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hevexns-realm · 2 days ago

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Holy shit this is good, talk about a dark academia themed fanfic wrapped in CRK. I may have to read the rest of it!! :0

In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 31

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“Then tell us,” Chai urged, leaning in eagerly. “Start from the beginning. Did he shapeshift?”

You groaned. “No. Apparently, I have to wait until he decides I’m ready or until the stars align or something else equally cryptic and frustrating.”

“Oh come on,” Chai pouted. “I wanted the reveal.”

“So did I!” you said, gesturing with your spoon. “I even wrote a very convincing essay.”

“She did,” Earl Grey confirmed without looking up. “We peer-reviewed it.”

Hazelnut snorted. “He’s really not going to do it?”

“He said he will,” you muttered, “just not yet. ‘The time will come,’ he says. Whatever that means. He even gave me terms.”

“Terms?” Chai echoed, eyes sparkling.

“Everything’s dramatic with him,” you deadpanned.

Chai grinned. “That’s why we like him.”

You didn’t comment.

You just took a bite of your roll before continuing.

“And then,” you said, mouth half-full, “he lectured me.”

All three of them turned to look at you.

“Lectured you?” Hazelnut repeated.

“For what?” Chai asked.

You gave them an exaggerated look. “Apparently, using magic while emotionally compromised is ‘reckless’ and ‘irresponsible’ and ‘a potential threat to the fabric of academic safety’ his words, not mine.”

Earl Grey raised an eyebrow. “Were you emotionally compromised?”

You paused.

“…A little.”

Hazelnut blinked. “So you were reckless.”

“I was controlled reckless.” You shot him a look. “I had threshold sigils. I cast in an empty classroom. I didn’t even levitate anything larger than a pencil. It was fine.”

“And yet he scolded you,” Earl said dryly.

“Of course he did,” you huffed. “But what was I supposed to do? Argue with him? That’s like trying to out-walk a dimensional loop. You just end up where you started, dizzy and full of regret.”

Chai laughed, handing you a napkin like a mother would to her child who just finished venting. “Well, I’m glad you’re still in one piece. He cares, you know.”

“I know,” you said, voice softer now, “but stars, he’s so annoying when he lectures. It’s like he’s disappointed in you philosophically.”

Hazelnut let out a quiet chuckle. “That’s honestly impressive.”

You sighed and leaned your head against the back of the chair. “Anyway. That’s what happened. No shapeshifting. No dramatic reveals. Just me getting emotionally flattened and then scolded for being emotionally flattened.”

Earl finally looked up, one brow raised. “So a normal tutoring session, then.”

You gave him a long, slow look.

And then you laughed.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “A completely normal one.” You shoved another bite of your roll into your mouth, chewed once, then let out the kind of exasperated sigh that only came from deep, long-suffering annoyance the kind laced with too much affection to truly be mad.

“I mean seriously,” you said, muffled slightly through the bread, “he is so annoying sometimes.”

Chai Latte Cookie’s eyes lit up. “Go on.”

“No, really.” You pointed at her with your half-eaten roll. “He’ll say the most frustrating, vague thing imaginable, like, ‘truth is not a gift but a burden carried only by those willing to lose comfort,’ and then just leave the room. Like he dropped a philosophical landmine and vanished before the blast radius.”

Hazelnut Biscotti chuckled. “He does like his monologues.”

“Understatement,” you grumbled. “And you know what else? He waits. He lets me struggle with something until I ask for help and then goes, ‘ah, so you’ve arrived at the question.’ Like no! I arrived at a mental breakdown, actually!”

Chai was now giggling into her cup, utterly delighted.

“Oh, and he’s always doing that thing,” you went on, “where he answers a question with another question. I asked him if a particular spell matrix could be adapted for kinetic reflexes and he said, ‘must all magic be adapted, or must we be the ones who adapt?’ Like. Sir. Please. I’m just trying to pass my class.”

Earl Grey, sipping his tea calmly, said without looking up, “That does sound like him.”

“Right?!” you threw your hands up. “And don’t even get me started on how he never gets flustered. I make a dumb joke, he just stares at me like I’ve said something tragic. I cry in his office? Calm. I nearly set a desk on fire? Calm. I quote him back to himself and he somehow turns that into another teaching moment”

“I’m sensing a pattern,” Hazelnut muttered.

You weren’t done.

“And he walks like he’s narrating the rise and fall of empires! I swear, he doesn’t even blink unless it’s in metaphor.”

Chai had to clutch her side now from how hard she was laughing. “Stop! you’re gonna make me choke-”

“I can’t!” you groaned dramatically. “He’s the most annoying person I’ve ever liked.”

That silenced the table for exactly one beat.

“…Liked?” Earl Grey asked, very calmly.

You blinked. Realized what you said. Froze.

And then took a very aggressive sip of your water. “Academically.”

“Mhm.”

“Sure.”

“Undeniably.”

You slammed your head gently into the table with a groan.

Why did being right about everything have to come with so much composure and mystique?

Why couldn’t he be normal?

You sighed, still face-down. “I hope he trips over air.”

“That does seem statistically possible,” Earl mused.

“Unfortunately,” you mumbled, “he’d just land poetically.”

Chai patted your back, wheezing. “It’s okay. We support you. And your very annoying, possibly immortal, beautiful crush, lover and everything in between.”

You muttered something into the table.

And somehow, it still felt better to say it out loud. You lifted your head off the table with a groan, pushing your tray forward like it personally offended you. “Look I know he cares. I know he was worried. But stars, the lecture? He made it sound like I broke into the Nightmare Archive and tried to cast a curse on the moon.”

Chai snorted into her tea. Earl Grey didn’t even blink. “Did you?”

“No, Earl, I tested levitation while slightly sad. Apparently, that’s emotional recklessness now.”

Hazelnut Biscotti raised an eyebrow over his cup. “So why don’t you just tell him that?”

You blinked at him. “Tell him what?”

“That he was being overdramatic.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Glared. “Because it’s like arguing with a philosopher who also holds your academic future in his elegantly gloved hands.”

Hazelnut shrugged. “You’re his partner. You could be honest.”

“I am honest!” you snapped.

“You’re honest with us,” Chai pointed out, swirling her spoon. “With him, you do that thing where you say everything with a smile and a deflection and then cry about it to us later.”

You slumped again. “Okay. First of all, rude. Second of all… accurate.”

Earl Grey gave a sage nod. “And just to clarify you are, indeed, still partners?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

They all stared at you.

You threw your hands in the air. “Fine, yes, we’re still partners. He clarified it. We clarified it. It’s not ambiguous. That’s not the issue.”

Chai leaned in. “Then what is?”

You groaned again. “The issue is that he is too composed. I get in trouble and instead of yelling, he delivers a monologue like he’s on stage at the Hall of Enlightenment. And then-then he ends it with something painfully heartfelt that makes me feel like I’m the villain for having feelings!”

Hazelnut raised both hands in surrender. “Just say all that.”

“Say what?!” you cried. “Hey, sorry for risking magical instability, but also your compassionate lecture made me feel like I’d been emotionally dissected under a microscope of eternal understanding?”

Chai nodded solemnly. “Exactly like that.”

You groaned and dropped your head into your arms again.

“I swear,” you muttered, “if he wasn’t the most annoyingly ethereal man I’ve ever met, I’d be furious.”

Hazelnut patted your back. “You’re furious anyway.”

“Exactly!” you hissed.

Earl Grey, without looking up from his tea, muttered, “It’s called love.”

You made a strangled noise and sank deeper into your seat.

Chai leaned over, grinning. “Don’t worry. We’ll help you draft that essay too.”

You lifted your head just enough to glare at your plate, determination already beginning to glow behind your eyes like the first spark of a revenge-fueled fire.

“There’s no need for an essay,” you said flatly. “I’ll just be extra annoying next time. That’ll teach him.”

Earl Grey let out a quiet sigh, already rubbing his temple. “You’re being petty.”

“Absolutely,” you said, not even pretending to deny it.

Chai Latte Cookie blinked, taken aback for a moment. “I mean… yeah. That is a little petty.”

You turned to her with mock offense. “You? Taking the moral high ground? You gossip about faculty relationships like it’s your research thesis!”

“Yes,” she said, smugly sipping her tea. “But my chaos is elegant.”

“Wow,” you said, deadpan. “Betrayed in my hour of need.”

Hazelnut Biscotti, however, leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand. “Personally? I think it’s an incredible idea.”

You pointed dramatically at him. “Thank you. Finally, someone with taste.”

He smirked. “I say you turn every statement into a question, answer questions with vaguely related anecdotes, and mispronounce magical terms just slightly wrong.”

“See?” you said, eyes gleaming now. “That’s the kind of strategic mischief I need.”

Chai rolled her eyes. “You’re both ridiculous.”

“And yet,” you said with a smug smile, “he’ll never see it coming.”

Earl Grey gave you a long, unimpressed look. “He will. He always does. He’ll know exactly what you’re doing.”

You shrugged. “Good. That’s the point. He’ll be too composed to call it out.”

Chai sighed, but she was already smiling again. “Well, when he does catch on and retaliates by assigning you a twenty-page reading on magical ethics, don’t come crying to us.”

“I’ll just come complaining to you,” you said brightly.

Hazelnut Biscotti raised his glass of water in a toast. “To weaponized pettiness.”

You clinked yours against it.

“Cheers.” You reached dramatically across the table and pulled Hazelnut Biscotti into a firm, exaggerated hug, your cheek squished against his shoulder as if you were mourning the tragic downfall of society itself.

“Only you understand me now,” you declared. “My one true ally. My partner in petty crime.”

Hazelnut snorted but didn’t pull away. “I live to serve.”

You turned just enough to glare at the other side of the table. “As for you two”

Chai Latte and Earl Grey both raised their brows in perfect, unimpressed synchronization.

“you’ve forfeited your friendship rights,” you said, pointing accusingly with all the flair of a betrayed noble. “Cast me into the storm, why don’t you.”

Chai gave you an unimpressed look, resting her chin on her palm. “You’re being so dramatic.”

“You encouraged me yesterday!”

“That was different,” she said. “That was romance. This is mischief.”

Earl Grey sipped his tea, stone-faced. “There is a difference between love-fueled chaos and vengeful pettiness.”

“And I embody both,” you retorted, still half-draped on Hazelnut like a martyr.

Chai rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“You loved me once.”

“We still do,” Earl said calmly, “but now we’re also documenting your descent.”

“I prefer my descent,” you muttered, pulling back into your seat with flair. “It builds character.”

Hazelnut just patted your back once and murmured, “We’ll get revenge in footnotes.”

You beamed at him. “You get me.”

Chai shook her head. “Stars help the Sage.”

Earl just returned to his tea, deadpan. “He’ll need it.” The chaos and dramatics simmered down into the warm lull of familiarity as dinner wore on, the air rich with food, flickering lanternlight, and that easy cadence that only came when your friends stopped being just people and became part of your rhythm.

“So,” Chai Latte Cookie said suddenly, flipping her hair over her shoulder and leaning in like she was about to confess something far more scandalous than it actually was, “guess where I went earlier today.”

You arched an eyebrow. “If this is another Moonvine Pavilion incident-”

“No, no,” she waved you off. “Much tamer. I went to the old observatory. The upper balcony was finally open again.”

Earl Grey glanced up. “You went there alone?”

She shrugged with a little smile. “Well, someone has to take a break from pretending their lab equipment isn’t slowly developing sentience.”

“I only did that once,” Hazelnut Biscotti muttered, cutting into his food. “And the readings were inconclusive.”

Chai pointed a triumphant finger. “Exactly.”

Earl Grey let out a long-suffering breath. “Speaking of that Hazelnut’s experiment did short-circuit the mana resonance grid this morning. The whole lab smelled like toasted lavender for twenty minutes.”

“It was one time,” Hazelnut grumbled. “And it’s not my fault the reagents reacted like that. The chart was off.”

“It wasn’t off,” Earl said. “You just flipped the transmutation schematic vertically.”

Hazelnut looked mildly betrayed. “You swore you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“I said I wouldn’t tell Professor Chamomile,” Earl said smoothly. “This is not just anyone.”

You and Chai both snorted.

“So you’re out here flipping diagrams,” you teased, nudging Hazelnut with your elbow, “and I’m the reckless one?”

“I was experimenting under proper supervision,” he defended.

“With yourself as the supervisor?” Chai said, giggling. “Yeah, I do that too when I want to justify something completely unhinged.”

Hazelnut gave up trying to defend himself and focused on his food instead. “You’re all traitors.”

“You still love us,” you said sweetly.

Chai sipped her tea with a grin. “So what did you see from the observatory, anyway?”

“Oh, the view was gorgeous,” she sighed dreamily. “You could see the moonstone glinting over the Hall of Enlightenment. And the clouds were this soft lavender-gray like someone smudged the sky with chalk. I stayed for an hour just writing. There’s this corner nook with a cracked pillar that makes the perfect seat.”

Hazelnut glanced over. “You wrote? What, like poetry?”

“Maybe,” she said, a bit too casually.

Earl raised an eyebrow. “Will you share?”

She hummed. “Not unless you tell me how you really feel about Professor Star Anise’s new robe collection.”

You gasped. “Don’t you dare gatekeep poetry from us for robe gossip.”

“Oh, I’m very petty,” she said, sipping her tea again, pinkie raised. “It’s why we get along so well.”

The table broke into laughter, your earlier frustrations forgotten for a little while, lost in the warmth of stories and the ease of good company.

This… this was the best kind of normal. Dinner ended like most good things did at Blueberry Yogurt Academy, with laughter still trailing in your lungs, your chest lighter from the weight of shared stories, and the warmth of your friends cushioning the ache that still lingered somewhere; where logic couldn’t quite reach.

But the moment your tray clattered into the dish return and your feet hit the polished stone of the main hallway, you ran.

Not from anything.

But toward something.

That familiar ache had stirred again beneath your ribs, the kind that needed quiet to soothe, the kind only your favorite place could soften. The Garden. The willow trees. You needed it.

“Hey!” Chai Latte Cookie’s voice echoed behind you, laughter still in it. “Wait, where are you going?!”

“Don’t run after dinner,” Hazelnut called. “You’ll get cramps!”

Earl Grey didn’t say anything, but the click of his polished boots against the stone meant he followed anyway.

You turned a corner sharply, halfway through calling out something teasing

And stopped.

Dead in your tracks.

They were already there.

Camellia Pith Cookie stood at the center, arms loosely crossed, looking as though she belonged to the architecture itself, elegant, immovable, part of the Academy's legacy by sheer force of bloodline.

Serrano Bark Cookie lounged just behind her, their robe trailing artfully over the stair rail like they’d positioned themselves for maximum aesthetic disdain.

Fennel Drizzle Cookie was closest to the wall, fingers brushing against a stack of books he clearly wasn’t reading.

All three turned as if they’d been waiting.

You stumbled back a half step before your friends caught up, Chai coming to a stop just behind you, eyes narrowing, and Hazelnut skidding to your other side, his jaw already tense.

Earl Grey arrived last, calmly, as though sensing the shift before the rest of you had. His posture stiffened by degrees.

The air turned cold.

“Well,” Camellia said, with a sharp little smile, “isn’t this a charming reunion.”

Serrano’s eyes flicked to you, then your friends. “Out for an evening jog? Or just chasing after something elusive again?”

You didn’t answer.

Not yet.

Not with your heart hammering. Not with that old, twisted pressure coiling in your stomach again. Not with their words wrapping themselves in silk just to slice deeper.

Chai was already stepping forward, her voice low. “What do you want?”

Camellia’s gaze didn’t shift. “Oh, nothing at all. We were simply enjoying the view. It’s so rare we see the four of you together without the Sage looming like a shadow.”

Your blood ran a little colder.

Fennel let out a soft, fake laugh. “I wonder how long that will last.”

You clenched your hands, heart still racing. This wasn’t the first time. You’d seen them in darker corners. You knew what they could turn a moment into. But something about their calm now it was worse.

They weren’t loud.

And that made it so much harder to breathe. You didn’t flinch this time. Not the way you had the last time you stood across from them. Your pulse still pounded, still crawled its way up your throat but you stood your ground, the echoes of your friends behind you like an invisible shield.

You looked at Camellia Pith Cookie, then Serrano Bark Cookie, then Fennel Drizzle Cookie in turn, and let your voice cut through the tense quiet like tempered glass.

“…It’s not worth it,” you said simply. Not unkind. Not with venom. Just… tired. “Whatever this is. Whatever you’re trying to get out of it.”

Camellia’s lips twitched, but not into a smirk this time. It was something cooler. Quieter. “You misunderstand,” she said. “There’s nothing to gain anymore.”

Serrano tilted their head slightly, their gaze unreadable. “We’re not here to drag this out.”

Fennel folded his hands together loosely in front of him, almost like it pained him to speak. “We came to say… we understand. That is all.”

You blinked.

Chai stiffened beside you. “That’s it?”

Camellia Pith Cookie’s voice was smooth, composed, practiced. “Consider it an acknowledgment. Of boundaries. Of consequence.”

Hazelnut’s jaw flexed. “And guilt?”

“No,” Serrano said plainly. “Just prudence.”

“Prudence,” Earl Grey echoed. “Of course.”

You might’ve left it at that. Might’ve stepped around them, said nothing more. But just as your foot shifted, Fennel Drizzle Cookie glanced at you only you and flicked his fingers once in a gesture you recognized.

A minor cloaking spell. Private resonance. No sound. No trace.

Only you heard it.

Only you felt the chill.

“Be wary of Shadow Milk Cookie.”

Your breath caught, subtle but sharp.

Fennel’s voice was low, firm, lacking any edge of cruelty or arrogance. It wasn’t soft. But it wasn’t venomous either.

“I’m telling you this not out of pity. Not out of some newfound moral clarity. I don’t like you. But I do respect the power you walk beside. And that power is not kind.”

“He is a dangerous presence. If anger ever got to him like that again… or worse…”

He trailed off for a breath.

“If there comes a day when there is nothing anchoring him nothing holding his restraint, I don't want to imagine what would follow.”

Your mouth was dry.

You couldn’t respond not with the spell still in place. Not without drawing attention. But your fingers clenched faintly at your side.

“We’ve learned our lesson. Humiliation teaches well. But you need to learn something too.”

“You are not beside an ordinary scholar. You’re standing too close to someone whose will shapes magic itself. And if the day comes where he loses himself… no one, not even you, will be able to pull him back.”

The spell broke.

A soft pulse of magic, gone like breath in the wind.

Camellia Pith Cookie nodded once. Not respectfully. Not apologetically. Just… finally.

And then she turned, robe catching in the golden light as she walked away.

Serrano followed without a word.

Fennel lingered only a moment longer before he too turned and vanished with them down the corridor and into shadow.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you let it go.

The air still buzzed faintly.

Chai was the first to speak, her voice tense. “What was that?”

You didn’t answer.

Not yet.

Because whatever it was… it wasn’t over. You stood there for a moment longer, still watching the corridor where the three of them had vanished. The echo of Fennel’s voice still clung to the inside of your skull not cruel, not mocking, but clear and cold like frost on glass. Not a threat.

A warning.

Your fingers twitched at your side, but you didn’t let the others see.

Chai’s hand hovered near your elbow. “That was weird. That was really weird. What did he say to you?”

You blinked, then shook your head gently, as if trying to scatter the remnants of the spell like dust.

“Don’t dwell on it,” you said softly.

Hazelnut Biscotti frowned. “They practically cornered us. They don’t get to act cryptic and self-important and then slink away like-”

“Don’t,” you said more firmly this time, cutting him off with a look. “It’s not worth it.”

Earl Grey studied you carefully. You could feel his eyes tracking every shift in your posture, every uneven breath. But, to his credit, he didn’t push.

Chai looked like she wanted to. Her brow was furrowed, her lips pursed, hands half-raised like she didn’t know whether to hug you or interrogate you but she didn’t press either.

“…Okay,” she murmured, even if it clearly went against every bone in her very inquisitive body. “Okay. We won’t.”

Hazelnut finally exhaled through his nose and nodded once. “But if they try again, we will say something.”

“I know,” you said, quieter now. “Thanks.”

The four of you turned together then, heading in the direction you’d originally intended toward the garden, your bench, the place where the sky always opened up just enough to make the Academy feel less heavy.

You didn’t tell them what Fennel had said.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Because you weren’t sure what scared you more the warning itself…

…or the part of you that wondered if it might be true. The four of you walked in silence.

The kind that sort of settles in when words feel too small, too clumsy. The path to your favorite spot wound through lantern-lit archways and mossy stone, where the air grew quieter and the breeze gentler with every step. Your friends let you lead without question, even if they didn’t fully understand why.

The Academy Gardens welcomed you like always.

The willow trees swayed overhead, their luminous leaves shifting in slow, glowing waves. The reflecting pool mirrored the deepening twilight sky, broken only by the occasional ripple of some ethereal, koi-like shape gliding just beneath the surface.

You found your usual bench and sank down slowly, your shoulders finally loosening just enough to exhale.

Chai Latte Cookie settled beside you without a word. Hazelnut Biscotti stood nearby with his hands in his coat pockets, staring off at the water. Earl Grey Cookie leaned against the nearest stone archway, arms crossed, watching the wind stir the branches overhead.

You didn’t say anything at first.

You just watched the light play along the edges of the pool, your thoughts running loops that even you couldn’t quite untangle.

Fennel Drizzle Cookie's words lingered, not as a shout or a haunting echo, but as a soft, persistent hum, a half-formed question that followed you like a melody without a resolution.

Be wary of Shadow Milk Cookie.

It wasn’t new, the knowledge of his power. You knew what he was capable of. You’d seen the way his voice could still a room, how even the wildest magic seemed to fold itself at his command like it was born of his will.

But hearing someone else say it aloud someone who had no reason to care about your safety had settled something cold in your chest.

You didn’t fear him. Not like that.

But you feared what would happen if he ever stopped holding himself back.

If the truth his truth ever stopped being tempered with love.

“…You okay?” Chai asked softly.

You nodded once.

Then, almost in a whisper, you said, “I’m just thinking.”

Hazelnut Biscotti glanced over. “About them?”

You hesitated. Then shook your head. “No. About… everything, I guess.”

Earl Grey didn’t speak, but you could feel the weight of his attention. Like he was silently acknowledging that everything covered a lot more than you were willing to admit.

Chai leaned her shoulder gently against yours, not saying anything more.

And for a while, you all just stood there or sat there quiet and still, beneath the soft swaying trees. The garden holding space for you like it always did.

Not asking questions.

Just letting you be.

You watched the koi-light flicker across the surface of the water, barely visible beneath the soft veil of willow branches. The silence sat long enough that your own thoughts started to echo too loudly in your ears.

So you broke it.

Voice low, but steady, you said, “Fennel Drizzle cast a privacy spell. Just before they left.”

That got their attention. You didn’t need to look to know the shift Chai’s subtle inhale, Hazelnut straightening, Earl Grey’s eyes sharpening in full focus.

“He told me…” you began, then stopped. The words felt like glass in your mouth. You swallowed. “He told me to be wary. Of Shadow Milk Cookie.”

Nobody interrupted. You were grateful for it.

“He said,” you continued, eyes still locked on the pool’s gentle ripples, “he wasn’t saying it out of kindness. That he doesn’t like me, and he probably never will. But he said it b-because the Sage is dangerous. Not just powerful. Dangerous.”

You shifted, glancing briefly at your friends before returning your gaze to the water.

“He said… if the day ever comes where he loses himself, really loses himself, then no one not even me will be able to pull him back.” You wet your lips. “And that he didn’t even want to imagine what that would look like.”

The air around the bench thickened.

You looked at them now, properly, finally voicing the question that had been sitting in your chest since the moment Fennel’s spell dissipated

“…Do you think that’s true?”

Chai was the first to move. Her brows were furrowed, her arms crossed over her chest, but her voice was steady. “I think… Fennel’s dramatic. But maybe not wrong.”

Hazelnut Biscotti looked uncomfortable, but thoughtful. “He’s not just any scholar. And we’ve all seen what he’s capable of. That kind of control… it takes restraint.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know if he’d lose it, but… I believe he could.”

You turned to Earl Grey last.

He didn’t answer right away. He was staring into the reflecting pool, the soft light catching the sharp angle of his cheek.

“…There’s truth in what Fennel said,” he murmured. “But not the kind that should make you afraid.”

Your breath caught. “What do you mean?”

Earl turned his eyes to you. “It’s not about fearing him. It’s about respecting the depth of what he carries. Knowledge. Power. Self-restraint. He walks with truths none of us could bear. And if he ever did fall into something beyond himself, yes it would be terrifying.”

He paused. “But it would never come from cruelty. Only grief.”

You sat back slowly, processing the weight of that.

“Then…” you said, quieter now, “what am I supposed to do with that?”

Chai reached over, threading her fingers briefly through yours. “You stay. You learn. You watch.”

Hazelnut added, “And you trust yourself.”

Earl Grey nodded. “You don’t need to save him from himself. Just be the one who reminds him who he is.”

You stared at them for a moment.

Then, slowly, you nodded.

It didn’t erase the warning in your heart.

But somehow, it made it bearable. The question slipped out before you even realized it had formed soft, uncertain, far quieter than your usual tone.

“If he ever did,” you murmured, “if he really got to that point… where he wasn’t himself anymore. Where restraint slipped, and there was nothing anchoring him…” You swallowed, eyes fixed on the shimmer of the reflecting pool. “What should I do?”

None of them spoke right away.

Even the breeze seemed to hesitate.

Then Earl Grey Cookie shifted slightly, the faintest crease forming between his brows. “Are you asking what you should do as someone close to him, or what anyone could do?”

You looked over at him, heart heavy. “Both.”

He nodded once, slowly, as if considering every possible version of the future before offering anything.

“Then I’ll tell you this,” he said, quiet but firm. “If that moment ever comes and stars willing, it never will you act not as a student, or a partner, or even a scholar. You act as someone who remembers who he is. Not who he becomes in a moment of collapse, but who he’s been every day since you met him.”

You listened, hands clenched together in your lap.

Chai Latte Cookie’s voice came next, soft and careful. “You don’t run from him. But you don’t stand against him, either not unless you have to. You talk to him. You remind him. And if that doesn’t work…” she hesitated. “Then you protect what you can. Yourself first. Then everyone else.”

Hazelnut Biscotti leaned forward, arms on his knees, his tone more grounded. “If he’s as powerful as they say and I believe he is then it won’t be about spells or force. It’ll be about connection. If there’s anyone who could reach him, it’s you. But if it’s too late… then you leave it to those who can contain him.”

That sent a chill down your spine.

“But what if I’m the only one who can?” you whispered.

The weight of that question hovered over all of you.

Earl Grey looked at you again, gaze unreadable but not unkind. “Then you do everything you can… without losing yourself in the process. But you should never have to carry that burden alone. You’d still have us.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of stone and jasmine and starlit air. The kind of scent that reminded you of his study. Of quiet nights bent over notes. Of a touch on your shoulder when your thoughts spiraled.

Of him.

You opened your eyes again.

“I hope that day never comes,” you said quietly.

Chai squeezed your hand. “It won’t.”

But you all knew that wasn’t a guarantee.

Still… it was something.

A hope. A promise. A place to begin. It would have to be enough.

Earl Grey had been watching you carefully for a while now so quietly, so steadily that when he finally moved, it startled you just a little. He stepped forward, just one pace closer beneath the willow’s softly glowing canopy, and glanced over his shoulder to check the path behind you all, the garden beyond.

No one was around.

The hush of the garden held steady, unbroken.

And then, with a movement so deliberate and familiar it made something ache in your chest, he reached out… and took your hand.

Not like a handshake.

Not like a gesture between adults bound by formality.

But like he used to, when you were younger, when the world felt too loud and you didn’t have the words for what was hurting. Like he did back when your failures felt world-ending, and you needed someone not to fix it but to remind you that you weren’t alone.

His hand was warm and steady in yours.

“We’ll follow you to the ends of the earth,” he said softly, like it was just a fact not something to be proved, but something that already was.

You blinked hard, throat tightening.

Then you felt another presence, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, stepping behind you, resting a hand gently on your head.

“We’ve seen you through worse,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “And if it gets worse than this… we’ll still be there.”

Chai didn’t say anything at first, but she reached for your other hand, threading her fingers through yours like she needed the contact too.

Earl Grey gave your hand a small squeeze.

“This isn’t about your connection with him,” he said. “It’s about our connection with you. It’s always been you. Our friend. Our center. No title or power or danger is going to change that.”

You looked up at them at all of them and for once, you had no quip, no joke, no sarcasm to soften the moment.

Just quiet, raw gratitude.

And a heart that finally felt like it could rest.

You were safe because you were never walking alone.

Hazelnut Biscotti’s hand remained resting gently on your head, the warmth of it grounding, steady in a way few things in your life ever were. You could feel the weight of his thoughts, just behind the silence as if he were still choosing his words, carefully, like always.

Then, quietly, he said, “You know… orchids don’t bloom easily.”

You glanced up at him, surprised.

He didn’t look at you, not directly. He just watched the koi-light ripple across the pool, his fingers still resting against your hair.

“They’re picky. Slow to trust their surroundings. Need very specific care. A certain kind of light. Just the right amount of water. Most people give up on them before they ever bloom.”

You stayed quiet, listening.

“But when they do?” He let out a slow breath. “They’re unlike anything else.”

Your breath caught just faintly.

Hazelnut’s voice stayed soft, low, like he wasn’t saying it for anyone but you. “That’s why I gave you that keychain. That little orchid pendant.” He gave a faint, almost self-conscious smile. “It reminded me of you.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came.

“You’re still growing,” he added, tone warm but careful. “Still figuring things out. But you’ve survived more than most. You’re stronger than you know. You bloom anyway.”

Your fingers curled gently around Earl Grey’s, still holding your hand.

Chai gave your other hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes shining just a little too much in the glow of the lanterns.

And Hazelnut, as if sensing how close to the edge his words came, pulled back just enough not away from you, but enough to let the silence settle.

“Just don’t forget it,” he said, soft and steady. “You’re more resilient than you think.”

You looked at the keychain in your bag later that night.

And you held it a little closer than usual.

The next morning crept in softly no harsh alarms, no knocking at your door, no urgent reminders from your friends in the courtyard. The golden light from the enchanted windows filtered through the curtains with a gentle hush, as if even the sun knew you needed the world to slow down.

You dressed slowly, not with purpose, but out of habit. Your bag sat by the door, untouched. Your books were still stacked in a careful pile on your desk, untouched. You were supposed to be in lecture. Supposed to be listening to Professor Almond Custard explain high-tier spell efficiency matrices. Supposed to be scribbling half-thoughts and messy diagrams into your notes.

But instead… you walked.

You didn’t leave a note. You didn’t message Chai or Hazelnut or Earl Grey. You didn’t even tell yourself why you were doing it.

You just slipped into the halls of Blueberry Yogurt Academy as though you belonged in that silence. And for the first time in a long time, no one tried to stop you.

The corridors were quieter than usual still humming with distant energy, still kissed by light through stained glass windows, but not filled with footsteps or conversation.

You passed by murals of constellations painted in motion across the ceilings, heard the faint buzz of distant lecture halls far down the wings, and watched the lanterns sway gently with no breeze.

Every step echoed just enough to remind you you were alone.

And that was… fine.

You weren’t sad, exactly.

Just full.

Full of words you hadn’t said. Of questions you hadn’t asked. Of warnings still crawling beneath your skin, half-buried.

Fennel’s voice. The Sage’s restraint. Hazelnut’s orchid. Earl Grey’s promise. Chai’s gentle grip on your hand.

It all swirled in your head, each thought folding into the next.

What would you do if he ever lost control?

What could you do?

You didn’t want to think about it. And yet you did. Over and over.

Your feet eventually took you past the Hall of Enlightenment, the massive moonstone at its center casting an ethereal glow that made your shadow stretch like a memory across the marble floor.

And still, no one asked why you weren’t in class.

No one pulled you back.

The Academy breathed around you, vast and unknowing, and for once, you just let yourself exist inside it not as a student, not as a partner, not as a scholar trying to prove their worth.

Just as you.

Quiet. Wandering. Thinking.

The day passed slowly. And that, somehow, was exactly what you needed.

It was probably a bad idea.

Okay no. It was a bad idea.

The kind that, if Shadow Milk Cookie ever found out, would launch you straight into a spiraling lecture about rules, responsibility, magical consequence, and your absolute inability to sit still when a mystery dangled just out of reach.

But… what if it was worth it?

You found yourself standing in the grand antechamber of the Nightmare Archive, heart ticking like a second hand against your ribs.

The library was mostly empty most scholars were in class, or already tucked in the upper levels doing research for sanctioned projects. You knew this timing well. You’d passed through these halls enough times to know when the nightshift enchantments began to fade, and when the light-sensitive wards would be sluggish.

And down beneath the Archive, behind a crooked iron gate marked with symbols most couldn’t read… was the forbidden wing.

Its real name had long been swallowed by history, buried beneath decades of restricted access, decommissioned shelves, and off-the-record whispers. The official signs simply read Authorized Scholars Only. The unofficial signs, carved into the edges of the old stone stairwell, said things like Memory is not always kind, and Some truths are best left unread.

Naturally, that only made you want to read them more.

You glanced around once more. The librarian had stepped away. No one was watching.

Just a peek, you told yourself. Not even for long. Just enough to know what’s down there.

The gate creaked when you touched it but didn’t resist.

And you were already stepping past it before you could talk yourself out of it.

The air was colder beneath the Archive.

Thicker.

Bookshelves lined the corridor like twisted roots, the tomes on them older than most buildings on campus. Dust stirred like memory with every breath you took. Sigils glowed faintly across the ceiling tracking you, perhaps, or maybe just watching. You didn’t know. That was part of the thrill.

You walked slowly, fingertips brushing spines that hadn’t been touched in generations. Titles long faded. Scripts that didn’t belong to any known language. Threads of magic that felt like they remembered being dangerous.

And part of you whispered

Maybe there’s something here. Something about immortality. Something about Soul Jams. Something about what would happen… if he ever lost control.

Maybe answers.

Or maybe the kind of truths you weren’t meant to carry yet.

Still… you moved deeper.

Carefully.

Quietly.

And maybe, just maybe, you would find the question you didn’t yet know how to ask. Your breath caught as your eyes swept the shelf books without titles, some bound in cracked leather, others stitched with threads that shimmered like veins. Everything down here felt alive, like the Archive itself was holding its breath, waiting to see what you’d do.

You hesitated only a second longer before your hand darted out.

The spine you picked was small. Plain. Bound in a dark, nearly colorless cloth, its surface soft with age. There was no title, no sigil, no trace of what might lie within. It didn’t glow. It didn’t hum. It didn’t even feel magical.

Which, somehow, made it worse.

Or… better.

You didn’t stop to think about it.

You took it.

And then you ran.

The way you’d move in a dream where something followed you but didn’t chase. You darted past the shelves, past the faint glow of ancient wards, past the carved words etched into the stone like quiet warnings. Your feet barely made a sound against the worn floors, breath tight in your chest.

No alarms.

No shrieking enchantments. No glowing glyphs springing to life behind you.

Nothing stopped you.

No one saw.

You crossed the iron threshold of the restricted gate and stepped back into the quiet hush of the upper Archive. The light here was warm again, golden. Familiar. The same space you’d walked through countless times, now unchanged.

Except your pulse was still racing.

You slipped the book into your bag like it was smuggling a piece of storm.

And just like that

You’d done it.

No one stopped you.

So it was okay… right?

You told yourself it was fine.

That you’d read it slowly, cautiously. That you wouldn’t do anything reckless.

You wouldn’t tell anyone.

You’d just… learn. Quietly.

Because surely the truth no matter how hidden was meant to be found. As soon as the heavy wooden doors of the Archive closed behind you with a soft thud, you didn’t stop to breathe.

You ran.

Past the marble columns. Past the whispering tapestries and polished floors. Past students emerging from class, some of whom turned their heads just enough to watch you rush by with your bag clutched tightly against your side.

But you didn’t look at them.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t stop.

Your heart thundered in your chest as your boots echoed through the inner walkways of the Academy, slipping between beams of late-morning sun filtering through stained-glass windows. You passed a familiar courtyard, a familiar statue, a hallway that usually slowed your steps but not today.

Because in your bag nestled between your notes and pencils and leftover sweets from Chai was something forbidden.

You reached your dorm and fumbled with the key, breath shaky and uneven. The door opened, creaking just slightly, and the moment it shut behind you, the world exhaled.

Silence.

Not the kind that hung heavy like in the Archive but a safer quiet. One you knew.

You dropped your bag onto your bed and pulled the book out carefully, almost reverently. It looked so small now in the morning light. Just a book. Just cloth and string and parchment, worn with time.

But the air around it still felt strange. Like the magic in the room knew something had changed.

You sat down on the edge of your bed, the book in your lap, staring at it.

It hadn’t protested.

It hadn’t tried to flee your hands or writhe with curses or trap you in a vision.

But your hands still trembled.

Because whatever it held whatever truth had been tucked away in that shadowy corner of the Archive was now yours.

No one knew.

Not yet.

And maybe, if you were careful enough… no one would.

You stared at the book in your lap a moment longer, as if waiting for it to pulse. To glow. To whisper your name in a forbidden tongue. But it did none of those things.

With slightly clammy fingers, you opened the cover.

The parchment inside was yellowed and dry, the ink faded in places, some of it handwritten, some scrawled in diagrams that looked like they had been redrawn over and over again until they lost meaning. There were no chapter headings. No clear subject. No title page.

Still, you read.

First page nothing but a cluster of old runes, some of which you recognized. Most you didn’t.

You flipped.

A diagram of a vessel a body, maybe? The aura around it was drawn in concentric lines, but the labeling was in some dialect that predated modern magical notation. You squinted, trying to decipher it. “Stability… anchor… containment?”

You turned the page again.

Paragraphs. Notes. Names of scholars you’d never heard of. Mentions of something called the Glass Vein whatever that meant. You read through symbols that shimmered faintly if your eyes passed over them too quickly, but never held long enough to burn.

Flip.

More rambling. A section on consciousness displacement half-erased. A scribbled formula with a margin note that simply read, not again.

Flip.

More sketches of nothing you recognized. More runes. More abstract theories scrawled in between jagged lines and fading notes.

The next page was blank.

And the next.

You let out a breath.

Nothing so far about Soul Jams. Nothing about immortality. No secret to preserving one’s body. No grand revelation about what might happen if a scholar of incredible power snapped.

And yet… you couldn’t stop flipping the pages.

It felt like digging through someone’s mind after they’d long since stopped speaking a scholar who never meant to be read, whose thoughts had outlived their voice.

And while none of it made perfect sense… something tugged at you. A feeling.

Not that the book had answers.

But that you were reading something that shouldn’t have been left behind.

Still, as you neared the end, your shoulders slumped.

“…Nothing,” you murmured to yourself, flipping one last page.

But just as you were about to close the cover

A slip of paper, brittle with age, slid from the inner binding and fluttered to your lap.

It wasn’t labeled. It wasn’t marked.

Just a small, pressed page.

And on it, a single line written in cramped, almost frantic handwriting:

“Immortality is not life without death. It is life without rest.”

Your heart paused.

It didn’t answer anything.

But it made something inside you go very, very still. You held the slip of paper delicately, afraid it might crumble between your fingers if you breathed too hard.

“Immortality is not life without death. It is life without rest.”

It wasn’t just ominous. It was deliberate.

The handwriting was uneven quick, like it had been written in a rush. Maybe even desperation. Ink had soaked too long into one of the strokes, a small blotch left at the tail end of the word rest. Whoever had written it hadn’t cared for elegance. They’d wanted the words remembered.

You turned it over.

Nothing on the back. No name. No mark of ownership. Not even the faint shimmer of an enchantment. You brought it up to the light near your desk, angling it to see if there was any hidden ink any trace spell, or even a ward designed to erase it once read.

Still nothing.

Just parchment. A single thought. Uncomfortably honest.

It made your skin prickle.

You read it again. The phrasing gnawed at something deep in your chest. Life without rest. The words shouldn’t have struck you as hard as they did.

But they did.

Wasn’t that the opposite of what you wanted?

To stay by his side, to remain unchanging, untouched by time so that one day, decades from now, you wouldn’t be just a memory he once cared for?

You wanted immortality to mean safety. Continuity. A future that didn’t end in goodbyes.

But this…

This made it feel like a warning.

You set the note down, carefully, and looked back at the book.

Still just paper. Still a jumble of fragmented thoughts, scrawled diagrams, and maddening half-truths. Most of it unreadable. The rest of it meaningless, maybe.

But now you had it.

And you weren’t going to return it.

It wasn’t just the risk of being caught. It was something else. Something unspoken. This book, and the strange note within it… it felt like a thread. One that tugged at the edge of something you couldn’t yet see, but somehow knew was real.

You tucked the slip of paper into a safer spot between your notebooks. Folded the book shut and slid it into the space beneath your bed, where moonlight wouldn’t reach it. Where no one would find it unless they really went looking.

You didn’t know what you’d do with it yet.

But it was yours now.

And a small, persistent thought whispered in the back of your mind

What if this was just the beginning?

You stared at the slip of paper one last time read the words again, “Immortality is not life without death. It is life without rest.” but this time, you didn’t linger on them.

No answers. No formulas. No secret arcane technique to preserve your soul or body. Not even a single mention of Soul Jams. It was nothing more than a cryptic, poetic warning scribbled by a scholar who probably lost their mind scribbling in the dark.

You let out a slow, disappointed breath.

So much for forbidden knowledge.

You picked the book up, its worn cover now dull in your hands, and quietly knelt by your bed. With a gentle shove, you slid it under, letting the shadows swallow it into the dusty quiet. You weren’t going to return it doing so would mean explaining where you got it, and that wasn’t worth the risk.

But it also… wasn’t worth thinking about right now.

Not when it gave you nothing.

No immortality. No reassurance. No plan. Just that tired, ominous sentence that did nothing to soothe your fear of endings.

You straightened, brushed the dust from your palms, and looked around your dorm room with a sigh. The same quiet desk. The same stack of notes. The same little orchid pendant Hazelnut had given you, still dangling from your lamp.

For all the effort, the adrenaline, the thrill of slipping past the Archive’s ancient boundaries… you had nothing to show for it.

And you hated how much that bothered you.

You just wanted answers. Something to give you a foothold in a world where the people you loved might stay unchanged, untouched by time, while you…

You shook your head. No use spiraling.

You pushed the thoughts down, let them settle somewhere deep. Somewhere where you could ignore them until they stopped itching behind your ribs.

Then you sat back down at your desk, pulled open your notes from Professor Almond Custard’s class, and got back to work. Not before deciding to head out running out of your dorm room.

The late morning air bit gently at your cheeks, crisp and clean like something freshly unwrapped. The skies above Blueberry Yogurt Academy were streaked with rose-gold light, the kind that made the whole world feel half-asleep and a little more forgiving.

You hadn’t told anyone you were skipping your classes again not Chai, not Hazelnut, not Earl Grey. But maybe they’d understand. Or maybe they’d find out later when you told them where you’d gone. After all, this was something the four of you often did on quiet Sundays, chasing quiet thrills across forbidden paths.

Today just… felt like one of those days.

The path to the Astral River wound low through the lesser-traveled grounds, carved between old ruins and patches of spell-tinged moss. You kept your pace steady, hands tucked into your sleeves, head low as if secrecy might make your thoughts lighter.

And sure enough just like always he was there.

The Ferryman.

His skeletal form stood waiting at the river’s edge, scythe resting lazily against one bony shoulder. The tattered cloak around him shifted as though caught in a breeze only he could feel, his wide-brimmed hat tilted slightly askew. The crosshatch pattern on it shimmered faintly in the morning light, like the ghost of a star-map etched in shadow.

He turned as you approached, and if a skull could smile, he was certainly doing it now.

“Ahh…” he intoned, voice echoing hollow and dry, but with warmth nonetheless. “A solo traveler today. No Earl Grey to sigh at my jokes? No Chai Latte’s laughter? No Hazelnut to grumble about my riddles?”

You gave him a half-shrug, trying to keep your tone even. “They’re busy. I’m not.”

“Ohoho,” he chuckled, tapping the butt of his scythe against the ground. “And so you come seeking what, exactly? Solace? Danger? Or simply the taste of quiet rebellion?”

You rolled your eyes. “Just a walk.”

He leaned forward, bones creaking with the movement. “And what will you offer me today, little wanderer? I’m afraid I must ask for payment. No coin, of course what would I do with that? No, no... a tale. A thought. A whisper of truth.”

You crossed your arms. “If I tell you something, you won’t repeat it?”

“I am a ferryman,” he said, raising his hand in a solemn, if theatrical vow. “Not a gossip.”

You hesitated… and then, quietly, you murmured, “I tried to find something forbidden yesterday. Something about… staying.”

His bones seemed to still at that.

“Did you find what you sought?” he asked gently, his voice no longer amused.

You shook your head. “No. Just a warning. Something bleak. Something empty.”

He was quiet for a long moment. The wind whispered over the water behind him.

Then, slowly, he raised his scythe and tapped it once against the surface.

The water shimmered, rippled then stilled, hardening to that familiar glassy sheen.

“Then perhaps,” he said softly, “what you seek cannot be found in words left behind. Perhaps it is something only you can write.”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone.

Then he stepped aside and bowed low. “Shall we walk, little scholar?”

You nodded.

And with that, you stepped onto the Astral River.

Each step echoed lightly beneath your feet, as if you were walking on light itself. The water shifted gently beneath you, gleaming in pale shades of violet and gold. Mist curled around your ankles, and behind you, the Ferryman walked, as always his scythe glinting faintly under the morning sun.

“Tell me a story,” he said. “Something only you could tell.”

You weren’t sure where to start.

But maybe… that was the whole point. You walked the Astral River in silence for a while, the Ferryman trailing just behind you, humming something soft and tuneless. The river shimmered beneath your feet cool but stable, a path not made of stone or magic but permission. The Ferryman didn’t ferry people across so much as allow them to walk the impossible.

And so you walked.

“I’ll tell you a story,” you said eventually, your voice steady despite how your breath curled visibly in the morning chill. “But you can’t interrupt.”

“Oh hoh,” the Ferryman chuckled, his bones creaking as he tilted his head. “Demanding, are we? Very well. My scythe is sealed. My lips figuratively zipped.”

You took another step, the ripples gliding out in every direction. The Ghost City shimmered faintly on the horizon now its silhouette like a forgotten painting, towers softened by mist, lights like memories too stubborn to fade.

“It’s about a scholar,” you began, “who was never meant to be much of anything.”

The Ferryman said nothing.

“They weren’t top of their class. Not remarkable. They got things wrong more than they got them right. But they kept showing up. Kept asking questions. Kept... hoping someone would see something in them worth noticing.”

You paused, your eyes scanning the horizon, voice lowering.

“And then one day... someone did.”

The river beneath you pulsed gently as you walked, like it heard your story and was keeping pace with your words.

“This scholar wasn’t ready. Not for what came after. Not for the weight of being seen. It felt like stepping into a truth too large to hold one that made their own reflection look smaller, not bigger.”

You drew your cloak tighter around your shoulders.

“But they kept going. Because the one who saw them… believed in them. And they started to believe, too.”

The Ghost City drew closer now. You could see the faint shapes of bridges arching over phantom canals. Streets paved in fractured light. The twisted shadows of long-lost towers.

“They still don’t know if they’re worthy,” you admitted. “Or if they ever will be. But they’ve stopped asking whether they deserve to be there. Now they ask what they can learn. What they can do. How they can stay.”

You stopped just before the end of the Astral River, where the water met the ghostlit edge of the city.

The Ferryman, for once, said nothing. Just watched you with the steady calm of someone who has seen too many stories take root at the edge of the unknown.

You turned back slightly. “There. That’s my story.”

He bowed, deeply, the brim of his hat dipping low over the emptiness where his eyes should be.

“And a fine one it was,” he said softly. “Earnest. Unfinished. And utterly yours.”

You stepped forward once more, into the Ghost City where the streets curved like memories and the air hummed with old spells, and where, just for a while, you could walk without needing to understand everything.

Some stories didn’t need to end. They just needed to continue.

A/N I've been absent for quite some time, well, rest assured I am alive, I had a lot of things come my way this past month, things I couldn't have possibly planned for. It felt like everything I’d balanced on quietly came undone beneath me, and I was left standing in the aftermath of a life I didn’t recognize. I won't delve into too much detail but just know there was no way for me to come online I just had no time for anything even myself. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter happy reading!

I appreciate everyone concerned for my well-being, I think once I was able to access my account, I teared up from the sweetness of it all. I couldn't have asked for a better community to be a part of thank you all so much truly.

I would say more but I have to wake up for work tomorrow. And if there are any errors pls ignore them TWT editing is not my forte.

anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥

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#cr kingdom #cookie run #crk #cookie run kingdom #cookierun kingdom #shadow milk #crk shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie crk #shadow milk crk #dark academia #this is good!!! :0

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