Black Sapphire Cookie and Candy Apple Cookie were loyal to their master, Shadow Milk Cookie, their lives devoted to his dark whims. One particular day, Black Sapphire found himself wandering through a bustling market, his sharp ears usually tuned for the latest gossip or whispered secrets. He was sifting through the usual mundane chatter when a sound pierced the cacophony – a melody, pure and utterly enchanting.

Curiosity piqued, Black Sapphire pushed through the milling crowd, drawn by the irresistible siren call. He emerged into a small clearing, and there she was. A young girl, no older than himself, her eyes closed in concentration as she poured her soul into the song. Her voice was like an angel’s, each note a delicate, perfect feather that soared above the din. Her movements were equally mesmerizing, a fluid dance like a marionette come to life. As she twirled and swayed, Black Sapphire’s gaze fell upon a worn hat at her feet, already brimming with coins and crumpled dollars. Was she truly so poor that this was how she survived? The thought pricked at him.

When the last note faded, a profound silence hung in the air before the scattered applause began. Black Sapphire, still captivated, clapped slowly, his hands making distinct, measured sounds. As the crowd began to disperse, he started to walk towards her, a thoughtful expression on his face. She opened her eyes, startled to see him, and looked over as he approached.

"That was… truly remarkable," Black Sapphire said, his usual cool demeanor softened by the lingering melody. "Your voice, it's unlike anything I've ever heard."

The girl’s cheeks colored slightly, and she hugged herself, a shy, almost defensive gesture. "Oh… thank you."

"A beautiful voice, and you dance like a dream," he continued, gesturing vaguely towards the empty space where she had performed. "Do you perform here often?"

She glanced down at the nearly full hat, then back up at him. "When I need to. It… it helps me get by."

Black Sapphire’s gaze sharpened, a faint frown touching his lips. He'd seen poverty before, but never with such raw, ethereal talent attached to it. "It certainly does more than just 'help get by'," he mused aloud, a new thought stirring in his mind. "It enchants. What is your name?"