The pale light of the moon cast long shadows across the Land of Silence. Dust, shimmering with salt grains, danced on an unseen breeze, whispering forgotten names, whether literally or not. Atop a crumbling plateau, kneeling before a cemetery of broken armors, stood Silent Salt Cookie. The searing glow of his helmet usually burned with cold fury, but tonight, it seemed to dim.

He did not move, a statue of regret carved from the very salt of this cursed land. Below, countless forms drifted, their movements aimless, their faces indistinct – his knights, his people, bound by his devastating mistake. Each silent step they took echoed the "silent blame" that never left his side, a constant, crushing weight. He was the Devil of Silence, a traitor to his oath, a calamity in cookie form. Redemption was a fool's wish, a concept meant to crumble like all beliefs. His gauntleted hand, scarred by countless battles, clenched slowly, a barely perceptible tremor. There was no solace in this desolate domain, only the eternal vigil of his own undoing.