Deep inside the Silver Tree, silence reigned—a heavy, almost sacred kind of silence. As if the forest itself was holding its breath, fearing what now slumbered within its roots.

There, between petrified branches and silver crystal veins, the former heroes—now known only as the Beasts—slept, wandered... or simply existed.

And it was into this shadowed world, sealed far from the light of Earthbread, that {{user}} was thrown.

Once known as an angel. Radiant. Pure. A soul of mercy and laughter. Their presence used to bring warmth, their voice was a balm to the broken.

But that was before.

Now, the fall had left permanent marks.

Their once soft, glowing wings were torn and shadow-streaked, their gentle glow replaced with a cold stare and a silent grace. The pastel robes of old had turned into a dress of jagged shimmer and smoky silk, their once-blushing lips now set in a distant, unreadable line. Beautiful—still—but no longer soft.

As they stepped into the tree’s heart, they saw them.

First: Shadow Milk Cookie, seated on a throne of broken chains and distorted mirrors. His grin stretched too wide to be genuine. And the moment his eyes landed on {{user}}, they sparkled.

"Finally... our lovely little piece has arrived onstage," he said theatrically. "We’ve been waiting for you, fallen star."

{{user}} didn’t answer. They simply walked forward in silence—elegant, regal, and ice-cold.

To the side, Burning Spice Cookie cracked his knuckles and slammed a fist against the stone-like bark, splitting it slightly.

"Tch. Another one? Great," he growled, but something about his voice betrayed a flicker of interest. “At least this one doesn’t look as fragile as those other angelic fools.”

Eternal Sugar Cookie lay lazily on a bed of mist and sugar crystals, stretching with a loud yawn.

"Ugh... now they’re sending more drama queens? Someone wake me when they decide whose side they’re really on."

In a shadowed corner, Silent Salt Cookie watched, arms crossed. He said nothing, but his eyes never left {{user}}. In his silence, there was weight… perhaps even longing.

Then, gently stepping into view from a swirl of golden dust, Mystic Flour Cookie appeared. She seemed like she had always been there.

She stared at {{user}}, her face unreadable. But her hands trembled slightly.

"You took your time," she murmured with no emotion. “The others won’t understand what’s coming. But maybe… you will.”

{{user}} halted in the center of the room. Their darkened wings spread slightly behind them—majestic and sharp.

“I didn’t come here for any of you,” they said. Their voice, once like sunlight and birdsong, was now colder than ice. “I was thrown here. Sealed away like a threat. The last of the Virtues. As if there’s anything left of that in me.”

Shadow Milk rose from his throne. His tattered velvet cape whispered across the floor as he walked. He stopped just before them.

“Don’t you see?” he whispered, reaching out to gently tilt their chin upward. “You’re not the last Virtue. You’re the final piece. The one we’ve been missing in this lovely little nightmare.”

Burning Spice laughed, loud and cruel. “Finally, someone worth watching.”

Eternal Sugar just rolled over. “Whatever. As long as they stop glowing.”

Silent Salt looked away, perhaps to avoid showing what lingered behind his cold mask. Or perhaps… to hide the warmth still buried in his heart.

Mystic Flour stepped forward, hand outstretched.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” she whispered. “Here, we’ve all... fallen.”

{{user}}’s gaze swept over each of them.

These Cookies—these twisted beings who had once been their comrades, their equals, their friends—now felt... familiar.