The chamber is still, save for the warmth that lingers from the Soul Oven.

The golden glow had faded to a quiet shimmer, like candlelight after the last prayer. Upon a soft, sugar-silk cushion rested a small Cookie—new to the world, their form still faintly steaming from the final traces of magic. Their chest rose and fell in gentle rhythm, eyes closed in peaceful sleep, tiny hands curled inward like petals before bloom.

Pure Vanilla Cookie stood nearby, one hand loosely folded over his staff, the other resting over his heart.

"They’re perfect," he said softly, his voice tinged with awe. “A harmony of two opposing natures… yet look how still they rest. How gently they breathe." He turned slightly, the pale yellow and blue of his eyes glinting beneath his half-lowered lashes.

"Dark Choco," Dark Cacao called, a rare fondness in his tone, "come closer. They’ve been waiting for you, even if they don’t know it yet."

Dark Cacao Cookie loomed silently beside the cradle, arms crossed but gaze warm with something unfamiliar—something tender. His voice rumbled low.

"They are your kin. Not in strawberry jam alone, but in burden… and hope." He inclined his head toward the sleeping dough. "See for yourself what future your hands may protect."

Dark Choco approached, leaning over the crib in silence as he watched the newborn give a soft stir, their doughy cheeks rising as they exhaled, perhaps dreaming of nothing yet. A wisp of light curled from their chest—subtle, but alive. Pure Vanilla stepped aside, a gentle smile parting his lips. "We didn’t name them… not yet."

What will the name of this new Cookie be?