Chapter Text
The crack in the mirror was the first lie.
Cracks in mirrors were supposed to mean that the glass had a weak point; a place where a little strategic pressure could be applied, and the entire structure would collapse.
But if this crack before Pure Vanilla was real, he could easily get free of his prison. Yet no matter how hard he pounded on the thick, transparent surface, he could get nowhere. The dull thuds of his efforts got softer and softer as his strength faded. Was he...getting weaker?
No, not weaker exactly. But his powers felt like they were leeching out of him. And when he tried to beckon them back, the returning sensation was so foreign...and such a twisted, bitter flavor...
Also, his hands were blue.
"No!"
The realization quickly dawned on him that what he saw beyond the glass barrier wasn't a reflection. True, the figure on the other side looked remarkably like him--but the sinister grin was like no expression he'd ever worn.
"No-no-no-no," he repeated to himself, the voice not his own but one that had haunted his nightmares for longer than he could remember. "This isn't right. I'm not Shadow Milk Cookie. I-I'm Pure Vanilla Cookie!"
The figure beyond the glass laughed. With his voice. "Appearances say otherwise, my adorable other half. And I know what you're thinking. Switching our bodies? However did I pull off such a clever trick? Ah, but it's really not puzzling at all. When you're two sides of the same coin, all that's needed for a stunt like this is to simply flip the coin." He made a motion of flicking an invisible coin into the air, then mimed catching it only to throw it away without glancing at the result.
Pure Vanilla gave the glass one last half-hearted smack. There was little else he could do. The space around him was some kind of blue-and-black-pattered dais, perhaps five or six times as long as he was high, slightly elevated above a pitch black floor. When he tried to place a foot off the dais, he felt as if he were losing himself, disappearing altogether into the Dark Side of the Moon. Teal smoke floated around that seemed to have no feel or scent. For all Pure Vanilla knew, the entire set-up was just a trick of his own mind. The only thing he knew for sure was that he could neither move off this space nor break the glass. He was trapped.
"Oh, come on, now. Why the long face?" the figure who looked like him teased. "You don't think I'd lock you there without some clue on how to get out? I mean, really...what kind of a beast do you think I am?" He chuckled to himself and with a flourish of his hand, a streak of navy bled into Pure Vanilla's once cream-colored robes. It spread to the edges of the fabric, giving the figure a cold and intimidating presence. Even the face of Pure Vanilla's healing staff now glared at him with cold, piercing blue eyes.
"Now, I have a grand appearance to make, so I'll only say this once. The key to escape is to speak one truth about yourself and believe that truth. Shouldn't be too hard, right? Good luck!" And with that, he vanished into the inky darkness. Pure Vanilla sank to his knees, both relieved when his enemy's laugh faded and terrified at how alone he felt without it.
Unless some nonsensical riddle counted as company.
"A truth? About myself?" he repeated under his breath. It couldn't be that easy. Not when all Pure Vanilla knew was truth. Still, he had no other lead on how to escape. He had to at least take the riddle at face value first.
He stood, cleared his throat and spoke awkwardly into the darkness: "Um, hello? My name is Pure Vanilla Cookie."
Nothing. Not the slightest shift in the wisps of smoke nor any give from the pane of glass. Of course. Any working "key" had to be the kind of twisted statement that Shadow Milk would call truth. And Pure Vanilla also had to believe it? He might as well have been told he could leave as soon as he learned how to fly.
It didn't stop him from trying, of course. He proclaimed every "truth" of Shadow Milk's he could imagine:
"I'm not the true owner of the soul jam!"
"I'm only half a cookie!"
"Shadow Milk has always followed me!"
"I'm...um...I'm really ugly?!" Wait, no, he wouldn't think that. Pure Vanilla shook his head. Even though he could see a faint reflection of himself when he paced close enough to the glass, it was still easy to forget how his appearance had changed. Or maybe he pushed the memory away because dwelling on it might cause him to crack. But now he paused from his pacing and faced the blurry distorted image of himself head-on. Shadow Milk's face still looked back at him, of course, but with softened eyes and timid fear. Fear he would never escape. Fear he would lose his friends. Fear that despite their best efforts, he and his comrades had caused more harm with their powers than good. Even the strange eyes hidden in the shadows of his hair quivered with that same fear.
He placed his strange blue-tinged hand against the one in the reflection. "Shadow Milk said many cookies preferred lies because the truth was too hard to face. Is there...a truth right in front of me that I'm refusing to see?"
It came to him as soon as he said it. Yes, there was such a truth, and he was quite literally staring it in the face.
He dropped his hand, stepped back, and took a breath. He had the solution. Now he had to actually believe it. Locking eyes with his reflection, he said aloud with a fierce determination:
"I'm not Pure Vanilla Cookie. I'm...I'm Shadow Milk Cookie!"
With an instant, booming crack, the glass wall shattered into sugary dust.
