Chapter Text
Elder Faerie Cookie had stood at the gates of the Kingdom all night. It was a sort of vigil he had done countless times before, yet in those moments, he had stood before the Silver Tree in its most vulnerable moments, fear keeping him awake at the thought of the fate that may be wrecked upon Earthbread, and the agonizing guilt that may consume him if he were unable to uphold his promise.
Yet now, his gaze had not flickered to the Tree even once. That stern gaze had stayed trained on the forest beyond the kingdom, kept wide not with fear or by duty but by yearning. A simple longing to see those fuschia eyes, that small yet earnest smile, and white, braided haircing approaching him. If she truly were to return, he knew it would be with heartbreak in her chest and tears in that devoted gaze, but it would be better than no return at all. The urge to keep her there- to take her hand, to tell her exactly what she would find at the Witches’ Banquet- it had almost overwhelmed him as he saw her cloak trail against the ground of the Kingdom.
Though he knew that she would not rest until she saw it for herself. That unyielding faith in finding a better world for all of Cookiekind, a peaceful one- was that not what had driven her to help the Faeries in the first place? In the time they had spent together, he had never seen a heart that shined so resolutely with the will to go to the ends of Earthbread for the world she loved so much. Truly, he could see why the Light of Freedom had chosen her.
Though as the sun began to dawn, light trickling through the forest, the rays of warmth slowly beginning to illuminate the silver-tinged world around him, worry began to rise up through his dough and into his mind. The Banquet was only meant to last one night, and by all means, it must have concluded by now. Had the Moonstone failed to work? Or-
Finally, eyes widening as terror struck into his very core, Elder Faerie turned around, wings extending behind him as he finally looked to the Tree. With a single flap of their shimmering glamour, he was moving through the air much faster than a regular Cookie’s legs could allow, despair brimming through his thoughts.
As the Tree came into view, he surveyed the branches- the shining lights of the Tree that twisted and formed the shapes of the newly claimed Soul Jams.
He expected to have his heart drop to his stomach, to call to the Kingdom to stop their celebrations and prepare for the worst immediately, but the branch that had belonged to the Light of Freedom was still shining.
His heeled shoes touched the ground as he landed, mind whirling. The Light of Freedom and its owner were still intact and shining, but White Lily Cookie had not returned.
“Your Majesty?”
He looked over his shoulder, unsurprised to see Mercurial Knight Cookie. He’d have certainly noticed the sounds of any other Cookie approaching him.
Mercurial Knight paused, lips falling into a tight line for just a moment. “You look troubled. Is something the matter with the Silver Tree?”
“No.” Elder Faerie assured, and could see the way his shoulders had relaxed just half of a moment in relief, before returning to formation. “But if you do not mind taking a break from the celebrations this morning, I would want for you and at least three other Knights to survey the forest outside of the Kingdom. As soon as you may be available.”
Mercurial Knight nodded- not questioning why, which was a factor about him the Guardian could appreciate, as his worries may have sounded nonsensical if he said them aloud. “Yes, Your Majesty. We will begin immediately.”
Elder Faerie gave a brisk nod, returning thanks to him, and he watched as the knight sped off, silent as an owl.
He did not attend the celebrations that day. Perhaps it may have affected the looks on the faces of the Cookies in the Kingdom, he couldn’t imagine that it wouldn’t to have both their savior and their king missing from their partying, but he could not focus on merriment the longer that time went on without hearing that voice he had seen off last night.
His mind swirled with possibilities; it wasn’t impossible that finding the truth had simply been too much for her, and she had returned to her home continent as soon as possible, seeking comfort in the arms of her fellow Ancient Heroes, and yet the thought made his chest ache.
“I will always carry this feeling with me… For it is my weapon to guard the world alongside you, Your Majesty…”
White Lily Cookie had promised her return after the Banquet, and with the passion she had pursued her goals, Elder Faerie Cookie could not fathom the idea of the wielder of Freedom failing to uphold her promise.
“White Lily Cookie…”
He had found himself murmuring her name under his breath the longer that time passed- as one day stretched into many, becoming weeks, having drifted into the room she had been meant to stay within time and time again, as if some part of his very soul had become attuned to the want of her presence and the scent of flowers that followed her. She had packed up everything- as though she had known, even before his warnings, that she may never come back. His hand traced over the windowsill in the room, peering outside of it, only wishing he could have understood what had gone on in her mind the night she decided that to risk it all for the rest of Cookiekind was her life’s purpose.
“Wherever you may be now, please…Let your heart and love for all of Cookiekind never waver.”
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”Stay awake, _____ ____ Cookie… You mustn’t fall asleep…”
“_____ ____ Cookie! You must listen to my voice! Is this the end of the future for your world that you wished for so…?”
“It cannot end like this! Not after all you have done to come this far! You must wake up!”
Her eyes flew open- something she instantly regretted, wincing and moving an arm wrapped in green bandaging to cover her gaze as the sun’s bright rays unforgivingly pierced her sight. She winced, her head pounding as though she’d been knocked out just hours before her awakening.
As she blinked a few times, adjusting to the sunlight, her body went through the motions instinctively, propping herself up against the ground and standing up, hand reaching for…
…What was she reaching for?
She scanned the area a few times, spotting the green base of a staff sticking out of the grassy ground. Next to it-
“A Moonstone?” She approached the stone, picking it up. “It’s cracked…It must not have much use left.” Yet still, she felt compelled to pocket it all the same. With that taken care of, her attention focused on the staff, tugging on it until she managed to unearth it. It fit in her grasp like it was made for her, and it was beautifully made, if not showing a few nicks of inexperience- but it didn’t feel right. She looked at the top of the staff, baring witness to the wilted flower at the top of it, curling in on itself. It had become blackened and greyed out, weakened enough that it was impossible for her to find the name of what it had once been, even though it felt like it should have been as natural as breathing to say.
The name of the flower on her staff.
Her name.
What was her name?
Why couldn’t she remember her name?
The delayed realization was as though the heavens had struck her with lightning- mind blanking as a wave of dizziness crashed into her, her legs weakening as though disbelief may cause her to collapse right back into the ground.
Think.
Think.
My name is… I can’t remember my name. I don’t know where I am, or why I’m here. But I know this staff is mine, and that Moonstone might be too. Moonstones are Dark Moon Magic. Did something go wrong? What did I do to myself?
She drove the end of her spear down, using it as a prop to steady herself as she attempted to regulate panicked breathing.
I can’t stay here and panic. I need to find answers.
She finally took note of her surroundings. The outskirts of a gloomy, intimidating forest, a river to her right. Cautiously, she approached it, looking at her reflection.
The realization that you cannot even conjure up in your own mind what you look like was a terrifying thing.
Her eyecings were a dimmed shade of fuschia, the eyebags beneath pronouncing either exhaustion or sickliness- neither were good signs. Her hair was a striking white, but it coursed down her shoulders, untamed and uneven, dirtied by the land she had been resting on. At the very least, her clothes seemed to look as though whatever she had gone through, they had remained unaffected, still put together enough to last.
Hesitantly, she moved her arms, pulling the hood of the cloak over her head. It shadowed the weary look on her face and hid it, but she could still feel fatigue the longer she stood up, her body protesting each movement, as if they required more energy than it could take.
Yet the longer she stared at the stranger looking back at her in the river, the less she felt as though she could take this strange feeling.
There was a sense of yearning deep in her dough- of indignation, almost. A sense that this wasn’t right, and no matter how tiring this could feel, she couldn’t stand by and allow weariness to consume her. If she couldn’t remember who she was, someone would.
She’d search until she found them. Found answers for who she was, why she was here, and the purpose of that Moonstone.
I can feel it, somewhere within me.
I’m missing something.
That voice that spoke to me…who was it?
Her grip on her staff tightened, gritted volition forcing through the way that her body felt sluggish with each step, resolve pushing past the fog of uncertainty in her mind as she stepped into the forest, the question lingering in the back of her mind nonetheless.
Who am I?