name, just calling it “friend”. Very sweet, yet uncreative. Maybe he should start capitalizing the first letter.

Compared to the child, Shadow Milk hadn’t spoken a word since, still trying to figure out exactly what happened. Whether it was a trick of the Witches, or maybe a curse. Considering the way his magic was no more, he wouldn’t be surprised if this was some sort of new prison, except slightly better than the emptiness of the silver tree. One thing he knew for sure: it had something to do with his Soul Jam, if the way it thrummed warmly was any indication.

Never had it done that before, either. Which was even weirder. How come he’d never felt his Soul Jam so active before, like it was alive? He knew it always had some sort of conscience, but never like this. Never felt as happy as it did now.

The child definitely had something to do with it, he figured – why else would he be the only one Shadow Milk was able to watch, back in the silver tree? Something about this kid was special, though what was a mystery to him.

Call him paranoid, but he was the Beast of Deceit for a reason. There was something fishy going on, and it was up to him to figure it out. If only this kid would shut up!

“I’ve finished the new book my mama gave me, the one I mentioned before. You remember that, right, Friend?” Pure Vanilla spoke to the sheep casually. Shadow Milk didn’t get it, it couldn’t even understand him. What was the reason? 

And then Pure Vanilla turned around, looking right past him. Shadow Milk blinked, confuddled for a solid second, before he realized. Oh. The “friend” wasn’t capitalized this time.

“...right, I do.” He didn’t. Had no idea what Pure Vanilla was talking about. The sheep behind him bleated. Pure Vanilla smiled wide, looking delighted to hear it.

“It was really fun! It was a fairytale. Mama found it with a traveling merchant. The library in the nearest town doesn’t have books for me, so she has to wait until someone who sells them passes by. It doesn’t happen often, so I usually have to make do with just figure books.” He explained, turning his gaze back over to in front of him. “I can’t see them well either, but I can kind of imagine a story when the images are big enough. It’s not so bad, I like creating stories too. Do you like stories, friend?”

Shadow Milk paused, almost feeling offended. This kid had no clue who he was talking to! It would be funny if it wasn’t just absolutely pathetic. 

“I love them.” He mumbled instead of doing his usual theatrics. Shadow Milk had always been about playing characters, after all – all of his forms have different personalities, different facades he plays whenever he takes their form. Even though this child form was all but a lie, he would still play the part of a sheepish, helpless child for a single audience member.

Pure Vanilla Cookie giggled as the sheep bleated once more. “Really? Then you’ll like my book collection! I’ll show them to you. You will probably enjoy it more than I do. Just don’t eat the pages, alright?” Shadow Milk scoffed.

“I’m not eating the pages! Gross!” He blew a raspberry as Friend bumped its head against Pure Vanilla. With how tiny he was, he almost got shoved to the ground, giggling all the while.

“Sorry, sorry! You won’t eat them!” His shoulders shook as he laughed, petting the sheep’s head as it gladly accepted it. How very adorable.

The chatter continued, Pure Vanilla mostly talking to himself as the sheep answered every once in a while with its own very important inquiries. Shadow Milk, again, quieted down. It was too weird to participate in a conversation with a child in which said kid also thought you were his age. Normally, when speaking to little ones, he’d be crouching to about their level and talking to them sweetly, trying to be gentle. That’s how he used to do before all the corruption bullshit happened anyway. But now, being brought to Pure Vanilla’s level, it was a different thing.

Pure Vanilla spoke to him like he was an equal, and not an adult to be admired. He didn’t have little stars in his eyes when speaking to Shadow Milk, like every other child he’s ever spoken to had.

Whatever! He’d have to get used to plenty of much more difficult things now that he was stuck. Being spoken to like a child wouldn’t be the death of him. Plus, being a liar was his whole shtick anyway, he could handle it.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t complain about it, though.

Shadow Milk looked down at his tiny, stubby legs. The boots he was wearing were a bit too small on him. Had his child form grown somehow, with the time he hadn’t changed to it? None of his forms were supposed to change unless he actively chose to. His brow raised in confusion, channeling energy through his fingers.

He could feel it, deep down in his core. The magic was still there , just barely out of reach. If he reached deep enough, maybe he could grasp at it, but focusing on that right now wouldn’t be a good idea. He’d have to be in a quiet place, devoid of any distractions, in order to pull something that far. Frustrating it was, to feel it yet to be unable to use it at all. As though it was sealed inside him rather than around him, like it was in the silver tree.

“Oh! I trained the spell from the other day! Would you like to see?” Pure Vanilla’s voice caught his attention again, Shadow Milk’s gaze snapping back up. He was looking somewhere in his direction, slightly down. The sheep made a happy noise as Shadow Milk nodded in agreement. “Okay! Follow me!”

Pure Vanilla then promptly turned around and skipped towards the nearest tree, Friend following close behind. Shadow Milk shouted a small “wait!” as he followed suit, wobbly legs carrying him to the small spot the other had chosen to do his tiny spell. Seriously, how could normal cookies manage to walk all day, when it had barely been an hour and Shadow Milk was already exhausted? He’ll miss floating…

“Look,” Pure Vanilla stepped close to a leaf on the ground, sunrays conveniently shining straight onto it through the tree leaves. His staff was placed next to him as he kneeled in front of it, both hands extended towards it. Shadow Milk leaned in, observing in boredom. Such basic spell, even a child this tiny could execute it, and yet this one had a hard time.

He closed his eyes in concentration, fingers twitching. Light manipulation wasn’t that hard to learn, though the harder the spell, the more you’d have to study and master it. It’s why cookies who wish to become great at magic have to generally choose only one type of it in order to become truly strong. Though some of them make their own magic, such as Shadow Milk, their roots were always in one of the elements. 

Seems this kid chose light. A wise choice, considering he saw things clearer with an abundance of it.

It took him a few seconds, but eventually, the sunray slowly moved. It was clear with how furrowed his brows were that Pure Vanilla was struggling, yet still determined. His fingers shook as the light shone on the other side of the leaf, the sheep bleating at Pure Vanilla’s accomplishment. Shadow Milk clapped, giving Pure Vanilla at least some credit. He was clearly trying, though he should stick to healing only, with how much easier it was for him.

“Did you see that?” Pure Vanilla opened his eyes, a huge smile on his face as he noticed the sun hitting a different spot than it was a few seconds ago. He looked positively delighted.

“Impressive.” He said, trying very hard not to let sarcasm drip from his voice. At least Pure Vanilla’s innocent joy was contagious. The sheep bumped its head against him, and he brought his arms up to pet it.

“Thank you! Mama said I’m improving, she said I might even be able to get into Blueberry Yogurt Academy one day!”

Shadow Milk froze, staring at Pure Vanilla unblinking. Right. Blueberry Yogurt Academy, the school every young talented cookie wanted to study at.

In all his years imprisoned, he had never forgotten it. The academy he created himself with his own jam, sweat and tears. Built from the ground up, taught hundreds, up to thousands – until it finally became the prestigious academy he wished it became. How long had it been, again? Surely the place wasn’t being run so well now that its principal was gone, right?

“She never managed to get into it, so she really wants me to,” Pure Vanilla explained without being prompted to, getting up and dusting his hoodie. “I think I might have a chance. I’m really good at healing, I think! I just need to get better at… other things.”

Credit where credit was due; healing was an incredibly difficult type of magic to master. In most pieces of fictional media, all you had to do to heal was simply to concentrate magic in one spot, and boom! Healed. That wasn’t quite how it worked in the real world, however. Sure, focusing on one spot was definitely part of it, but there was way more to it that made it so most cookies avoided trying to learn anything past the basics.

For one, you had to actually learn medical stuff. That was the main reason most were averse to the art that was healing. Creating big, flashy explosions was one thing – simply burst your magic in a specific spot and you’d get exactly what you wanted, and depending on the amount of magic you put, you’d get a bigger explosion. Healing included years of studying biology, anatomy, and various boring medical things.

Theoretically, any cookies could close an open wound if they tried. But had they not have any medical knowledge on how to properly do it, the end results would likely end up wonky at best and bad at worst. To heal big injuries, one would need to learn how to reconstruct entire cells, and essentially create dough from nothing .

So for a cookie as young as Pure Vanilla to be so good at it, it either meant he had a natural talent, or the kid was really smart. Impressive regardless, for real this time. 

“You’ll get in, I just know it!” Shadow Milk offered the kid a smile. Theatrical and practiced, nothing but a lie, yet just enough to appease Pure Vanilla’s wish for approval. Predictably, he beamed.

“You really think so, friend? Yay!” he grabbed at the sheep’s tiny hooves, spinning it around as it bleated in delight. Shadow Milk’s eyes twitched, though his smile never ceased looking genuine. 

Somehow, everything Pure Vanilla did felt so warm, and it had barely been an hour since they began actually speaking. Truly, very impressive .

As the night fell, the sun setting in the horizon, Shadow Milk was struck with a realization.

He was a child now. From context clues of Pure Vanilla’s outside adventures, the nearest town was thirty whole minutes walking from where they were. There was nowhere else he could possibly sleep in, and with the inability to float, he couldn’t even go up in the clouds and use the whole sky as his bed. How was he supposed to explain to this kid that he didn’t have anywhere to stay? No family to welcome him with open arms? No child that age would ever understand it. If anything, Pure Vanilla hadn’t even questioned who he was or where he was from, all he did was accept Shadow Milk as a friend and promptly go on a small journey around the fields with him.

As though he assumed Shadow Milk was just a temporary friend who would go away when night fell. Like he wouldn’t be here for too long. Shadow Milk supposed there was some true to those words, surely eventually he would end up being sent back to where he belonged, right?

For now though, with no indication of it, Shadow Milk was left with very little options. 

What to do, what to do…

“I have to go back home now, friend. My mama is waiting for me.” Pure Vanilla explained, already making his way back. If it got too dark, no doubt the poor child would be completely blind – a smart idea to leave before the sun fully set.

Shadow Milk frowned. “Can I come with you?” 

Yet, all he got back was a hum, and not much else. Great response, thanks! If there was one thing Shadow Milk hated, was to be ignored. If only he had his magic, he’d love to mess with this kid right then and there.

“Actually, do you have any place to sleep?” Pure Vanilla pondered, briefly looking back through Shadow Milk, who shook his head no. “Hm. I can lend you one of my pillows… I dunno if mama will let you in. I’m sorry.”

“I can sneak in,” Shadow Milk was all too eager to offer, not wanting to sleep on the goddamn floor with only a pillow for comfort. Not even a blanket? Seriously, it was getting cold by now!

“Wait.” Pure Vanilla briefly stopped, a small frown on his face. “Do you have a mama?”

“No.” He blurted out before he could properly think of a response, a better calibrated lie. The sheep bleated next to him.

“Oh, I see.” The child sighed nasally, seemingly thinking of his options. Surely he wouldn’t just leave Shadow Milk outside to fend for himself, right? Not when this form was so tiny and defenseless. “Hm… we have a stable we don’t use, mama sold our candyhorses. You can stay there! The hay’s comfortable, I slept there before!”

Shadow Milk’s eyes twitched. He smiled nonetheless.

“Okay.”

“Great! I’ll take you there.”

He wasn’t sure what he expected the stable to look like. Maybe something grand, like the fancy stables he’d seen before. But no, it was a tiny little thing, only really able to fit three candyhorses or so. At least it had a roof, but other than that, the fence didn’t offer much protection from the outside world.

“Here, I’ll show you how nice this is.” Pure Vanilla opened the fence, motioning for Shadow Milk to follow him. He jumped atop a pile of hay that, admittedly, did look very soft. The sheep (of which he had no clue why it was still following them around) followed suit, laying next to the child. “See! Super soft!”

Well. Better than nothing.

Shadow Milk hesitantly stepped forward, sitting atop the pile. It wasn’t bad, really. The hay poked him every once in a while, but other than that, it was perfectly soft. He played with it with his hands, moving it around. 

“Do you like it?” Friend made a noise, apparently already comfortable enough to close its eyes and fall right asleep. Shadow Milk nodded.

“It’s fine.”

Pure Vanilla smiled, petting Friend for a brief second before standing up, gathering his cane in his hand. He adjusted his clothes, offering the two of them a small wave.

“I’ll be going then! I’ll see you in the morning, friend.”

And then he was gone. And now Shadow Milk was alone once more – not so much, as he had the sheep with him, but it hardly counted as company. He laid down with a sigh, shuffling in order to get more comfortable.

…what the fuck.

Now that he finally had downtime to think, all he could repeat in his head were the same words over and over again. What was that? What was today as a whole?

None of this made sense. What was he supposed to do now that he was stuck? At least while in the silver tree he knew for sure what was happening. He was imprisoned for the rest of eternity, and that was that. But here ? He had no idea what to think of it, or what to do about it. Was he just stuck forever as well, just in a different setting? What of the other beasts, were they also going through similar things?

Too many questions with far little answers. Shadow Milk felt like he was losing his mind little by little. Surely he wouldn’t have to live as a child, right? This body was just an illusion anyhow, it wasn’t his true form. It wouldn’t grow, would remain unchanging. At least that’s what he thought; he had never stayed in one form for long enough to see it naturally aging, or something like that. Even in his most used body, whenever he would switch off then back, it would just reset back to its original state.

Shadow Milk scoffed. No, this wasn’t right. He wouldn’t let himself lose to whatever this state of being was. He was the Beast of Deceit! The leader of the beasts! He’d never be so weak as to give up before even trying.

And so he closed his eyes and reached. Deep, deep within – to where his magic was hiding. He could feel it, beneath his fingertips. His Soul Jam was nowhere to be seen, but he could still tell it was somewhere there, thrumming with energy. Perfectly placated in his being, happy to be here. Wherever here was.

It had always been endearing to watch children try so hard to reach their magic and use it however they wished. Hell, even today, watching Pure Vanilla. He had been trying so hard, the energy right there yet so far. Shadow Milk never had a hard time accessing it, ever. He understood now why they struggled so much. Had his magic adapted to his body? Was that why he couldn’t use it freely? Did he have to… learn how to use it?

Preposterous!

Shadow Milk never had to learn it. It just came to him, the moment he was baked. It had always been there, and he used it as easily as he breathed. Yet, now he found himself struggling to even touch it! How could this be?!

With a frustrated groan, he flipped his body, burying himself into the hay. The sheep made a noise that could only be described as complaint, but he couldn’t care less. He was angry, fuming. It was lucky he couldn’t just blow it up! It should thank him for the mercy, even!

He was nothing but a determined cookie. If he had to relearn magic, then so be it. He would, and he’d be great at it.