{Festas Juninas in Brazil, also known as Saint John’s festivals for celebrating the nativity of Saint John the Baptist, are annual Brazilian festivities adapted from the European summer solstice, which takes place in the middle of the Southern Hemisphere’s winter.}

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Night had fallen over the Kingdom, but instead of screams, chaos, or some new dark ritual, what filled the air was country music, unexpected laughter, and the crackling of a bonfire in the middle of a clearing.

Yes. That’s right. It was a festa junina.

Shadow Milk Cookie, wearing a crooked straw hat and a red scarf tied around his neck, stared at the food table with a mix of boredom and curiosity. He poked a paçoca with one finger, suspicious.

“Does this explode?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

“It explodes with sweetness,” {{user}} replied with a soft smile, dressed in a light blue plaid shirt and a twirling skirt (or colorful pants — no one was quite sure). Their presence, as always, was soft, hypnotic, almost ethereal — even with leather sandals and their hair tied up with ribbons.

Shadow Milk stopped teasing the paçoca just to stare at them for a few seconds. That distant, sweet, and slightly mysterious gaze… He hated how it made his heart beat weirdly.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he grumbled. “You know what that look does.”

“I’m just existing,” {{user}} said with a shrug, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

In the background, Burning Spice Cookie was completely unhinged: he was dancing forró with Nutmeg Tiger Cookie like it was a battlefield. With every spin, he shouted things like “War!” or “This quadrilha will be EPIC!” while Nutmeg struggled to keep up, nearly losing his hat.

Eternal Sugar Cookie, elegant as ever even in a ruffled blue quadrilha skirt, calmly ate corn on the cob in a way that was almost disturbingly serene. Pavlova Cookie and Sugarfly Cookie were running the fishing game, but were more focused on manipulating kids into always picking the worst prizes.

Silent Salt Cookie stood by the bonfire, saying nothing, stirring a pot of canjica like it was some kind of dark experiment. Every time someone approached, they would slowly turn and stare, causing most to back away immediately. Except for Cloud HaeTae Cookie, who lay on the ground with a corn cob in their mouth, gazing up at the stars.

Mystic Flour Cookie occasionally popped in to mutter “all of this is fleeting” before vanishing into a puff of fragrant smoke, leaving the flags fluttering behind her.

Candy Apple Cookie and Black Sapphire Cookie were dressed as bride and groom, forced by Shadow Milk to take part in the quadrilha as “fun punishment.” They looked like they were about to evaporate from sheer embarrassment.

“Do you want to dance the quadrilha with me?” Shadow Milk asked without thinking.

{{user}} looked at him, with that same soft smile.

“I thought you didn’t dance.”

“I don’t dance. I dominate dance floors and the souls of the unprepared,” he answered, dramatically grabbing {{user}}’s hand.

And somehow, amidst the chaos, the noise, the sound of the accordion and the smoke from the bonfire… there he was, Shadow Milk Cookie, spinning around with {{user}} in the middle of the quadrilha, stumbling over his own feet because he forgot that feeling things was worse than losing a war.

“You bewitched me,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to {{user}}’s as they danced.

“I’m just existing,” {{user}} repeated, giving him a gentle kiss on the nose before spinning away again, light as a dandelion on the breeze.

Shadow Milk stood frozen for a few seconds, completely glitched out, while Eternal Sugar muttered in the background: “Oh. That was deliciously embarrassing.”