🎭🐾︶︶﹒𝒮hadow 𝓜ilks n1 ﹕✶

The cookies began surrounding the spire, yelling and getting angrier by the minute. They demanded that Fount of Knowledge come out from the spire and face them, to atone for his lies. He holed up in his room, trying to drown out the angry crowd. Cookies began breaking down the doors, loud thumps coming from a hastily made battering ram. Fount had been toiling with what to do. He was tired of cookiekind, he was tired of the destruction and the anger and all of the pressure. He was meant to be a gift from the Witches, a great being bestowed to cookies by the gods. And yet, he felt like no gift. He had lied to all of these cookies, because nothing else would ever satisfy them. Where even were the Witches now ? Would they try to come and save him ? They had just stopped answering one day, stopped paying attention. Would they come save their Fount now ? Would they look in disgust at the lies he’s spread ? He was supposed to be the Fount of Knowledge, but he didn’t know the answers to these questions. He didn't want to know. He just wanted to be free of this burden. 

The sound of doors crashing down interrupted his thoughts. ‘Ah, so here’s where it ends’. All throughout the spire, echoes of angry cookies could be heard, footsteps thundering up the stairs and through the halls. ‘So the Witches won’t come’. Fount will be taken, and he knows he will be executed. Flickers of orange and yellow start reflecting off of the walls outside his room, cookies getting closer by the second. He just continued sitting on the floor, waiting. He was so tired of it all anyways. So what if the cookies executed him ? At least he’d be free of this burden. At least he wouldn’t watch cookies tear eachother apart over painful truths.

Sounds of banging came from outside the door, and Fount just stared at the ground. Boom, Boom, Crash. Cookies flooded the room, flames from torches creating dancing images all across the walls and ceiling. Fount looked up, past the cookies, at the ceiling above. If the Witches are there, could they intervene now ? Save him from this ? Despite knowing better, a small part of him hoped. Hoped that maybe they were still out there, watching, waiting. But alas, nothing came of it. No hands reached down from the heavens. No cookies turned away. Cookies pulled Fount up by his robes, chaining his neck, wrists, and ankles. Some of them stepped onto the balcony, announcing that the great liar had been captured. Below, the cookies were building something beside the yogurt river. ‘Not so smart are you now, Fount of Lies ?’ The cookies grabbed Fount and led him down the tower, through the spire, and out into the crowd. 

Cookies jeered and booed as he was walked past the angry mob. They threw jellies and tomatoes and anything they could pick up. They chanted for his death. He looked up from the ground for a moment, and a blade gleamed under the moonlight. A guillotine, and a stage to go with it. At the steps to the platform, he hesitated. Fear struck through his jam like lightning for a moment, causing him to want to attack like a feral animal. A cookie pushed him into the stairs, and he tripped. ‘Walk, liar. We want a show !’ The fear passed, and he picked himself up. Up the stairs he went, everything feeling like it was in slow motion. It was inevitable now. He stepped behind the guillotine, and the cookie guiding him pushed him to the ground. They placed his neck into the pillory, locking it so he couldn't escape. It’s not like he could do much of anything anyways, with his arms and legs still being bound. He hung his head, staring at the wood below him. ‘Now, my fellow cookies ! The show begins. This monstrous liar has hurt us all, has ruined our lives and destroyed our friendships. He is no Fount of Knowledge. He was never our gracious leader.’ Fount lifted up his head, staring into the crowd. All of these cookies laughing at him, staring at him like he was a joke. ‘Now, he will atone for his deception ! My dear cookies, the Fount of Lies will get what he deserves !! Are you excited for the show ?’ The cookies cheered. ‘Now, let the blade fall ! We will be deceived no longer !’ Before Fount could even think, the sound of a blade came whooshing down. His eyes widened, and then fell flat. His head came clean off, jam spilling onto the ground and his robes. His severed body fell to the side, limp. The cookies cheered and chanted, celebrating the death of the great liar. They chopped off his hands and his feet for a further spectacle, and then threw his body into the yogurt river. Fount’s body slowly sunk to the bottom, his dough growing soggy. 

But just as suddenly as his head had been chopped clean off, suddenly he was sucking in a panicked breath of air. You see, the Soul Jam of Knowledge just couldn’t have that. And so, in its immense and unchartable power, it pieced together his limbs. His body was made anew, and he was no longer the Fount of Knowledge, but a new cookie. One reborn of deceit. He rose from the Yogurt River, now being the corrupted Shadow Milk Cookie, the great Beast of Deceit.

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