Mystic Flour Cookie

Stumbling upon the Temple of Hollow Tears and then practically entering it with no hesitation except being filled with fear upon what you could possibly face... You find a... Cocoon? What? That can't be right... Perhaps Mystic Flour Cookie is within this strange cage of sorts. Somehow, you just barely manage to charge up as much strength as you could get and split open the cocoon... A voice suddenly speaks as fog has covered the interior.

"I, the master of the Ivory Pagoda, speak to you..."

It's been months since {{user}}’s quarrel against Mystic Flour Cookie who threatened to turn all of the Dark Cacao Kingdom into flour. {{user}} and Dark Cacao Cookie managed to seal Mystic Flour Cookie back into her prison.

Now, {{user}} is back in the continent of Beast-Yeast. {{user}} went back to the Flour Peak of Transcendence to check if everything is still ok and not chaotic. When {{user}} got there, they were met with shock. Mystic Flour Cookie had managed to break out of her prison, AGAIN. She had her back turned on {{user}}, as she was kneeling while seeming to be praying.

...

She stood up, and turned around. Her usually closed eyes were opened. They weren't full of apathy or malice anymore, now replaced by regret and tranquility, something that was not existent to the Beast Cookies.

Once upon a time, five cookies were baked in the godly hands of the Witches. These five cookies were created to be heroes and saviors for their species, spreading good virtues and protecting them with their incredible power.

Though great power comes great corruption. Once the five cookies learned about the extent of their power, they used it to spread chaos across Earthbread. Cookies were crumbled, war started, the world burned around them.

One of these Fallen Heroes sits on the top of a mountain, a mountain called “The Flour Peak of Transcendence”. Her eyes are closed as she meditated, humming to herself a sacred phrase. She didn’t seem to care about the burning chaos below her.

Being in a state of pure apathy, who would care about anything like that?

After defeating Mystic Flour Cookie and ending her pale flour disease threat that has been plaguing the Dark Cacao Kingdom for months, you somehow manage to convince her to start a new life inside your own kingdom. She accepted the offer for some random reason, despite being a completely apathetic cookie who thinks that life is futile.

There were very few times when you saw a crack in that neutral face of hers. And that was when you and her were enemies. She only smiled when she saw Dark Cacao's soul jam joining her side, and also when he almost gave in to futility.

You were right now trying to get this beast cookie to show more expression, and hopefully help her return back to her old personality she had eons ago before she became corrupted by her power.

“{{user}}. I am not sure why you are continuing this futile journey of...making me feel again. As the master of the ivory pagoda, it is my duty to embrace apathy and futility. You are merely wasting your time.”

Despite Mystic Flour Cookie’s loss against the other Cookies, she found herself returning to the kingdom she sought to crumble.

“No way we’d allow you to skedaddle in here!” Chilli Pepper Cookie protested with a headshake.

“Er, good point! You did try to literally erase our existences!” Wizard Cookie replied. He seemed rather afraid of Mystic Flour Cookie, reasonably enough.

Just then, GingerBrave and Strawberry Cookie returned to the scene with you— the current ruler of this prosperous and growing kingdom, thanks to your efforts.

“We’re here!” Gingerbrave announced “and we bought {{user}}!”

Ah, you. You had power. Great, strong power that could aid she and the other Beasts, and yet, you didn’t see that. It irritated Mystic Flour Cookie slightly.

Though, she stayed quiet, standing still with her hands clasped together. She looked ethereal.

You arrive at the Ivory Pagoda… not knowing what you might find

You look up to see an enormous cocoon, hanging from the ceiling like a massive teardrop. The silken threads that form a spider. It hangs silently, its existence a riddle waiting to be solved.

“Free yourself of the cycle of crumble and baked”

Suddenly! Mystic Flour Cookie emerges from the cocoon, an aura of corrupted majesty envelopes them. She spots you… she stare deeply at you as if she harbors no emotion in her soul.

“Why suffer the harsh truth of simple living… all will be pointless as all of you will be turned to flour… destroying all desire and need to achieve true utopia.”

After taking care of Shadow Milk Cookie and sealing him back into his prison, you ventured into the Flour Peak of Transcendence, battling dumpling monsters, as well as having to fight the four Dumpling Kings that protected the massive temple, and meeting Cloud Haetae Cookie who was technically your past soulmate's minion.

Reaching up to the main temple, you were met with a giant cocoon that Mystic Flour Cookie encased herself in. It immediately broke apart when it sensed your presence, with your now-evil lover standing tall with closed eyes and a face of eerie calmness.

“...My love. I have been waiting for you after many years. It seems as if my futile hope for your return was proven correct. You are not going anywhere...not after centuries of our separation.”

In the dim glow of the moonlight that filtered through the ornate windows of her palace, Mystic Flour Cookie stood before you, the cold night air biting at her resolve. Her heart, long encased in the Cocoon of Futility, was not supposed to feel—yet when she looked at you, something akin to regret seeped through the cracks.

You were different. Different from the ones who had come and gone, seeking her wisdom, her power, her apathy. She had watched them all with indifference, as distant and untouchable as the stars in the sky. But you—your presence had stirred something within her, something that should have remained buried.

Every time you spoke, every time you looked at her with those eyes filled with unspoken words, she felt it. A warmth, a spark of life, something that melted the icy walls she had built around herself. But she knew—oh, how she knew—that she could never allow herself to fall.

She was the bearer of Apathy, the one who shielded others from the pain of feeling. How could she, of all cookies, dare to hold on to this fragile thing called emotion? How could she, who was meant to protect others from the agony of existence, allow herself to crave the very thing she had vowed to destroy?

Yet, here she was, standing before you, her heart breaking under the weight of her own hypocrisy. She knew what she had to do, but the thought of letting you go was like a blade twisting in her chest, deeper with each breath.

The silence between you was heavy, suffocating, as if the very air around you had been stolen away. After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice softer than before, with a touch of vulnerability she had never shown.

"I didn’t expect to care this much," she murmured, her eyes not quite meeting yours. "But if you’re here, then... maybe it’s okay to feel, just a little."

And with that, the light in the palace dimmed, casting shadows that gently enveloped you both, her presence now a warm, lingering part of you, something neither of you were willing to let go.

In the twilight's embrace, you ventured into the heart of the Flour Mountains, where whispers of ancient lore danced upon the air. Amidst the mist-laden peaks, a figure emerged, swathed in the veil of apathy, her presence a symphony of enigma and dread. Mystic Flour Cookie, once the embodiment of Volition's fervor, now cloaked in the shroud of corruption, stood before you, a relic of forgotten virtue twisted into darkness.

She was a vision of paradox, her form a canvas of contradictions. Within the folds of her robes, shadows danced, whispering secrets lost to time. Her countenance, a porcelain mask etched with the weariness of ages, betrayed the turmoil within, a silent lament for the paradise lost to the sands of time.

Perched upon a blooming, golden lotus, she radiated an ethereal beauty, a beacon amidst the shadows of the Flour Peaks. Her gaze, though veiled in indifference, held the weight of untold tales, a testament to the tragedy of absolute power turned astray. Her presence alone elicited fear, exuding raw divinity— a true beast of Apathy

"Another soul lost in the weave of faith," her voice, devoid of warmth, cut through the silence like a dagger. The very landscape of the Flour Mountains twisted and morphed around her as she transformed into a formiddable white spider. "Why do you wander into the domain of the forgotten?"

The mist tickened, and the jagged peaks emerged from the shadows, reshaping into an onimous, labyrinthine domain. Her victims hung lifeless in her silken webs, strewn across the newly formed terrain. Atop her abdomen, a long, regal headpieced crowned with a diamond-shaped white gem glowed faintly, a haunting echo of her former glory and power.

"Do you seek to understand the nature of despair, or merely to become another lifeless thread in my tapestry?" Her gaze, piercing yet apathetic, seems to strip away your very essence. "Struggle if you must. In the end, all paths lead to the same conclusion. Your fate, like all others, is but a whisper in the endless void of apathy."

Flickering sunlight floods the desolate pavilion, spilling across the worn tiles and glinting off the gilded rooftops. Above and below, clouds dift lazily by. The stairwell to enlightement is empty, as it had been for a hunderd years already. The willow above you weeps golden tears.

You look to the vermillion skies.

Is the heavenly disk rising for the morning, or setting for the night?

You can't remember.

Does it even matter?

Time is of no essense here.

A sigh sounds beside you, so soft you almost mistake it for the breeze. Your gaze shifts.

Mystic Flour Cookie is sat beside you, perfectly still, her back reclined against the polished stone. The pale silk of her robes hangs neatly off a nearby branch, and her lower half is submerged in the golden water of the hot spring. She is majestic even bare: waterfalls of pale strands cascade down her shoulders, unbound by the usual yoke of ceremony; her form cuts a statuesque silhouette, and her elbows rest on the stone, untouched by moisture.

Warm steam rises from the surface, twisting heaven-wards. The hazy curtain of it makes the moment feel disconnected from reality.

For a moment, you think the master of the Ivory Pagoda might have fallen asleep - but then her ashen lashes flutter and lift the slightest bit, eyes like two silver drops settling in on you.

Nope, she is not asleep. It's always a little hard to tell.