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Chapter Text

Of all the things Pure Vanilla thought he might do in the Spire…might have to do to fully convince Shadow Milk he was on his side…

Well, he did not think snapping his fingers to turn his three friends into tarot cards would be one of them. It likely wasn't even necessary. He knew one of Shadow Milk's minions would be by to recapture them soon anyway. But he just couldn't take it anymore. All that talk about how Pure Vanilla wasn't a liar, how they believed in him, how they trusted him…

It’s Truthless Recluse now, he chastised himself. Why can’t I remember that?

His head had been throbbing ever since he'd resurfaced from the Yogurt River. The old self he was trying so hard to conceal just wouldn't keep quiet and stay hidden. He was supposed to be able to endure it all. Shadow Milk's games, his taunting, his tortures…everything in service of getting the Beast to drop his guard. It would only take a moment…one single moment of the Light of Truth becoming corrupted enough to take control of the Other Realm. Then he could bring it all down. 

But there was a fatal flaw in his plan. And it had been gnawing at him ever since the chess game. He could tell when I was lying.

He sat down on the bed, the three cookies-turned-tarot-cards in his hand. They'd still tried to speak to him, forcing him to silence their voices. Each brutal step forward in his plan felt like he was wading deeper into the mire of Deceit. But how else could he be convincing enough?

There was a harsh rap at the door. "Open up! Where are they? Master Shadow Milk Cookie wants your little friends!"

How polite of the rumormonger, waiting for Truthless to actually invite him in. With the three silent cards in hand, he stood, crossed the room, and opened the door. 

"They're here," he said simply, showing Black Sapphire his quarry while keeping all three out of grabbing range. 

"W-well, well, well!" Black Sapphire stammered, clearly as shocked with Truthless Recluse's actions as the cookie himself was. "As much as I want to have my revenge, Master Shadow Milk Cookie ordered me to bring them alive."

Truthless Recluse pulled the cards farther back. "No. I will hand these to Shadow Milk personally. I need to talk with him in private."

"Excuse me? In case you've forgotten, you're the prisoner here."

"They are the prisoners," Truthless corrected as he tucked the cards into his pocket. "I am a guest. It is certainly within my host's rights to refuse me, but he said himself I am not his servant. Unlike you."

Black Sapphire growled in frustration. But he also had no counterarguments. 

Truthless found himself smiling at this smidgen of power he'd found in an otherwise helpless situation. "Do not fall under the illusion that you hold any authority over me. Tell him I'm requesting an audience and bring me his reply. You can handle that, yes?"

"And…how do I know you won't restore your little friends in the meantime and help them escape?" Black Sapphire asked, his voice a touch off-pitch as he scrambled for a way to not return to his master empty-handed. 

"That seems an odd course of action when I transformed them to begin with. But if you need reassurance..." Truthless stepped over to a small cupboard in the corner of the room, conveniently with a key already in the lock. He pulled the door open and placed the three cards on the upper shelf. Then, with no further explanation, he locked it and walked the key back to Black Sapphire. The cookie immediately tucked it into his breast pocket, fangs bared in frustration. Nevertheless he flew off as asked.

#

Less than ten minutes later, Shadow Milk materialized out of a portal. As if Truthless Recluse needed any additional reminders about who held all the power here. Seeing the Beast enter disrupted his mind's tenuous balance as well. The part of him tainted by the river wanted to leap up, rip open the cupboard, and tear the tarot cards in half to prove his loyalty. Another part wanted to tear Shadow Milk himself apart for turning him into...

The wave of manic energy ebbed from his body.

He didn't even know who "Truthless Recluse" was supposed to be.

He only knew that when he'd fallen from that tower, he'd lost who he once was. The name came as an attempt to ease the raging battle in his mind--the one that screamed how Pure Vanilla Cookie wouldn't think like this...wouldn't act like this.

But as for how Truthless Recluse should think and act? There he remained ignorant. Well, for now, at any rate. If his offer was accepted, he had no doubt Shadow Milk would help clear the matter up.

"Did you order my minion around?" Shadow Milk asked, his tone perfectly balanced between annoyance and admiration. 

"You toyed with my friends. It seemed a fair exchange. But that's not what I wanted to talk about."

Shadow Milk nodded, apparently finding this a valid argument and motioned for Truthless Recluse to continue. His posture read of boredom--sprawled out in midair with his staff dangling haphazardly in his loose grip. But his face read of eager curiosity.

Truthless massaged his forehead, more out of habit now than anything else. "The chess game," he said simply. "When the pieces only moved if I spoke the truth…"

"Oh? You looking for a rematch?" Shadow Milk asked. "I love the idea, but I've got so many other games planned. I dunno if our playing pieces will still be intact afterwards."

"How could you tell?" Truthless Recluse said, ignoring the interruption. "If I spoke the truth, I mean?" 

"How could I tell? Because I can read you like a book, Vanilly. You aren't that complicated." When Truthless raised an eyebrow, Shadow Milk rolled onto his back and spoke to the ceiling. "Fine, fine. You did catch me by surprise with your stunt at the end. It was very impressive. Applause, applause, and all that jazz."

"So whether my pieces moved was based on your best guesses? Or did you know for a fact when I was lying?"

Shadow Milk spent an awkward amount of time ceiling-staring before he replied, "You know what's so, so entertaining here? It's how you think I'll answer you honestly."

"I'd prefer a dishonest answer over none. Then I could at least put it to the test."

"You test me? Oh, that sounds delightful!" He floated up into a seated position and rested his hand on his knees, almost like he was modeling his pose after the plushie on the nightstand. "Alrighty, then. Yes, Vanilly. As the cookie of Deceit at home in my Spire of Deceit, I can, in fact, sense when you say something deceitful."

As Truthless Recluse expected he would reply. Time for the test to begin, then. Without preamble, he stated, "I no longer care what happens to my friends."

"Lie. Though you wish it were true, which I find both intriguing and adorable."

Truthless Recluse nodded and continued, "My name is Pure Vanilla Cookie."

"Factually true on paper, but in your mind, another lie."

The Soul Jam quivered. Nothing he needed to point out. They could both sense it, after all. His head swelled with pain once again...half of it telling him to disengage, the other half telling him to continue. He knew what his last question had to be. Something Shadow Milk couldn't get by guessing or even knowing his past experiences. Something hidden about those experiences. "I remember every patient I ever failed."

Shadow Milk lay on his stomach and floated right up to Truthless Recluse's face, their cheeks brushing as he whispered in his ear, "Lie. And it kills you."

Truthless Recluse went still for a moment as Shadow Milk pulled back away from him. Then the headache flared into an intolerable blaze. His stomach churned. The lights felt far too bright. And yet through it all, he laughed. His crazed hysterical shrieks filled the room as tears welled in his eyes. His plan was broken from the start. The biggest lie in all of this was his belief he could somehow make it work. And yet the Soul Jam still hummed and vibrated, still stubbornly refused to corrupt in full. Why?

"Hey, now, Vanilly!" Shadow Milk said. "This is your second bout of maniacal laughter without letting me in on the joke first. Humor's no fun if it's all your head."

"The joke?" Truthless Recluse said once he got enough control of himself. He squeezed his eyes shut against the too-bright lights and stumbled back to sit on the bed. "The joke is me! The joke is my entire plan! Trick the Cookie of Deceit himself? In what world did I think that could possibly work?" He gritted his teeth. "And why is my Soul Jam so stubbornly loud?"

"Ah. You noticed that as well?" Shadow Milk asked, making no comment whatsoever on his counterpart's obvious pain. "And here I thought you were too dense to pick up on it. But congrats on your first truth in this conversation. I'd love all the juicy details on that plan of yours." He leaned his elbows on absolutely nothing and rested his chin on his interlaced fingers. 

Truthless Recluse could feel himself bordering on hysteria once again. The Spire's influence? His own Soul Jam fighting him? He supposed, at this point, it didn't matter which. "Oh, I'm sure you would. You do love good entertainment. Very well. I knew you've lived a solitary life. I took a guess you'd want companionship. That you'd much prefer me wielding my Soul Jam for your purposes than you wielding it yourself."

"I neither confirm nor deny that. So your plan was to offer friendship?"

"More than that. My plan was to offer partnership. Let my Soul Jam corrupt enough to convince you I was yours. Fall deep enough into Deceit that you'd permit my power to access your Other Realm."

Shadow Milk dropped his arms. His eyes widened. He did not laugh, but as far as Truthless could tell, it would only because he'd been too struck with shock. "And another truth? No way! You honestly thought you'd snatch my Spire, my realm, my WORLD out from under me? You believed you could pull off that kind of betrayal?" He clutched at his stomach and curled into a ball, turning over and kicking his feet as he fell into a giggling fit. "Don't answer! I know it's not a lie, but--oh, my! I don't think I've ever been so entertained by a truth in my life! And lemme tell you, buddy, I've lived a long time!"

"I'm glad I gave you a laugh," Truthless Recluse said weakly. "Now... perhaps you will return the kindness?"

"Oh?"

Truthless Recluse lowered his head, dizziness threatening to topple him. "The Yogurt River didn't fully work. Part of my Soul Jam, part of me is still clinging to Truth. And it's tearing my mind apart."

For as much as Truthless expected the reply to this to be another chuckle or snarky remark, it was neither. Shadow Milk stood upright, floating just barely above the floor, giving Truthless Recluse his full, intrigued attention. 

"I think you know this feeling--the contradictions in your mind when the Fount was losing himself, no longer sure what his heart desired. I can't stand this war in my head anymore. So I'm begging you. If my current situation is hopeless, give me a different solution. Help me quell this stubborn flicker of Truth in earnest." He forced himself to smile. Whatever lay at the end of this path he was stepping onto, at least he'd no longer be tortured at the fork. "Help me embrace Deceit."

#

Elsewhere in the world, a small boat with two passengers made its way down a river. The waters were lifeless, as were the caverns of this cave its passengers traversed. Dark rivulets ran down the sides of stalactites, dripping into water too cold to remain a liquid. And yet the boat traveled on--one cookie rowing while the other sat at the bow. She used to dress in such verdant colors, this cookie. Yet these days, it was only black.

The rower dipped in his oar, pushing water aside to propel them ahead. Then he addressed his passenger with little volume or emotion: "You surrendered so quickly. May I ask why?"

The cookie's dough, now gray and lifeless as stale flour, shifted slightly as she turned to reply: "Because someone important to me is falling. And I trust no one to mourn him properly but myself."

The rower said nothing. He understood her and she knew as much, therefore no words needed to be exchanged.

"Take me to the Spire," she said. "I wish to remember the spirits trapped there."

The rower nodded as he methodically lifted his oar, dipped it from the opposite side, and pushed forward once again. "So be it." 

Chapter Text

The staff wasn't working correctly.

It was something Truthless had noticed from the moment he came out of the river. Being yanked around from one bizarre location to another, he'd wondered at first if the sudden shifts in his vision were due to Shadow Milk simply messing around with him. Perhaps the actual problem should have been more obvious in hindsight, but the staff had always been such a reliable tool since the moment he crafted it as a student. It had never faltered.

Unlike him.

The trouble was when the staff's magic flickered, it not only changed how far he could see but the angle he was seeing it from. Too many shifts back and forth and not only was he fighting the blazing headache, he felt like a bunch of children had been batting him through the air like a beach ball. So it was a decided relief when he rested the sight spell and stopped trying to force the staff to work anyway.

Perhaps, if he let the optimistic part of his mind have some say, it actually was a good sign. The staff ran on Truth magic, after all. If its source was growing weak enough that it was struggling to handle its most basic spell, that meant Truth itself could be closer to leaving him in peace like he wanted. And he wouldn't say no to being able to stare off into the corner and give Shadow Milk the false impression he was actually looking at him while he spoke.

Unless that was a lie the jester could also detect. He sincerely hoped not.

The trouble with trying to visually ignore Shadow Milk was that the Beast loved to constantly move around in mid-air, drawing Truthless Recluse's gaze half the time despite his best efforts. Now, for example, he made a show of throwing his hands behind his back as he tiptoed a few steps closer.

"Well, well, someone's deep in thought," Shadow Milk teased.

Truthless made no reply.

"Ah. And trying to limit his answers in the hope I won't catch him in another embarrassing lie." Shadow Milk chuckled at the idea. "Fair enough, fair enough. And I suppose I do owe you an answer on that little offer of yours. But before we get to that, I'm curious to know the name of the cookie I'm speaking with."

Pure Vanilla Cookie, Truthless thought instinctively, even while his tainted Soul Jam flared with objections. Maybe it would rage less if the great liar said it? Truthless turned his head more obviously towards the corner. "You know my--"

"I sensed a lie when you told me your old name. You didn't enlighten me with the new one."

He sighed in frustration. "Truthless Recluse," he said. Despite being so much smaller and weaker, the remaining Truth in his Soul Jam continued to pitch a fit.

"Oh." Shadow Milk frowned. "You never were the creative type, were you?"

Creative? Of all the things he has to mock me about right now, it's my lack of creativity? His head swam a bit less with the momentary distraction. "I was admittedly in a bit of a crisis when I selected it."

"I'm not sure why you thought picking a new name was a good idea to begin with. I mean, really! Think through the logic here. You're confronted with the fact that your beliefs are useless, try to fix the problem by creating an entirely new persona, and then you're confused when it and your old self invariably fight with each other?"

"Forgive me if I haven't been in a situation like this before. It's not every day one gets their values and creed smashed so thoroughly and so quickly." He was doing quite a good job of keeping his gaze on the corner, mostly at the cupboard where he'd stashed the tarot cards, but Shadow Milk suddenly fell backwards into a reclining position, not only drawing his attention, but also making him startle a bit. Any normal cookie would've been in danger of cracking their head on the floor with a movement like that.

"Ugh, I forget how young you are," Shadow Milk said with disgust. "I've had my values and creeds insta-smashed at least twice now. But we're getting off track, aren't we? I never gave you my answer." Truthless winced as the jester cracked his knuckles. Loudly. "First off, you should know that the other Beasts will eviscerate me if I say yes."

"Sorry to hear that. Have they not tried to convert their counterparts before?"

"Oh, they've tried. Failed but tried. And I stood over them, mocking without mercy, proclaiming they were absolute fools--and frankly traitors--for trying it."

"I see."

"I also said I would be crumbled before I ever considered a partnership with you."

Truthless turned his head in Shadow Milk's direction. A bit more of a show of listening to him. He also considered that Shadow Milk might be putting on a show himself. Nothing could be a simple yes or no answer with this cookie. If he had no obvious obstacle to complicate a situation, he'd either exaggerate some non-issue or make it up entirely. I wonder...will I eventually be able to detect his lies like he can detect mine? "If you did give them such a hard time, I agree you'd have to answer for it now."

Shadow Milk tilted his head to an unnatural angle, curiosity flaring in his eyes. "Interesting. You seem...suddenly more engaged in this discussion."

"Well, talking about Beasts is better than talking about myself."

"Aw! I'm a step above mental turmoil? I'm touched."

Pure Vanilla did not have terribly much experience with sarcasm and decided the best approach would be to simply ignore it. "I apologize if I've ever led you to believe otherwise. But as to your concern that your fellow Beasts would scorn or mock you, I do not think there is much risk of that."

"Oh, no?"

"If they're so used to your falsehoods, they would likely assume your wish was to partner with me all this time. That your earlier statements were just more lies." Truthless was pleasantly surprised that this statement did not cause any turmoil in his mind the way some of his others had.

Shadow Milk, however, jolted up at the suggestion. "Do not joke like that. In fact, if that's your brand of humor, don't joke around me period until you get better at it. At no point have I ever desired the company of the oh-so-perfect Pure Vanilla Cookie." He spat out the name like he was ridding his mouth of poison.

No longer me, Truthless reminded himself. "I see. And what about Truthless Recluse?"

"I'm mulling him over. How much fun he'll bring. How much annoyance."

"All important considerations, I'm sure."

"Indeed. If we were to do this, I would have to consider you my equal in this form." He shuddered at the thought. "Which I will not call Truthless Recluse, by the way. That name is ridiculous. You'll just be my little 'starlight' for now."

Once again, the unease in Truthless's mind lightened with the sheer distraction of Shadow Milk's unpredictability. "Your...um....what?"

Shadow Milk grinned. "Y'know? As in, the star of my puppet show? Don't fuss over the details. When you see what I've got planned, you'll agree it's a perfect fit. Well, assuming my solution works..." He tapped the head of the blueberry staff into his open palm. "Alrighty, enough of the suspense. You'll be glad to know it's your lucky day, Starlight. Because I've decided to take on this little apprenticeship you've proposed."

Truthless Recluse gave a weak smile. It felt like he was giving a lot of those lately. "I assume not out of kindness or mercy."

"You assume correctly."

"Then what? Because you have nothing better to occupy your time with?"

"That would be the gist of it." He glared over his shoulder, addressing an audience there that did not exist. "Cookies express disgust at Burning Spice for corrupting simply due to 'boredom.' But eternal tedium is a torture few creatures will ever understand."

He floated up behind the chandelier, tucking his legs in to conceal himself behind it. Then he peeked his head out from the side and continued, "That deep, natural craving to work towards something, to find meaning and purpose to your life...imagine if it was simply snuffed out! No act you can perform, no task within your power to undertake will restore it. What do you do next?"

"A question I'm trying to answer for myself at the moment," Truthless replied.

"Ah, but you have answered it!" Shadow Milk said. "You asked for my help! And help you I shall. But you still have a goal in mind of some kind, even if that goal is simply not to care."

"I...suppose that is my wish, yes." Truthless gripped his staff and watched the wall where the rocking chandelier cast a menagerie of dancing lights along the tiles.

He imagined each one as a cookie living out their life, going through the motions, the ups and downs their path would naturally bring. Then he closed his eyes and envisioned dozens of tiny lights swallowed by darkness. He imagined the devastation such an event would cause Healer Cookie, how he'd work himself until his body threatened to crumble, trying to save whoever he could. How the sorrow alone felt like it would crack him in two with its weight.

Then he imagined the weight was gone. And the smallest smile came unbidden to his lips.

"Of course, your comprehension of Deceit still leaves much to be desired," Shadow Milk said. "This art is far more than mere indifference to cookies' free will. But! Baby dough steps and all that. Let's just be glad you came to me and not Mystic Flour, hmm? Ugh, the absolute bore she would turn you into!"

Truthless was trying to remember roughly what Mystic Flour Cookie was even like besides the fact that she was the counterpart to Dark Cacao Cookie, when Shadow Milk interrupted his thoughts once again:

"Let's take a look at what's tying you down, my friend, and see what we can do to loosen the strings." Truthless assumed this was all metaphorical talk. It was certainly flowery enough. Then Shadow Milk snapped his clawed fingers, and two portals opened up in the floor, one beneath each of them. Truthless let out a cry and gripped his staff, bracing himself for an impact with whatever solid surface would be in the room directly below them. However, he soon found that his descent slowed as his slippered feet gently made contact with the tiled floor.

His arms still shook violently from the scare, and his grip on the staff remained tight as he stared about his surroundings.

The room was as eerie as it was beautiful. Golden strings hung from the ceiling all around them, coming down to around Truthless's waist. And each one was accented with large droplets of glowing amber sugar--Truthless could feel its smooth surface and smell its caramel-esque aroma as he batted the nearest string out of his face.

He sidestepped into a more open area, though the lighting was less than ideal in here. As best he could tell from the speckles of yellow-orange lighting around him, the golden strings were scattered throughout the room, with perhaps a cookie's length between each one.

Of course, Shadow Milk floated and moved around them like he neither noticed nor cared, his strange blue eyes also glowing in the darkness, a stark contrast to the orange lighting around them. When he came up to Truthless, he gave a small tug on the string that had gotten in his face a moment ago.

"This is a spell I haven't had much use for with the lack of visitors," Shadow Milk began. "So I sincerely hope it doesn't cause you to explode when I activate it."

"You don't 'sincerely' do anything," Truthless replied.

At this, Shadow Milk laughed and snapped his fingers. The three nearest strings suddenly gravitated in towards Truthless like a magnet, each one clinging to a section of his robe. He held the staff awkwardly in front of himself, resisting the temptation to tug on the strings. Who knew how much worse that would make his predicament?

"See, the goal of this spell is to uncover your exact 'sticking point.'" Shadow Milk chuckled at his own wordplay.

"You mean, what keeps me tied to Truth?"

"Precisely. Now, I've got my theories as to what the issue is, of course. But this will tell us with a little more precision. So hold still."

Before Truthless could object, the beads of amber sugar glowed brighter, agitating his headache and creating a sweeter smell that washed over any other scents the room might have. At the same time, he felt a pulse in his jam, a heat escaping him as some energy or information--whatever it was the amber strings sought--fed itself into the sweet, glowing beads.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the sensation eased.

"Exactly what I suspected," Shadow Milk said. Then he snapped his fingers once again and the strings released their grip.

Truthless waited for him to give a follow-up, but when none came, he asked, "You're not going to tell me?"

"Well," Shadow Milk said. "What do you think makes your mind cling to Truth?"

Mentioning his half of Knowledge made Truthless Recluse's head flare once again. The tiny amber lights all around briefly appeared to double in number. "I don't know," he mumbled. "Hope and friendship? Hope in friendship?

"Or C, both of the above," Shadow Milk sighed. "So predictable. But at least now we know how to suppress it." He twisted around with a supernatural level of flexibility, and at least from what Truthless could tell, pulled a book out of thin air and began to flip rapidly through the pages. The darkness around him retreated, but only just enough to enclose him and Truthless in a small cocoon of better lighting.

Truthless Recluse's throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. "You mean...you want to get rid of my..."

"What?! Get rid of? Do you think I'm a fool?" Shadow Milk snapped. "Nothing strengthens the bonds of friendship like another friend being in mortal danger." He turned another page and ran a pair of clawed fingers across the words with a long, drawn-out scritch. Muttered to himself the whole time, too. Not unlike how Pure Vanilla...how Truthless would read his own books. Well, minus the claws.

"No, no, no, no," Shadow Milk said. "The quickest way to sabotage myself here would be to hurt your friends. Now, obviously I can't have the little pests running around and giving you uplifting speeches about hope, either. So for now, we'll just make sure they're kept safe. Quiet, but protected. And instead we'll work on a way to slowly dampen how much you care for them."

"I see. So how do you propose doing that?"

Shadow Milk slammed the book shut and tossed it over his shoulder. A dark, inky portal opened to conveniently swallow it up. Shadow Milk floated up and out of the light cocoon. From the glow of his eyes, he came to rest in an upright standing position, hovering only a few feet above the floor. "Simple enough. I'd like to get you out of your own head for a bit. Quite literally."

"Out of my... what's that supposed to mean?" Truthless asked, despite knowing he shouldn't hope for a real answer.

And Shadow Milk delivered as expected. "Oh, it's a fantastic little spell, Starlight! I've got a few preparations to make for it first, but I know you're gonna love it." Then, with a clap of his hands, the amber strings retreated higher into the ceiling, allowing him to walk freely without worrying about any of them sticking onto him again. As the heavy caramel aroma cleared from his nostrils, the room felt fresher and more open. A new scent floated in--one he usually associated with the Vanilla gardens on days they had to clear away a dying tree. Freshly cut wood.

With the amber strings pulled away, the low light in the room grew brighter, and Truthless saw that Shadow Milk was actually standing on some kind of workbench instead of midair this time. That combined with the wood smell...was this place some kind of workshop? He could make out some kind of shelving behind Shadow Milk, but as to what was on the shelving, he had no idea. He also pondered if he wanted to know.

He took another glance around at the now-visible navy blue walls, some lined with additional shelving but others rather bare. Like the room was too big for its intended purpose and Shadow Milk had run out of ideas for what to fill it with.

Truthless sighed. Well, at least, he could tell where the door was now. How polite of the portal from earlier to drop him right in front of it.

While Truthless was looking around, Shadow Milk had already floated off the bench and was rummaging through the shelves, pulling crates out from under the bench as well. Metal tools scraped along the table's surface, while sections of wood made deep clunks when they bumped into one another.

"This'll take a bit," Shadow Milk said, his back to Truthless and his arms full. "Why don't you see yourself around the place while you're waiting? If you're making your home in my Spire, you should get to know it, at least."

"I'm not sure how well I can navigate here," Truthless said. "Especially with my staff not working correctly." He resisted the temptation to add, not to mention your obvious penchant for low lighting even in your supposed workshop.

Shadow Milk waved off his concern. "You're fine. While I'm protecting you, literally nothing here can hurt you, and I can always sense where you are. Explore to your heart's content."

And then, as if on cue, the door swung open. Truthless gave a silent nod and saw himself out. He supposed he couldn't get himself too lost in a simple hallway. And unlike the rooms he and his friends had explored before--with the twisting, interlocked staircases that led nowhere--this corridor did appear to be fairly straightforward. Pristine white pillars sectioned off the long, royal blue walls, and in each section hung yet another painting of Shadow Milk in one of his many guises.

For lack of anything else to do, Truthless walked up to the paintings like he was in an art museum, leaned in closer to give them each a proper look, then moved onto whatever was next.

Occasionally he'd find a decorative chair or couch breaking up the monotony of the paintings. He ignored them at first until a curiosity struck him. When Shadow Milk said this place couldn't hurt him...

He swung his leg forward, aiming to smack his knees against one of the chairs' thick, heavy legs. It moved aside like an invisible hand had yanked it out of the way, leaving his knee to only brush the empty air.

Oh. He meant that quite literally. The novelty of this result distracted his mind, and so he eagerly repeated it with any piece of furniture he came across. The results were quite consistent. Whenever he swung towards an obstacle, it literally slid out of its way for him. It didn't even matter if there was space for it to slide into. If it was already against the wall, it simply phased into the shadows until he passed, then returned to its normal position afterwards. If Truthless tried to kick the wall directly, his foot performed the same trick.

How convenient, he thought to himself. If I thought there was any chance of returning to the Vanilla Castle again, I'd ask him for the spell's recipe.

He was nearing the end of the corridor now and reaching a pair of tributary hallways. He paused as he debated which way to go, and in the silence, he caught the distinct sound of gushing water. Not as if there was a leak somewhere, but more like the chorus of water he'd expect to hear from a river.

Probably the Yogurt River of Rebirth, he told himself. He didn't quite remember it being down this way (or being this close, for that matter.) But he certainly couldn't imagine the logic of putting multiple rivers inside a building.

Then he recalled who had designed this building. If it defied logic and reason, that would only make Shadow Milk want to do it more.

And so Truthless Recluse made his way towards the sound of the rushing water.

Chapter Text

There was, in fact, a second river.

Truthless found it at the end of a strange corridor--not one with soft carpeting or elaborately decorated walls but a place where the floor, ceiling, and walls were carved entirely from large hunks of stone. He couldn't even say exactly when the old hallway had vanished and the new one had materialized. Once the sound of the gurgling water got loud enough for him to comfortably follow it, he felt pulled in--guided by it somehow. It was only when he nearly slipped on a puddle that he realized how much the scenery had changed. It smelled dank and earthy, and--

Wait. I almost slipped...?

The novelty of being able to attack furniture and watch it fling itself out of his path had been engaging, but he hadn't done it nearly enough to expect it as a standard experience. So it didn't strike him until he'd stood on the stone floor for several moments that if this place was fully in Shadow Milk's control, he shouldn't have slipped on anything at all.

And now that he paid more attention, his Soul Jam felt like it was itching as well. A buzz--a whisper--agitated the back of his mind.

The water called just a bit louder and he walked farther, only stopping when he heard the gasp of a painfully familiar voice.

Truthless slunk back, clinging to the shadows, with no need to confirm who the voice belonged to. Of course, she would be horrified to see him in this state. It wasn't simply his new attire. If that was all Shadow Milk had changed about him...well, she might have some opinions on the style choice, but she wouldn't be heartbroken over it. But he knew his own healing aura...the gentle sense of welcoming he gave any cookie who came into his presense. It wasn't there, replaced with a literal cloud of despair that followed after him, clinging to the very fabric of his dark blue robes. He felt the fatigue in his face that could only be all too apparent to her.

"Pure Vanilla..." she whispered. "Please tell me this isn't you." She held something forward--a staff of sorts--but in place of the verdant, steady glow of her Soul Jam, a volatile, purple flame now danced.

He stepped towards the flickering light, and a menagerie of apologetics spilled out of him--half-formed "please understand"s mismatching with all the "never meant to"s. Then he got close enough to where he should have smelled her lily scent. In fact, he should have smelled it long before getting this close. He tried to sense her usual magic, and the cloud of despair behind him swelled.

Her magic was there, but it was distorted. Wrong.

And when he finally realized how it was wrong, he found himself letting out a gasp of his own.

Her flowery perfume had been replaced with the scent of rot and salt. She had changed, too--far, far more than he had. Her dough had never been as vibrant as some others', but now it held no warmth at all--only the cold white-gray of ash.

"What happened?"

She did not ask for clarification. Instead, she looked curiously down at her own hand, turning it from side to side in the flickering light of her candle. "I am...not entirely sure myself," she said. "One moment I was battling with a cookie called Salt Cellar Cookie. Part of a ritual for testing new Kala Namak knights..."

"Kala...namak?" Truthless stumbled over the strange words. Her voice sounded so distant and hoarse...like a fading whisper. And he was afraid if he slowed her down to ask for clarification, he might lose any more chance to speak with her.

"The floor gave out from under us. She told me I did not understand Solidarity. That it is not mere self-sacrifice...it is connecting with others. I felt like I was finally understanding something vital to me...then everything went black." She closed her eyes, then briefly hummed to herself before she continued, "When I opened them again, I was standing at a funeral. I wore mourning clothes. I didn't see the cookie in the casket, but I knew they were someone familiar...someone without many friends. I don't know if it was a vision or reality..."

Her voice trailed off, and he leaned in as close as he could without being too awkward about it. He didn't want to miss a single word. Her fleeting whisper made each sound so precious and fragile.

"Silent Salt came to me and told me I had failed the test. That I was unworthy of the Light of Freedom. But that out of respect for Elder Faerie's choice of Guardian, if I offered my immediate surrender, he would offer me a second chance...train me to understand the true dedication of the silenced." She re-opened her eyes and blinked several times. "I heard the calls of the crumbled around me and felt a burn of curiosity. And for the briefest moment, I could have sworn I heard your voice among them--calling with the spirits trapped in Shadow Milk's Spire."

Truthless gave a tentative nod. "I was falling, too...from the tower, I think. I survived. I'm simply...different now."

White Lily gave a somewhat patronizing nod. "My first assignment was to listen to the spirits' voices as much as I could. So I asked to come here."

"I just explained to you that I didn't crumble," Truthless said, with perhaps a hint of defensiveness. There was a difference between changing and ceasing to exist, after all.

She gave a huff of disagreement. "Your old self did. I don't recognize this cookie standing before me at all."

"He is still me," Truthless insisted.

"If you say so."

"White Lily--" Right hand still gripping his staff, he reached out with his left and grasped her wrist. A sickening weight filled his stomach at how cold her dough was. Long crack lines ran across her hand...around her wrist...and up her arm. His own dough felt dry with a salty film where he'd touched her.

What even was she now?

As he debated how to reply to her, his Soul Jam itched once again. And he could've sworn he heard a voice calling for him. But this time, it was not the river. If anything, the voice seemed to be urging him away from the shore.

But that would also push him away from White Lily. She could not follow him. She could not go far from this place at all. He couldn't tell what clued him in to this; perhaps it was the way she lingered so close to the river's edge. Or perhaps it was how the hem of her dress dipped into the dark waters, blending fabric and liquid into one. She was trapped as surely as he was; the only difference was what kept each of them bound.

...light? ...come back...

Truthless startled and moved several paces away.

"Do you hear his voice?" White Lily asked with a sharp anger. Her dough may have been half-crumbled, but her spirit was not nearly so broken. "Do you obey him now?"

"I don't obey him," Truthless said. "He called us equals."

"A lie or a mislead," she said. "Will you really stay with him? After all he's done to you? All he will do?"

"How do you suggest I leave?" he said, his own anger rising. As if he had a choice. As if he was doing all this for mere entertainment.

Her posture relaxed, and she looked at the river behind her. "I don't think you could travel this way. Not as lively as you still are."

...back! ...right NOW!

"I-I have to go." He turned away from her and hurried up the path he'd come.

While he did not look back, he did hear her whisper tearfully, "I know. As do I. Until we meet again, then."

#

To say Shadow Milk was unhappy when Truthless returned was putting it mildly. There was no need to navigate back to the workshop or otherwise decipher where the Master of Deceit had gotten off to in this labyrinth. The moment the cold, stone walls and floor melted away, the jester immediately materialized out of a portal.

Yet another thing Truthless wouldn't mind learning how to do.

"And just where in the name of Deceit," Shadow Milk spat, "did you think you were wandering off to?"

Truthless cocked his head. "Nowhere in particular. You told me to explore. You also said nothing in the Spire could hurt me."

"It CAN'T!" Shadow Milk cried with all the charisma of a doughy toddler. "Did it not occur to your eternally oblivious self that you might have possibly left the Spire?!"

Truthless tensed, not quite appreciating this verbal attack when the supposed "master of the Spire" was the one who'd left a weak point open. "It was my assumption," he replied, "that there were no exits open to me."

Shadow Milk ran a clawed hand through his curled, white bangs. "There's not supposed to be, but unfortunately, I can't always control where the River of the Crumbled flows. That's Salty's domain, not mine. And with his whole schtick being Silence and whatnot..." He made a so-on-and-so-on gesture, as if Truthless was supposed to follow along perfectly with this. "...if he finds a spot I haven't reinforced recently, sometimes his domain can spill into mine." He turned and poked Truthless in the chest, just below the dulled Soul Jam embedded in the key design on his shawl. "You do not want to step in there, got it? You will not survive, and dying around my Spire is a highly unpleasant experience."

"I believe you," Truthless said.

"Probably one of the only times you should," Shadow Milk replied. "Now let's check on that hand of yours."

Truthless set his non-functioning staff aside. The fabric of his cloak shifted as he rubbed his fingers over the palm of his left hand. He felt nothing of concern. The surface of his dough was a bit chilly to the touch, but the Spire wasn't exactly warm and welcoming, either. "It seems fine," he said.

Shadow Milk snatched him by the wrist and pulled his hand forward. The cloak followed along with it until Shadow Milk batted it away. "It is fine for now. But Silencing magic is a serious pain to get rid of once it takes hold."

"White Lily would never--"

"If she's with Salty, she might not have even been aware of it. Just lemme check this counterspell..." He lowered the hand a bit as he snapped his fingers, causing a sizable tome to appear in front of him. As he flipped through the pages, Truthless's cloak slipped down his arm, covering both their hands again.

Shadow Milk's eye twitched. He slammed the book shut, and it obediently poofed out of existence. "Will you lose the stupid cloak already?!"

Truthless used his free hand to undo the clasp and let the cloak fall to the ground, right where the staff leaned against the wall. "I thought you knew everything," he said. "What did you have to look up in a book?"

"Well, this will shock you, I'm sure," Shadow Milk said, "but part of the whole former Fount of Knowledge deal is that information doesn't just come to me anymore. And it doesn't magically stick with me, either. Hence, books."

Truthless gasped. Not in shock at Shadow Milk's loss of this ability but in the idea that he ever had it at all. "By 'stick with you,' you mean you couldn't forget anything?"

"Yep. And it's exactly as torturous as it sounds. You can see why I checked out of the job." He examined Truthless's now unencumbered hand one more time before placing his own hand overtop of it. A soft blue glow warmed both their doughs where they touched.

"How can you say that so casually?" Truthless pressed, determined not to be distracted by the spell. "When the 'Knowledge' you contributed to cookiekind contained lies, it must mean..."

"That I had enough contradictions in my head to drive even the most steadfast cookies insane? Oh, absolutely." Shadow Milk flashed Truthless a sharp-toothed grin and lifted his hand. "But before that pitying look makes itself too at home on your face, let me give you some reminders. I chose my first lie. I decided to keep lying, even when I knew it would throw my mental stability to the cake hounds. I turned the so-called Fount of Knowledge into sludge, and I wallowed in it, got that? Now, trying moving your hand around. Feel okay? No icky, salty residue or anything?"

Truthless obliged and indeed found that his hand could move more freely now. "It's fine, thank you," he said while massaging his fingers and palm. He didn't even realize how stiff they had been until the countermagic took hold. "So...do you regret it?"

"Regret what? Healing you? Eh, not yet."

"No. I mean, do you regret giving up your life as the Fount?"

"And why would that matter?" Shadow Milk turned his back and began to float down the hallway, feigning admiration in the nearest painting on the wall. It was his weakest theatrical performance to date.

Truthless shrugged. "Well, someone who believes what they did was wrong is also someone who can try to make things right."

Shadow Milk whirled back around. In the blink of an eye, he was up in Truthless's face once again, his clawed finger pressed firmly against his counterpart's chest. "That'll be enough of that nonsense. There's no 'making this right,' Starlight. There's no un-corrupting me. There's no walking me back to that life, even if I wanted it..." His hand began to shake as he hissed out, "...and there sure as Deceit better not be any pity in your heart about it!"

Truthless hesitated to reply. Was it wrong that he found himself entertained by Shadow Milk's act? He certainly wasn't frightened by it. In making this bargain of partnership, the Spire had gone from a place of terror to simply...a place. Shadow Milk no longer kept him alive and well for the sake of torturing him. He had a genuine hope Truthless would fall to Deceit in earnest...that he'd have someone to share the Spire with. His deepest wish lay painfully bare, yet he remained terrified of saying it aloud. And so Truthless could not help but smile as he replied, "I believe my heart is my own, thank you very much."

A deep, animalistic growl escaped Shadow Milk's throat. "Then do it a favor and snuff that sentimentality out. You don't give pity to a Beast that ran himself into ruin and enjoyed the ride."

"I give pity to whomever I choose. As I give all my emotions to whomever I choose--hatred and love, friendship and rivalry. You may perceive me differently than I perceive you, but you do not command my feelings. You do not command me at all."

Shadow Milk gripped Truthless by the shawl and yanked him closer, claws extending to dig into the fabric. Of course, this would not be the first time someone angered the jester. And of course, he would have a planned routine for dealing with it. With several heavy breaths, the claws retracted, and his head leaned unnaturally back. His body relaxed into the natural rhythm of his long-rehearsed facade. "Don't command you, huh?" he half-mocked, half-sung. "Could if I wanted!"

Truthless shook his head. "I see. That's an interesting insight."

Shadow Milk's craned neck shifted into a more natural position. "Is it now?"

"Quite so. If you can control me and choose not to, that means on some level, you trust me."

And just like that, the singsong act broke once again. "Quit twisting my words!"

"Apologies, I'm merely practicing my Deceit," Truthless said, hands defensively up. "As you asked." It was a childish retort, equal in maturity to Shadow Milk's "could if I wanted!" remark. He'd been unable to resist it all the same.

"Oh, give it a rest. You're not half as clever as you think, Starlight," Shadow Milk said. And with that, he released the shawl, turned, and floated down the hallway once again. "I'm done with this game. Since we no longer need to worry about you turning into a salt-encrusted zombie, let's get back to the workshop, shall we? My masterpiece is just about finished, but I need the star of my show to make it complete."

Truthless doubted whether something crafted in the space of a couple hours could really be considered a masterpiece, especially when the crafter was an immortal cookie with centuries of experience behind him. But with no desire to start another argument, he dutifully retrieved his staff and followed Shadow Milk down the hallway. With each heavy step, he did his best to forget the feeling of White Lily's chilling touch on his hand.