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Summary
A final thought came to him.
Eventually... He would slip into his permanent drift.
Not sleep. Not death. Something slower. Quieter. A dream that never ends.
In it, perhaps, he could build the world he never had. A world untouched by betrayal, unburdened by power.
Or maybe… he’d dream of what came after. Where he no longer had to be good or wise or anything at all.
Perhaps he’d see them again there, Eternal Sugar, Mystic Flour, Burning Spice, Silent Salt; shadows of themselves, softer, kinder.
But maybe not.
It didn’t matter.
The dream would be his.
—
Shadow Milk is torn between further corruption and redemption. But comfort is easy to fake. Paradise is easier to build when it’s built on lies. Maybe he’ll make his own.
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Bookmark Notes:
its so devastatingly beautiful, very very sad be warned if the authors notes aren’t enough warning.
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Bookmark Notes:
... It's not a lie, I'm crying
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Bookmark Notes:
sad :(