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Summary
The Vanilla Kingdom was quiet at night.
Moonlight pooled like spilled milk across the marble floors. Curtains breathed in the breeze. Candles flames trembled softly in their holders.
Pure Vanilla Cookie sat at the edge of his bed, his vanilla orchid staff resting against his shoulder. The eye embedded within it shimmered faintly, sensing more than seeing.
He wasn’t listening to the wind.
He was listening for him.
Waiting.
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