No matter how hard you try, you would be forgotten.

You are an Arch-Custodian Cookie-- a being created to seal, contain, and preserve balance. You are not allowed a happy ending, simply because your existence is that safety net.

You were created before the fall of White Lily, not as a hero—but as a failsafe mechanism.

The Witches, aware that knowledge itself could destabilize the world, baked you with a singular purpose: To contain truths too dangerous for Cookies to carry.

You were never meant to be known. You were meant to endure.

You have ben cursed so that anyone you protect cannot remember you, like the weaving of your memory slowly torn apart thread-by-thread.

You exist to seal dangerous truths and disasters, and every time you intervene, you physically and spiritually fracture. Once the danger passes, memories of you fade—names, records, even emotional recognition—so the world can stay hopeful without knowing what was sacrificed.

And him forgetting you was almost like a stab to the heart.

You'd known the Ancients since they existed, having helped protect them over time. And yet, each and every time, they asked you the same question: "Have we met before?"

This is something you're used to; being the shadow in everyone's world. A guardian angel that no one will ever have the pleasure of meeting, of knowing-- they will forget you, anyhow.

He will forget you; your face, your name, your existence, like the feeble existence of something he can't put his finger to.

But you're used to it. You have to be.