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(dear burning spice,
i can only offer you my sincerest apologies! i know you’d just be itching to do the honors yourself. it’s not every day one of the five great cookies finally falls. then again, i suppose it’d do you little entertainment to crumble a cookie that won’t fight back.)
really, really, really, it’d be an honor to end deceit forever. staring at a white canvas - but it was never his job to paint; rather, he taught and explained and unwound the beautiful labyrinth of reality to show it to all cookies across the continent. there was naturally no room for a colorful version of the truth, he was anti-art and had to destroy lies. even now he was just standing in the center of an abyss watching himself betray sanity. trapped inside the river of yogurt. reverse metamorphosis.
(did you know i considered leaving the stage without a farewell? i was too convinced you might destroy the paper before reading, ha!
really, of all my colleagues, you were, dare i say, special. an extremely marvelous explosion to spectate. remember when you had something to protect?
oh, i mean it, you always delivered the spiciest drama, no matter which unfortunate costars were cast. you did whatever you wanted in a selfish mission to satiate your crave of an ending, you blazed a path of thorns in the middle of an empty expense searching for fulfillment. in a way, it sickens me!
here’s to destruction,
shado— )
the world inside the glass was spinning up and down past the lens of his eyes. the fount of knowledge didn't have a body and wasn't any cookie in particular, he only existed in this space beneath the waves, but that didn't stop the letters from gathering before him. it wasn't just a scroll he was used to unfurling, but cut with an envelope and all. cursive danced in blue ribbon to form each sentence, etched with a calm hand and yet screaming in silence.
(dear eternal sugar,
oh, how tragic, how regretful, i must say! my darling, how could you shun me from happiness with such cruelty. the last time we met, i’m sure you will notice, has shattered my heart beyond repair! your cold demeanor ruined any chance of a hopeful future in my eyes. what would i do without the essential relief offered by your garden, and your garden only? do you not feel now that you will have been, in part, responsible for my end?)
the fount of knowledge was perfection itself, and didn't make mistakes. but why did he read it, then, he wondered? the papers fluttered as a disgusting butterfly on the surface of the prison in which he slept eternally.
his retired role served no purpose any longer, his mind rotted away beneath the ground. death, as much as a virtue could wish, and he lived as an old art piece, a mistake. could blink and think, but was only smart enough to realize his idiocy.
no. really, why did..that..cookie write this in the first place?
(how beautiful deceit is, that’s well known by you, of course. the sweetest lies are much preferable to the bitter truth. this responsibility i’ve placed on you.. will it drive you further towards the comfort of sloth?
thinking, worrying about such things, it is all so unnecessary, is it not? the greatest happiness is found by letting go, didn’t you say? but it is just a little upsetting, will you grace my grave with a single tear to honor my wish?
this is a fun conundrum; you must pick between your old friend and the happiness you’ve built all this time. could it be that it was wrong?
here’s to sloth,
shadow—)
eternal sugar never stood a chance of saving him from the empty fortune that had been baked into his dough. he was a ghost, a ghost, a ghost, a ghost, a ghost, he couldn't possibly be more real than the witches loved their creations. the fount of knowledge knew more than ever that he loved deceit; his first lie had always been to himself, but the river flowing around him was a constant correction of this flaw because he couldn't allow mistakes.
knowledge, truth.. they were indispensable. yet he found himself wishing he could believe that eternal sugar would even consider the proposition for a single second. the fount of knowledge was arrogant and hated lies and sloth.
his creator, shadow milk, was trying to envision the impossible scenario in which the contradictory events could coexist and eternal sugar wouldn't need to choose because both options were the same.
(dear mystic flour,
this is all meaningless, wouldn’t you agree? the witches, the cookies, you, me, and this letter, though if you’re reading past the first sentence i might as well finish what i am to say. i can’t help but think of the flour of volition i once knew.
oh, it is a miserable fate, ours, but in my final hour, would you break your hard rules to allow a drop of gratitude for all i’ve done? deceit is the best lens to view reality—it was i who stirred those infamous rumors—yet not even a thank you, i must say it reflects quite poorly on you! i only helped you reach true enlightenment.
but you don’t care, do you? ah, this question exists also with no purpose.
here’s to apathy,
shadow m—)
abandon truth, love, and peace, descend into an impossible depth and exhale to seal everything away. close your eyes to the truth in order to see reality. sacrifice knowledge for strength.
the fount couldn't remember since when those were the maxims shadow milk lived by.
(dear silent salt,
dear white lily,
is this the time for rejoice? celebration? you can’t really believe i didn’t know your true self, my heroic knight, can you? at the very least, dedicate me twelve months of mourning festivities rather than a mere six!
here’s to silence,
shadow mi—)
the enemy was always within you, so it made sense to assume there'd be at least one among the five. yet a thought like that was a shot into a vast field; is it the best to choose reality by basing every vision on a prerecorded pattern and purposefully blindfolding oneself?
the mind is not capable of comprehending what is before it, at least not anymore.
(dear p*** v******,
it's evident this letter has reached you? but why? this can be a fun guessing game if you haven't heard the news yet!
oh, well, it has to be broken at some point. me, the greatest playwrite in all of earthbread, the most conniving, heartless, lying beast of them all.. is no more!
or am i really? see, that's a game of it's own. no matter what other people say, are you really going to believe it? no, no, vanilly, i know you all too well for that! why don't you come see for yourself~?
and, before you say anything, no, the death of deceit does not mean i've surrendered in our little battle. if anything, the light of truth will go out without any shadows to illuminate. a grayscale picture i've always wanted to illustrate! yes, fact and fiction really will be one and the same!
here's to deceit,
shadow mil—)
stained with distaste, the fount of knowledge sensed the emotions required for logic were twisted into it's opposite, while laying out the clearest argument possible to prove his point. the final opportunity for a joke he could spin, but the effort had dried up. why criticize your own side?
the last letter held perhaps the only remorse he could see. along with it came the face he recognized only in the dark mirror of the air.
(dear black sapphire,
dear candy apple,
i'm sorry.)
"shadow milk.." the fount of knowledge could only speak from the oblivion in which his real counterpart gazed. "really, why did you write this?"
laughter, then he tried to catch his breath, but laughed again. "ca-can't i have a little fun? just imagining the great, powerful beasts or those audacious half-cookies reading that is oh-so..-"
the fount of knowledge only frowned in response, and so the cookie on the other side of the yogurt river didn't care to finish what he was saying. shadow milk shifted his excitement from the meaningless papers to his counterpart. he tensed at being the focus for once.
shadow milk loved it. "as i thought; it is quite fun! the abyss stares back!"
"but..don't you realize there's no one here..?"
shadow milk faltered for a brief moment, the kind of change in expression only he himself would be able to notice.
the ripples of the river settled in an instant, revealing how the innocent lies were not his true reflection. shadow milk's own face was morphing between a smile and the pained gaze of the fount of knowledge.
but only one of those could ever be on the outside of the river. he really was alone.
ah, (i have no words for you, i crumbled you long ago), he said, i suppose even i will be blinded by reality. our encounter must exist in moderation ~