Chapter Text
Romance, in all its glory, was never a strong suit for Sage. They have fallen in love before. They understand the ups and downs, the wishful longings, and the sorrowful breakups.
Sage knows how it feels to hold a lover’s hand as you walk down the street in autumn weather. They know how nice it is to have someone listen as you ramble nonstop with a stupid, lovesick expression.
… They know how grief encompasses the emotion when they are gone, taken away by forces beyond one’s control.
The point is, Sage is not ignorant when it comes to the ways of love. For Heaven's sake, Sage is a professor, a teacher, an observer. They have seen the many types of romance take hold of their students.
They have witnessed the reactions, the bonds, and the separations more times than they can count. Sage is well accustomed to all of love’s little intricacies!
But never in their wildest dreams (or nightmares for that matter) did Sage think they would possess someone in a relationship… or well, at the tail end of one.
Sage sighs, the action more internal than audible. A glance up shows attentive faces soaking up the lecture being given… However, they can’t shake the feeling of eyes on them.
It’s the anxiety talking, Sage knows. Their nerves are shot. The object held tightly between their hands, the cause.
They glance down at the glowing screen. A shiver runs along their spine. Sage brings a thumb to their lips and bites their nail. The chewing motion calms them slightly.
They hunch over their desk, hiding Shadow Milk’s phone in the shadows. The screen lights up their face, reflecting off their eyes. A worried crease forms between their brows as they stare at the text thread before them.
Lengthy paragraphs of missed texts litter the screen. The words written range from worried rants to demanding pleas, but all are from one sender: “Nilly,” or rather Pure Vanilla.
Sage can feel a headache coming on just from reading them. He’s persistent, Sage will give him that. They scroll… and scroll… and scroll-
Damn, Shadow Milk spooked the golden boy bad. Half of these are frazzled messages asking him where he is, while the rest are… confusing. The further up they go, the more mind-boggling it gets.
Sage is clearly missing the context, but it almost seems like Pure Vanilla is… apologizing.
The way Golden Cheese attacked them, Sage had thought Shadow Milk had caused the split… What the hell?
Sage ceases their onslaught on their thumb and lightly cuffs their neck. A silent fury bubbles beneath their skin as their throat whines at the touch.
That was uncalled for!
They take a deep breath. Now is not the time.
Their eyes wander back to the screen as they read more of Pure Vanilla’s messages. The intensity of each rant grows the longer they scroll. His apologies blend into explanations.
Sage can’t make heads or tails of what he is referring to, but the tone of his writing makes them feel… queasy.
It’s like they're reading a train of thought gone astray. One moment he’s apologizing, the next comforting. He goes back and forth justifying his actions, explaining to Shadow Milk why it had to be done…
But then Pure Vanilla’s diction shifts, and he blames Shadow Milk for what happened. He insists that they were blowing everything out of proportion, that everything was fine, and that Shadow Milk was cruel for reacting the way he did.
Sage bites his lip and tilts his head. Their eyes squint as they scroll.
Shadow Milk doesn’t fight back; in fact, he doesn’t respond in the slightest until three days prior.
The words, “I hope this kills you,” are displayed like a threat.
Sage runs a hand down their covered arm. They can imagine the raised skin and smell the faint scent of blueberry jam… An understanding is starting to form.
Their thumb swipes up to the beginning of the conversation. Surprisingly, it’s Shadow Milk who replies first.
Monday, 9th, 8:36pm
Shadow Milk
I want you to stay the fuck away from my family.
Nilly
Bluebird! Oh, thank the Witches. You worried me dearly!
Where are you?
We can talk this out.
Shadow Milk
I want you to listen to me for once in your life. Just stop and let me talk… Please.
Nilly
You’re not making any sense, Love. Let me help you. Tell me where you are, and we can fix this, fix us.
Are you in your dorm? I’m coming over.
Shadow Milk
I loved you. I really did.
I never thought a guy like me could be with a guy like you… Nilly, you were my everything.
It felt like I was invincible, like I was looking down from above when I was with you. You were an angel and I… I was along for the ride.
It didn’t matter what anyone else said, what rumors went around, because I knew the truth.
I knew you… Or at least I thought I did.
Nilly
My light, my other half, it’s okay. You’re okay. Stop with this nonsense.
I’m coming up the steps to your dorm right now. Please, give me a few more moments, and then we can talk.
Everything will be fine. I promise.
Shadow Milk
It was great, at the start…
The attention was addictive. People would stare as we walked down the hall. It felt exhilarating, like a power trip to have that many eyes on us, on me. I basked in the love, in the jealousy, in the fear. I wasn’t just a weak, little school boy anymore, and they knew it. I was walking with the big cats, a part of the pride. You made it all worth it, made me feel seen…
The quiet moments were nice too.
I liked lying in your dorm room and hearing you laugh. The sun would seep through that blind you never got fixed. Rays of light danced around you like a halo… It’s what I imagine heaven is like, with all the warm colors and comforting touches.
However, I liked having someone who got it the most.
I didn’t even have to say what I was feeling. You just understood! You always did, just like that, like we were meant to be, two parts of a whole.
You could always read me like an open book. I thought I could do the same.
…But I was naive. It was all a lie, a dirty, filthy little lie.
Nilly
No, no, of course it wasn’t. Hold on. Let’s talk about this face-to-face. We shouldn’t discuss this over text.
Let me hold you. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it!
Open the door.
Shadow Milk
…And yet I wanted to believe in it.
I wanted to believe in density. I wanted to believe we were fated. I wanted to believe what our soul jams represented.
I wanted it so bad.
But last night was the final straw.
Nilly
Open the door, darling.
Open the door.
Shadow Milk
I can’t be with you, not like that, not after what you did.
I’m a coward. I know.
Even after everything, I still want to believe; I still want to hold your hand.
But I can’t just ignore what you did to her.
You’re sick. A demon shrouded in angel feathers held together by lies and deceit. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you!
… I hate that I still love you.
Nilly
Bluebird, open the door. This is nonsense. Let me fix it. Please. I can still fix it. I love you. Please, you’re not thinking straight. Open the door.
Shadow Milk
I’m breaking up with you, in case you couldn’t tell. I’m done. I can’t keep doing this… It’s over. It’s all over.
I hope this kills you as it did me.
Goodbye, Pure Vanilla. You were an experience, one I’ll never forget… I hope the image you find haunts you for the rest of your days.
I know I will.
Nilly
Stop talking like that. Please open the door, love. You know I had to do it-
The conversation dissolves into a jumbled mess of sorrowful apologies and unraveling justifications. It’s the same song and dance Sage read before… Throughout it all, Shadow Milk never texts back.
The silence speaks volumes.
Sage didn’t pay it much mind before, but now that small insight holds weight.
…They scroll faster.
Days pass filled with empty promises and worried rants. Pure Vanilla keeps texting Shadow Milk, not knowing what transpired that night.
Sage can picture it clearly.
They can imagine shaky hands grasping a chipped phone over a loaded tub as water poured down on blue dough. They can hear deep breaths rattling collapsed lungs with the scent of blueberry jam clouding the room like laughing gas. They can see tears mixing with snot and sweat as droplets fall onto blessing wrists.
The image is so realistic that it’s like Sage has experienced it themselves, as if they are reliving a nightmare.
The fear is palpable, nestling into their bones. It’s a phantom ache spreading across their covered shame. Their eyes go blurry as static envelopes their brain, mind fuzzing out like someone changing the channel on a radio-
~~~~~!
Pouring fists slam on hardwood while choked sobs are held behind rickety hiccups. Lightheaded as he is, wobbling legs stand and stumble towards the invasive noise.
Slick with blood, the buzzing device clutched between his hands thuds into a charging port. He flinches back once the deed is done, the sound mixing with the threatening tone behind flimsy defenses… But that’s it. It’s final. His last soliloquy has been delivered, his requiem sung, his testimony pleaded.
…The thunderous noise grates on his ears.
A moment, a pause… a second of hesitation tugs at his sleeve.
Eyes shift over and lock onto the divide… A cruel little thought resounds off his skull like an echo-
“Don’t you hear him? Just listen to how desperate he sounds! You love him, don’t you? Turn back. Open the door.”
-Guilt eats away at his decision, but the image of rot and flies compels him forward.
He doesn’t succumb. The door is left closed, locked firmly in place, with the mimic wearing cookie skin trapped behind it.
…
Rushing water greets him as they step past the point of no return, the intensity drowning out his fear, his shame, his guilt. Knees fall to the ground, water kisses his skin.
A heavy breath leaves his body as he leans closer, seeking forgiveness but finding none… An ugly reflection grins back at him.
The sight turns his stomach. A hand is thrust into the water’s depths, blood mixing with water in an artful display. Fire rages up his wrist while tears drip down-
~~~~~?
“Shadow Milk Cookie!”
Sage jumps in their seat. Their hair bristles like a cat’s hackles as their eyes widen. The memory fades away, leaving behind a dazed delirium. They blink as they turn their head, coming face-to-face with an angry professor.
“Huh?”
It’s a stupid, dumb response, seeing as the motion brought Shadow Milk’s phone out into the open. The heavy sigh and pinched brow they get in return only solidifies that fact further.
Their teacher holds out their hand, face set in a stern eyebrow rise, “Your phone, please. We come here to learn, not text our lovers. If you have time to make heart eyes, then surely you have time to listen to my lecture for once. Need I remind you what you scored on our last test, Shadow Milk Cookie?”
Giggles erupt throughout the room as Sage’s face flushes. They hear a few snide remarks and whispered gossip pass around the room. The feeling of humiliation sticks to them like chewed-up gum.
It’s the awkwardness of the situation that keeps them aware enough to hand over their phone. The feelings of fear mixed with their spiked anxiety are causing a mental drawback. Sage can’t focus on the here and now, too wrapped up in whatever had just transpired.
The motion of nodding their head, turning back to their desk, and hunching over to hide their face feels more like a rehearsed scene than an actual action they take… Like a puppet on strings.
Class continues. Sage hears their professor draw the students’ attention back to the lesson, but they can’t focus.
Thoughts of Pure Vanilla flood their mind.
Images of dripping jam and shaky breaths shift behind their eyelids as the sound of pounding fists beat against their skull. Sage brings a hand up to Shadow Milk’s soul jam, the gem dead to the world yet strangely warm like an overheating computer.
…That fear was real… Too real.
Clues are starting to form, and yet Sage gets the sinking feeling he won’t like the full picture.
Lunch is Sage’s holy grail.
They never thought a classroom could fill them with such prickly emotions. Everyone, and Sage means everyone, at this school hates their guts- er, well, Shadow Milk’s guts.
It has been an absolute nightmare going from class to class, and Sage doesn’t just mean that because of their… episode this morning.
Every turn they take is like stepping into a minefield. At least six strangers have tripped them, and a dozen others have glared at them as if they caused the Dark Flour War! Not to mention some jerk-wad put gum, gum, in their hair!
Sage was able to get it out, but still the audacity!
They sigh and lean back. A thud sounds out where drywall tapes their head.
Sage throws an arm over their face, covering their eyes. The ground is cold beneath their legs, but it calms their anger. Their fingers brush a loose paper, one of Shadow Milk’s missing assignments they have been trying to complete, while a pen is clutched in their off hand.
They glare at the offending document and crunch it, smudging the drying ink.
Shadow Milk said he was the talk of the school in those texts, spoken as if he were a god walking amongst morals. Either the boy’s ego is larger than his common sense, or Pure Vanilla had more of an impact than Shadow Milk was letting on.
Without that bridge, every social prowess Sage could muster has dried up. News of the break-up has spread like wildfire… and Shadow Milk was painted the bad guy because there always has to be a bad guy.
…But the texts on his phone showed a different story, a different truth. Sage knows, but the rest of the school doesn’t. They only heard Pure Vanilla’s side of the tale.
You know: the golden boy, the school’s president, the honey-coated, innocent little cinnamon roll who has never told a lie in his life. Who wouldn’t believe him?
It would be quite easy, spinning the tale to make it worse than what was. Shadow Milk was already a villain portrayed in the novel, a part of the Beasts. His word is worth little more than a broken doll.
…Golden Cheese’s attack would make more sense, no matter how uncalled for it was, if that was the case. In her eyes, she was protecting her friend, one of her so-called “treasures.”
Sage scoffs. Ya, like a silly rumor is enough to justify such a retaliation. The bruise around their neck says otherwise… Just what is the logic behind this place?
Sparkling glitter forms a frowny face on their worksheet, bloating out half the words to a math problem. Sage grumbles and hunches over.
Magic? There was no magic in the books Sage read.
The story stuck solely to a “slice of life” theme. Soul jams were barely introduced and had little impact on the story! Sage thought they were implemented as a marketing scheme!
Argh! Their pen slides across the page, drawing a harsh outline of the accursed gem housed on their collarbone. They take a deep breath as they color it in.
Authors tend to add plot twists or combine story elements when they get bored. Sage would know; they have done it before. It’s fine. It’s okay. They were already improvising. What’s one more unexpected turn?
Ah!
Their pen explodes. Ink covers their homework, spreading like a wine stain. Sage’s eye twitches as they clutch their pen harder. They brush their tongue against their teeth and glare.
Deep breath.
They set the pen down and throw the paper away. It flutters softly before grazing the ground. A hand runs through their locks as they wind a strand around their finger.
Why are they so mad right now?
Sage had been frustrated all morning ever since that stupid vision. Images of blood-jam and heated tears haunt their mind. They are scared, angry, and confused! They want to understand, to unravel the mystery tormenting them, but Sage can’t get their head on straight!
It’s like someone else is pulling their strings, acting in their place. Sage is supposed to be the performer. They are supposed to be in control.
So why doesn’t it feel like it?
…
Sage rubs their eyes and stretches their legs out. Think. They need to think.
Pure Vanilla was a sweet character in the novel, but in this reality, he isn’t. He did something, something bad enough that Shadow Milk wanted to kill himself… and he achieved just that.
Oh, Witches, Shadow Milk is dead… What does that mean for Sage?
No, nope! Not going down that spiral. They broke up; Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla are over. Clearly, Pure Vanilla had an issue with that. The man wasn’t leaving Shadow Milk alone because he knew something, something he shouldn’t.
Witches, Sage wishes they still had Shadow Milk’s phone. They need-
!!!
Sage flinches forward as pounding steps beat down the stairs behind them. The noise grates on their ears, breaking the silence. It causes the lump in their throat to thicken as heat builds behind their eyes in frustration.
What gives? Which actor has gone off script? Their cue has not been called! Can't Sage lament in peace?
They inch forward and peek around the corner, they have hidden themselves behind only to see pink curls-
Sage wipes their head around as they stumble back into their hiding place. Their cane clatters across the ground from the fast movement. They feel their eyes widen and fingers twitch, heart stopping within their chest.
For one terrifying moment, Sage holds their breath and waits.
“Augh! My feet are killing me. Let’s take a break, Spicy. It’s been hours!” A sweet-toned voice whines, demolishing the horror into something stomachable.
It’s music to Sage’s ears. They weren’t heard.
Their shoulders relax as they let out a sigh of relief before wiggling further back into their cubby, pretending to be nothing more than a piece of furniture.
Eternal Sugar.
Just their rotten luck! Sage isn’t prepared to face her or any of Shadow Milk’s friends, for that matter! They need to run lines first lest they be caught red-handed for body snatching!
A second voice speaks up, the tone being more gruff in nature, “Not yet! Have Pavlova or SugarFly Cookie reported back? Nutmeg hasn’t seen anything, nor have the Salt knights… Are you sure Salt saw him third period?”
He sounds worried-angry and frustrated, very frustrated. Sage can feel the heat behind his words from here… A faint scent of pepper flakes wafts through the air. It makes their eyes prickle from the intensity.
Burning Spice.
Okay~ just gonna move a little more to the right and blend in with the shadows. Nothing to see here! Go away, go away, go away!
Not only is Sage trapped, but one wrong move and the two vultures out there will notice they exist! Why did they choose a hiding spot with only one exit? Don’t turn around, please don’t turn around.
“I’m sure and no. I haven’t gotten a single text in the last twenty minutes,” Eternal Sugar rolls her eyes and shakes her phone for emphasis. Her wings flutter in aggravation as she sways her hip.
“Look, I love Blueberry as much as you do. He’s my little brother, too, but face the facts! If he wanted to talk with us, then he would have. Besides, word on the grapevine is Blue broke up with Pv again. He’s probably licking his wounds in some corner somewhere.”
“What?”
Burning Spice grabs Enteral Sugar by her shoulders, snatching her attention where it had drifted to her phone. “What do you mean they broke up? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Sugar scoffs, “Come on, Spicy. It’s not a big deal. They fight all the time. We just need to give Berry some space and-”
“He’s been avoiding us for three days! This isn’t like last time, and stop calling him that. He goes by “Shadow Milk” now. You know that,” Burning Spice runs a hand through his hair like he didn’t just turn Sage’s worldview upside down.
What? Siblings? Who calls their siblings their friends? And what does Spice mean? Shadow Milk had a name change? That stupid journal was useless after all!
Okay, okay, okay. They collect their things, shoving both pen and papers in their bag. Their cane is grasped with a firm hand as they wobble to their feet.
New plan: Sage needs to leave while the two are distracted!
It’s time to break out their stealth skills and make like a leaf. Sage holds their breath as they put one foot in front of the other, cane held above the ground, silencing their movements.
Their shadowed covering vanishes as Sage steps into the light. They stick to the hallway’s wall, creating distance but also support for their aching leg, and tip-toe around the budding argument.
They let the conversation roll off their ears as they move, anxiety clogging their throat every step of the way. Step. Step. Step. Don’t trip. Keep moving, keep your head down. Don’t get distracted. One. Two. One. Two. Get to the Wings, beyond the curtains, get off stage!
By the time it takes them to get a third of the way down the hall, the argument has spiked.
Spice said something he shouldn’t.
Sugar gets defensive.
Her wings puff up in aggravation while her frown pouts, “I know- I didn’t- It’s just- Ugh! It’s not important. They break up like every week! Come morning, Doe will be all over that poser-“
“No, you don’t understand-“
“What don’t I understand!” Sugar balls her hands into fists, widening her stance. Spice recoils in shock, and Sage follows suit, stunned by the sudden shout.
“I’m tired, my feet hurt, and we have been searching for that little blue devil for the past few days. And. You. Know. What? He’s still not showing his face!” Sugar marches closer to the gentle giant, standing on her tiptoes to meet his eyes. Her tone turns challenging.
“He knows we’re looking. We know he’s hiding. And there is nothing we can do about it!” She throws her hands into the air, fuming.
Spice whimpers like a wet cat, but it doesn’t stop the ongoing fury bubbling off of Sugar.
She jabs a finger into the giant’s chest, “I have missed not one, not two, but three hangouts with my girls!” Each word is said with a jab, her acrylic nails pinching the fabric.
“I have a life too, you know? I can’t keep doing this. Shadow Milk can handle himself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a lunch date to get to,” Sugar glares, whips her hair, and walks away.
Silence consumes the hallway, the tapping of her heels fading into the distance.
Spice watches her leave with such a pitiful expression, it makes Sage want to go over there and comfort him… Almost. But they don’t, instead continuing on their chosen path.
Escape. Don’t get caught. Stop with the icky feelings! Keep moving! Stay indifferent.
They don’t pay any mind to the sad sigh or shuffle of feet as they go. The quiet, “Well, I fucked that up,” goes unnoticed as they turn a corner, sparing a glance back only for a second-
Sage thunks their head on a solid surface so hard they stumble back. Confusion colors their face as their eyes travel up-
A Cat girl… or a centaur cat girl, fluffy ears, tail, and all, stands before them like a brick wall, blocking their only exit.
Is it weird this isn’t fazing them as much as the bird-hybrids? Burning Spice has multiple arms. Sage has eyes in their hair… Cat girl makes the most sense, honestly.
She has fiery red curls and a piercing gaze to match. Her pupils thin into slits when their eyes meet. Sage doesn’t recognize her, but she recognizes them. The hiss humming within her throat is proof enough.
“Shadow?”
Sage whips around at the pitiful tone. Their eyes widen as Burning Spice catches sight of them and-
Oh no.
Sage turns around, sees the cat cookie, then turns back to Burning Spice. Like a game of table tennis, they twist back and forth rapidly, realizing the trouble they are in. Spice on one side, this new player on the other. Fuck.
The taller cookies blink, just now catching sight of the other, and break out of their stunned silence. A sort of shared communication is passed between the two, consisting of eyebrow rises and head tilts. Whatever they discuss ends with a firm nod and two sets of fiery gazes locking onto Sage.
Not good.
Their eyes dart around wildly. Spice is down the hall. The stairs they were hiding under, blocked by his massive body. The distance is too great to travel in such a short amount of time, yet the alternative isn’t much better.
The cat cookie stands closer, stance ready to pounce, claws on standby. Sage can barely outrun someone with two legs; she has four.
Double fuck.
All seems futile as panic sets in.
The two cookies step closer. Sage spins around like a chicken with their head cut off! Their cane scrapes against the floor with their indecisiveness. Their backpack thumps against their back. Sweat drips off their brow as their throat closes up and-
Okay. Okay. Okay.
New, new plan: Fight?
“Hey buddy, we just want to talk. Nothing to be afraid of, so stay still!” Spice lungs at them, all four arms reaching out. Time slows down as Sage stares wide-eyed at the oncoming threat until instinct takes over.
Sage kneels him in the gut. Hard.
Spice falls over with a loud thud, grasping his stomach. Painful grunts leave his crumbled form as his knees meet the tile.
“S-sorry,” Sage squeaks, because they didn’t mean to hit that hard and honestly are quite surprised-
Two strong arms grab them from behind. They squeal in surprise and kick their feet as the cat girl picks them up. “Hold still,” She hisses, wrangling them like a disobedient kitten.
Sage does not sit still.
Instead, they kick and scratch and bite whatever is closest because fuck you! When it becomes clear the girl isn’t bothered by their attacks, Sage resorts to reeling his head forward and slamming it back into her chin.
The deafening bang is more satisfying than they thought it would be.
Stars dance around their vision, and by the witches, they will have a killer headache later, but it gets the job done. The cat girl releases them in favor of clutching her jaw. A silent “Ah, Fuck!” passes her lips as she steps back, creating distance.
It’s enough.
Sage wiggles around her and runs.
They run faster than they have in their entire life.
They run like they are passing the final plate in a baseball game. They run like they have the ball for a winning touchdown. They run like they are turning in their final research assignment before the deadline with two minutes to spare!
Adrenaline courses through their veins, pushing them further. They feel giddy, yet drained, but they keep moving, twisting through the labyrinth that is their school. A pain shoots up their leg, the left one, and they are reminded of the horrible ache housed within their bones, but pay it little mind.
A tiny laugh escapes as they turn a corner, cane skittering across the ground at the old angle.
Holy Moly, that actually worked! They didn’t think it would. Sage has a base stat of zero in fitness! That should have ended badly! Sage should be at a game-over screen. They should have reloaded, but because of some strange twist of fate, Sage survived!
The win feels so great after the crummy day they were-
Pounding footsteps beat down the hall coming from… behind them-
Sage spares a second to glance over their shoulder just to see a heaping mass of red barreling down the hallway straight towards them.
Ya, it couldn't have been that easy. Of course! They jump like a cat and pick up their pace.
“Stop running!” Spice yells.
“Stop chasing me!” Sage retorts.
Wind blows by their face, tousling their hair as they move. One hallway leads to the next. Sage hops over ledges, squeezing through closed doors, and dances around corners. Left, right, straight, turn. The pattern becomes rhythmic, their feet the orchestra.
Neither side backs down, but neither gains distance either. It’s a stalemate running off fear and emotions alone.
The farther they run, the more occupied the hallways become. Onlookers stare at the ongoing crisis before them, but none step in to stop either cookie. Sage blames the heaping mass of fiery hell lapping at their heels.
Phones flash in their face, and giggles soon follow. Sage can only imagine the headache this will bring, but unfortunately, they don't have the time to be dramatic about it.
A crossroads is before them, and Sage swings left.
Wrong choice.
The hallway opens up to a huge common area. Sage jolts to a stop as they gaze at the massive collection of cookies swarming the place. Their heart picks up while their eyes search for a way out.
However, Spice’s footsteps increase at Sage’s hesitation. AH!
Without a second thought, Sage jumps into the fray, shoving cookies out of the way. “Sorry, sorry, excuse me, sorry!” is a polite mantra that pleads from their lips, although it isn’t received well. They are glared, shouted at for their reckless behavior, but it doesn't stop them. Sage keeps fighting. They keep moving.
Spice has no such difficulty.
While Sage has to squeeze and push their way through, the crowd parts like the Red Sea for the hothead. Not for the first time, Sage curses their height. If only they weighed over 120 pounds and looked like a football player, then maybe they wouldn’t have to resort to this silly game of Tetris!
“Pavlova Cookie! Get him!”
What? Sage turns back around and sees what you could only describe as a Cherub in cookie flesh. The pink cookie starlets, wings fanning out. He zeros in on the commotion, and like a light bulb going off, drops into a defensive position.
Sage is heading right toward him. Uh, Oh.
They hectically scramble to stop their advance, feet scraping against the floor. Can’t go forward. Can’t go back. That leaves-
Sage parrots to the right. They sprint around cookies, jump over backpacks, and squish between friend groups. Not once do their feet slow down, not once do they look back.
!!!
There!
Sage wastes no time. They lunge for the spotted gap and increase their speed. Spice exclaims something behind them, but Sage pays it no mind as their foot lands unbalanced.
Time slows as gravity takes hold. They wobble. A hand reaches out, one radiating warmth, but it misses.
Sage tumbles.
Eyes catch sight of a staircase underneath them, but it’s too late.
Their knees bonk against tile while their arms wrap around their head. Flashes of colors swirl past their vision. Their skin screams where the impact is the greatest. They can feel more bruises decorating their dough by the minute.
It ends just as it begins, bated breaths and all. Sage abruptly stops with the final stair passed, arms slapping against the ground. Their head spins as they push up on wobbly legs, caneless, and dizzy.
They heave a breath as their eyes blur. Voices climb in volume as the world comes back to them. The chatter is loud, bouncing off the walls.
Overall, they feel fine despite the dramatics. No broken bones, no bleeding nose, just a hazy, blank-eyed stare and a feeling of wrongness that compels them to look down. It shocks them greatly, leaving them frozen as their eyes catch sight of blue particles.
Sage reaches a hand up and brushes Shadow Milk’s soul jam. It fizzles, cracks, then pops with a strange blue glow… That explains the sudden natural twenties on athleticism, but it looks like time’s up.
The light dims, and with it the warmth. Now, sitting dead on their chest, Sage doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not.
It’s the pounding of feet that gets them moving again. Sage is still dizzy, still confused, but focused enough to understand that they need to go.
The first step is hard, but the next comes easier. Their cane waits patiently for them up ahead, and Sage can’t be more grateful. The object is grabbed without much fanfare.
Next, they know, Sage is shifting down hallway after hallway, corridor after corridor. Left. Straight. Right. Double back. They pass classrooms filled with students, round corners sharper than a knife, and skitter between columns wider than the sea.
They get so lost in their head, in making sure their trail ends cold, they don’t realize how the temperature drops.
Shadows cover the once glowing walls. Bulbs are broken, their shattered glass left to collect dust on the floor. Marble turns gray, white to black. Cobwebs litter the space as if they are home, and Sage is an uninvited guest.
It’s the feeling of eyes on them that keeps them moving even without another soul in sight.
They’re lost, completely and utterly.
Spice’s footsteps have long since faded, but Sage refuses to stop. They can’t slow down, not yet.
Not until they know they are safe. They may have won the chase, but something tells them they are still being hunted. Glimpses of shadows dance in the corners of their eyes, hints of orange and yellow making a mockery of them.
The tapping of their cane helps little in their paranoia.
They’re tired, feet heavy with exhaustion and pain alike. Sage’s hands are still shaking from their fall, and the wide openness of the space they are inhabiting makes them physically ill.
Somewhere quiet, but secure, is what they need; somewhere to hide where they won’t be found.
Sage stumbles then turns, eyes catching on a cracked-open door. Perfect.
They follow the siren call until they are past the threshold, locked firmly behind plaster and wood. A sigh leaves their lips as they thunk their head against the frame.
That could have gone better.
“Good afternoon, Shadow Milk.”
Sage jumps and whips around, heart hammering against their rib cage. Their eyes jolt from place to place, searching, then landing on a girl dressed head to toe in white.
Mystic Flour Cookie.