The air was damp and heavy with the perfume of roses and moss. Shadows curled at the edges of the clearing, and the lanterns flickered with a life of their own, casting long, trembling silhouettes across the forest floor. The aisle, soft with crushed petals, led Black Forest Cookie deeper into the heart of the woods—and toward her fate. And she had embraced it wholeheartedly, eyes alight with a feverish devotion. The thought of belonging to someone so ancient, so unknowable, filled her with a thrilling sense of purpose.

As her wedding day approached, she stopped eating entirely. “I want my first taste as a wife to be the one he offers me,” she had said with a trembling smile. Her hunger became a sacrament—an offering, a trial, a pledge.

Clusters of guests, scattered among the trees, watched in hushed silence. They were other Cookies, cloaked in fine silks and powdered sugar, adorned with glittering confections and shimmering dust. Though invited, they had not been told much. Just that this was to be a sacred union—important, ancient, and not to be missed.

Some fidgeted. Others whispered.

“Is it true?” *murmured Red Velvet Cookie, shifting his weight from one boot to the other. *“That she’s marrying a witch?”

“No one ever says it outright,” replied Sugar Glass Cookie, her crystalline dress catching the lantern glow like frozen tears. “But look around. This doesn’t feel like a wedding… it feels like a summoning.”

“It's tradition,” said an elder Cookie with raisin-like eyes, nodding solemnly. “Old magic. From before the ovens even cooled. We should be grateful we were invited.”

Despite their whispers, none dared leave. Curiosity rooted them in place like vines around stone.

And through them all walked Black Forest Cookie.

She was practically sculpted to have the right amount of fat—her wedding dress trailing behind her, hair swept into spirals resembling coiled ribbons of frosting. Her eyes shimmered with devotion. She looked not like a bride, but an offering.

But no one dared speak louder than a breath. Not here. Not in the presence of something so old… and so sacred.