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Only when the other four were beyond the horizon would Silent Salt Cookie's soul exit the Silver Tree. Despite his lack of a physical form, he felt weary. He knew he wouldn't be able to simply roam forever without being confined to some sort of vessel, but he wanted to see how the Faerie Kingdom had prospered over the past eons.
The dough of Elder Faerie Cookie lay lifeless on the ground, covered in jam and missing entire chunks of dough. Silent Salt Cookie did not fear the crumbled; he wanted to join them. What disturbed him was knowing Elder Faerie's soul was not there. He could try and figure out how to give Elder Faerie Cookie life again once he found the remaining half of his being.
He read inscriptions about the Knights of the Silver Tree. They would give their floral ingredients up for metal in their devotion to what they thought was an act of the Creators. Something about how they were described gave Silent Salt Cookie a strange feeling; it was clear Elder Faerie had taken some sort of inspiration from the Knights of Kala Namak.
He wouldn't call the feeling fondness. He was a Beast, a fallen Emissary of the Gods. He could not possibly feel anything after the atrocities he had committed. Yet knowing Elder Faerie Cookie had thought of him over the years was certainly making him think he still had feelings after all.
The Faerie Library was the next place Silent Salt Cookie wandered. The scrolls of music that held the secrets to the kingdom and its history were still kept neatly, and the aroma of flowers and parchment still mixed together in a way Silent Salt Cookie remembered fondly. He wandered through the shelves and boxes, and Librarian Faerie Cookie continued to work. She couldn't see him, of course, yet he wondered if she could sense the presence of evil.
He searched the oldest of records, scanning to make sure any trace of his old name or the Knights of Kala Namak was destroyed. Silent Salt Cookie turned up nothing of importance, but he found a small notebook unlike the various scrolls kept in the library. The handwriting was not that of Elder Faerie; there was less flourishes, and the connection between each letter seemed to indicate the focus the writer had.
I was enjoying some of the food from yesterday's banquet when I noticed the strangest thing. There was a butterfly nearby, and when a few grains of salt came loose, it was obsessed.
That could explain a lot, but the Salt of Solidarity was gone. No butterfly would wish for salt mixed in with crumbs and regret. Silent Salt Cookie read on, however, for his curiosity got the better of him.
I had thought maybe that one butterfly was just different, so I gathered the rest of the grains and walked to the Butterfly Garden. They practically swarmed the table I put the salt on! Even Elder Faerie glanced up from his gardening for a moment, but I don't think he wanted me to know that. Maybe this could be useful for a ritual someday.
Silent Salt Cookie would probably never get to know whether or not a ritual involved the use of salt, though he doubted Elder Faerie Cookie would want to see a pinch of salt at all anymore. It would be a reminder of what the once noble knight had done to others, a reminder of the jam that was spilled by one he once loved.
He set the notebook down. Elder Faerie Cookie's personal chambers were not far from the library, and perhaps the soul of the Faerie King would rest there. By some miracle, though he was in a state between crumbled and living, the key to Elder Faerie's chambers he kept near his Soul Jam still opened the door. The room was not very different from what it was before, but a locked trunk in the corner caught his eye.
It was made of metal, as were many things in the Faerie Kingdom. Elder Faerie Cookie had never been fond of wood as a building material; it was meant to be a home for nature, not for Cookiekind. The key was already in the lock, and Silent Salt Cookie twisted it. It took a small amount of effort; perhaps the trunk was rarely opened. Within it was the missing era of history: boxes with scrolls about the Salt of Solidarity, portraits of the King and the Knight spending time together, and bundles of letters that Silent Salt Cookie had written before his fall.
He couldn't bring himself to touch any of it. It was better left in the past, after all. Why did Elder Faerie Cookie not understand that there was no more Salt of Solidarity? The moment he became Silent Salt Cookie, the one who Elder Faerie had wanted was of a bygone era.
Silent Salt Cookie needed to clear his head. A physical form would be nice in such a situation. Your dough continues the motions of life without you as if you are watching it all in a play. Without something material to rely on, Silent Salt Cookie had to find the willpower. He walked toward the Butterfly Garden, which had been Elder Faerie Cookie's favorite place. Even if he could not find Elder Faerie's soul there, he could rest his own before continuing the search.
The gate opened easily; Elder Faerie must have maintained it himself for it to be in such pristine condition. The butterflies flocked toward Silent Salt Cookie as they always seemed to. Before reading that journal, he had never given it much thought. Elder Faerie Cookie had a bench in the back corner that he would use whenever he needed space, and Silent Salt Cookie knew that was where he would be.
For a moment, the world stood still. Their eyes had not met for eons, yet they still shared that spark. It was almost painful for Silent Salt Cookie. The rush of emotion after feeling empty for so long was disorienting.
And then Elder Faerie Cookie smiled. It was the kind of smile that could show more sadness than any frown ever would. It looked as if Elder Faerie hadn't smiled in centuries, but he could still recognize that smile from a continent away.
"I had hoped our paths would cross one last time," Elder Faerie Cookie said, breaking the silence that hung in the air. Silent Salt Cookie stepped towards him slowly, as if he would disappear from sudden movement.
It was still so surreal. He had been trapped for so long, knowing it had all been for the best, content with his fate. It was all for nothing. What had Elder Faerie Cookie done to himself?
"Elder Faerie Cookie..." Silent Salt Cookie replied, setting his sword to the side. "Who did this to you?"
"That is of little importance," he argued. "The Guardian's power still wanders, for I relinquished it. Much of my life powder was used to give this Cookie the chance to carry my legacy."
"I will find the Cookie who did this and make them suffer as you have," Silent Salt Cookie declared. "I thought I was beyond feeling, but whenever you are involved, it seems I am but a Cookie."
"You must find the Guardian," Elder Faerie continued, "for she will be able to complete the beast binding ritual once more."
"Not yet," Silent Salt Cookie said. "We must go to the laboratorium. Dark Enchantress Cookie wishes to provide the Beasts with dough once more. If she wishes for my presence, I will demand she gives you a vessel as well."
Elder Faerie stood, stepping toward Silent Salt Cookie. He wanted to step closer as well, but he was overwhelmed with feelings.
Happiness. He hated that word. Perhaps there was a sort of bitterness to it, but it was more of a sickening sweetness. What was once a part of Cookie nature was now tainted by corruption.
Rage. A feeling far more familiar to the Devil of Silence. It wasn't the last thing he'd ever felt, but it was the last thing he'd felt as the Salt of Solidarity. The Salt who would greet children instead of scaring them away. The Salt who would be at the Faerie Kingdom exactly when he promised he would. The Salt who cared for Cookiekind, who saw the good in them.
Fear. Silent Salt Cookie had known little of this feeling, but it was recognizable. He wouldn't describe Elder Faerie Cookie himself as scary; he had always been vulnerable, but the jarring environment after eons of darkness made this manifest into fear.
Confusion. Why had Elder Faerie given up his life's purpose to another Cookie instead of having faith in his recovery? And dear Gods, careless Creators, what Cookie had he given such powers to?
"I must stay here," he said. Silent Salt Cookie failed to process for a few moments. "I have sworn my loyalty to the Faerie Kingdom."
"The Beasts escaped," Silent Salt Cookie replied. "You'll crumble for nothing."
"You will see in due time that our work has not been in vain," Elder Faerie explained. "Yes, the Fallen Emissaries have broken free of the seal, but they lack half of their power. Their purified halves, the Ancient Heroes, will not allow them to hurt Cookiekind."
The Devil of Silence paused. He knew it was hard to change Elder Faerie Cookie's mind. He knew he may very well fail, but he was no better than his so-called allies if he didn't try.
"But no one will know of your sacrifice," Silent Salt Cookie protested. "You gave your power for a Cookie who may not uphold your values."
"You forget I have been in your position," Elder Faerie interjected. "Convincing a Cookie to stay, to hold onto the hope of the future."
Agony. He knew Elder Faerie Cookie was right; he had made such a sacrifice, and Elder Faerie had begged him all the same. Even so, he thought there was still a chance if he stood strong. He could not give up.
"No," he insisted, "I am not leaving you. You will come with me to the Laboritorium-"
Elder Faerie Cookie brought his hand to the side of Silent Salt Cookie's helmet, right where he used to cup the Knight's face on the serene evenings. Silent Salt Cookie hadn't felt the touch of another Cookie for an indescribable amount of time.
"My dear Salt..." the former Guardian began.
"Don't do this to me, Elder Faerie Cookie," Silent Salt Cookie scoffed. It was self-deprecating, if anything. "You know I am no longer the Salt of Solidarity who you fell in love with."
"And that means I am not in love with you still?" Elder Faerie whispered to him. "I whispered to the tree on rainy days. I wept under its shelter. My tears nourished it, yet there was no joy within my heart knowing you made a sacrifice that no Cookie shall ever make again."
Love. Even as the Salt of Solidarity, he had run away from it for so long. What would the Knights think? What would Elder Faerie Cookie himself think of the truth? He had kept quiet. But now, broken and tainted, he still felt the same about Elder Faerie Cookie.
"I will bring you a vessel from the Laboratorium, then," Silent Salt Cookie continued.
Hope. It was fleeting. The more you held, the more it would hurt when you lost it. The Salt of Solidarity had lost hope slowly as each Emissary went quiet. But he had kept strong for the Knights and for his lover.
"Silent Salt Cookie," Elder Faerie Cookie sighed, "you do not understand. I have fulfilled my purpose. I protected our Silver Tree and allowed Earthbread to prosper. You must find your purified half, the Queen of the Faeries. Help her as you would help me. I will lead her to you, but you must accept her."
Despair. There is nothing one can do but accept it once the futility of hope becomes clear. The Salt of Solidarity had never felt despair this pure. It had always been channeled into anger and determination.
Regret. He removed his helmet. He had never shown Elder Faerie Cookie his face before the ritual, and he had never rested well with that fact on his mind.
"You're still so beautiful," he said. "You may not believe me, but I swear on my honor it's true. I see before me the noble Cookie I always have."
And Silent Salt Cookie could no longer restrain himself. He kissed Elder Faerie Cookie because he had accepted he would never get to again. He tried not to cry, to maintain himself, but he couldn't stop the tears once they started. By the time he had pulled away and opened his eyes again, Elder Faerie Cookie was fading away. Silent Salt Cookie could no longer feel the little bit of warmth he had left.
"Someday, we will have each other for eternity," Elder Faerie Cookie said. And then he was gone.
Silent Salt Cookie did not cry any longer. He did not feel anything. He was numb, and all that remained was a dull ache in his heart. For a moment, he had been reminded of what was before.
"Someday..." he echoed, looking toward the sky. It was always some variant of overcast in the Faerie Kingdom, but it felt more ominous today.
He picked up his sword. Perhaps the fiends he had once known as friends were gone from the Laboratorium by now. He could have peace to plan his next move. He would find the Cookie who released the Beasts and undo their damage. He would avenge his lover's legacy.
Silence. It suffocated him. There was no room to feel or think above the forced quiet. In hindsight, all he had ever been good for was silence.