The City of Wizards lay beneath a vast expanse of inky night, its streets silent and unmoving. In the distance, the faintest glimmer of starlight touched the tips of towers, their spires standing like forgotten monuments to a past long gone. Time here was a thing that slipped away unnoticed, almost imperceptible under the cool, constant watch of the moon.
Moonlight Cookie sat alone, draped in the pale light that poured from her golden crescent throne. The moon's soft glow made her hair shimmer—a cascade of silver so brilliant it nearly rivaled the stars above. Her violet eyes, lost in the swirling abyss of the night sky, carried the weight of an eternity.
She was still. In fact, it seemed as though she might have always been this way—immobile, silent, and constantly gazing upwards, as if she could will the past to return by sheer force of will.
The Wizards were gone. The city, once bustling with magic, had emptied out, leaving her to guard its empty streets. She was the last of them. The last of her kind. She had no master. No purpose beyond the silent vigil of keeping watch.
And yet, the longing remained.
It gnawed at her. The endless days spent yearning for a return that would never come. The Wizards—her creators, her family—had left her behind. She had been made to be perfect, to be the unshakable protector of their city, but perfection had not made the pain any less real.
In the stillness of the night, the ache in her chest grew heavier.
"Moonlight?"
The soft voice broke through her thoughts like a gentle wave breaking against the shore. She blinked, coming back to herself, realizing she had been staring at the same patch of sky for longer than she could remember.
Sea Fairy stood at the edge of the moonlit circle, her ethereal form illuminated by the same pale light that enveloped Moonlight. Her presence was a soothing contrast to the stillness—warm and steady, like the ocean’s rhythm. Her ocean-blue hair shimmered with a gentle light, and her eyes, filled with quiet concern, met Moonlight’s with an unwavering tenderness.
"You’ve been sitting here for hours," Sea Fairy said, stepping closer. "It’s not good for you to stay here like this. You need rest."
Moonlight smiled softly, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Rest feels... useless," she murmured, her voice soft, yet distant. "What am I supposed to rest for? There is nothing to guard anymore. No Wizards to protect."
Sea Fairy’s heart clenched at the words. She knew the weight that burdened Moonlight's soul—the never-ending duty she had inherited, the grief of losing everything she had known. But she also knew that Moonlight was far too alone in this.
"You don't have to guard anything, Moonlight," Sea Fairy said gently, her voice soothing as it mixed with the quiet hum of the night. "Not anymore. You don’t have to carry this pain alone."
Moonlight's gaze flickered toward her for a moment, but her eyes quickly shifted back to the stars, as if afraid to linger too long. The void in her heart was too vast for Sea Fairy to fill, and she knew it. Moonlight had built walls around herself, constructed of loneliness and sorrow, so tall and thick that no one could reach her.
"I can't just let go," Moonlight whispered, her voice barely audible. "This city, these memories... they’re all I have left. How could I just forget them?"
Sea Fairy knelt beside her, her fingertips grazing Moonlight's arm in an attempt to break through the ice that had encased her heart. "You don’t have to forget them," she said softly, her tone unwavering. "But you don’t have to carry them alone. You don’t have to keep waiting for something that may never come."
The words hung in the air, heavy and full of emotion. For a long moment, there was silence. The only sound was the soft rustling of the wind, and the distant echo of the night itself. Sea Fairy’s heart ached, her love for Moonlight stretching out like an invisible thread, but the distance between them only seemed to grow.
"I’ve waited for so long," Moonlight whispered, her voice raw, as though the years of holding it all in had finally worn through. "The Wizards are gone. They aren’t coming back."
Sea Fairy could hear the pain in her voice, the quiet desperation that Moonlight had never allowed anyone to see. She reached out again, her hand brushing against Moonlight’s trembling one.
"I’m not them, Moonlight," Sea Fairy said quietly, her heart breaking for the Cookie she loved so dearly. "I won’t leave you. You don’t have to face this alone."
Moonlight’s eyes flickered to Sea Fairy’s hand, and for a brief, fleeting moment, she thought she might give in. But the walls Moonlight had built around herself were strong, and she pulled her hand away, gently but decisively.
"I can’t," she said again, her voice now filled with a mix of sorrow and resolve. "I have to stay. I have to keep watching. I can’t abandon this place... even if it’s empty."
Sea Fairy gazed at her, unable to hide the tears that welled up in her own eyes. She had never wished for anything so deeply, and yet the one thing she could not give Moonlight was the freedom she so desperately needed. The freedom from the past. The freedom to finally live.
"Moonlight," Sea Fairy whispered, her voice shaking, "I want you to be free. You deserve to be happy. To live for yourself."
Moonlight turned her face away, her eyes fixed on the sky once more. She didn’t speak for a long time, the silence between them growing thicker with every passing second.
The stars flickered above them, distant and unreachable. Sea Fairy could feel the ache of a love that could never be fully reciprocated, a love that would forever remain unspoken, trapped in the spaces between them.
And as she stood, ready to leave, the words that lingered between them would remain unspoken, echoing into the empty night.
____________________
The weight of Moonlight's confession hung between them, heavy and suffocating. Sea Fairy watched her, the sparkle of her usual cheer dimmed by the shadows that danced in Moonlight’s eyes. The gulf that stretched between them felt insurmountable, and though Sea Fairy's heart ached for Moonlight, she couldn’t force her way past the walls the other had built.
The ocean waves were still, the quiet contrast to the storm inside Sea Fairy’s chest. Her mind reeled with the weight of what Moonlight had said, with the pain in her voice, and yet, a thought lingered—an impossible hope that perhaps this was a breaking point, a chance to finally see Moonlight’s heart. But could she really help her when the moon had grown so cold and distant?
“I’m here,” Sea Fairy whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. “Even if you’re not the guardian anymore, it doesn’t change how I feel about you. You’re still… you. Moonlight Cookie, the one who shines in the night.”
Moonlight’s shoulders stiffened, and she didn’t turn to face Sea Fairy. Her hands gripped the edge of the moon’s crescent seat as though she were holding herself together with sheer will. “I’m not sure that’s enough anymore,” she replied, her voice strained. “I’ve been so empty for so long… I don’t know if I remember what it feels like to shine. To truly feel like myself.”
Sea Fairy stepped closer, her heart breaking at the sight of Moonlight, who had always been so full of grace and light, now sitting so lost, consumed by the void she carried inside.
“I know it’s hard,” Sea Fairy murmured. She reached out, her hand trembling as she touched Moonlight’s arm, a subtle attempt to bridge the distance that had become too great. “But I believe in you. You don’t have to be alone. You don’t have to carry this burden on your own.”
Moonlight turned her head slightly, just enough for their eyes to meet, the tears in hers shimmering like the light of a thousand distant stars. There was an overwhelming sadness in her gaze—an acceptance that, no matter how much she wanted to keep fighting, she was simply too tired.
“I don’t know if I can be the person you want me to be,” Moonlight confessed softly, the words weighed down with something deep—something raw. “I don’t know if I can be… me again. Not after everything I’ve lost.”
The silence between them stretched, thick and oppressive. Sea Fairy stood frozen, her hand still resting on Moonlight’s arm, unsure of what to say. She didn’t want to lie. She couldn’t promise Moonlight that things would get better, that the pain would fade. But she couldn’t just walk away, either.
Moonlight’s breath caught as she wiped away a stray tear. “I don’t even know what I want anymore,” she admitted, her voice fragile. “Maybe I just… wanted someone to tell me it was okay to not be okay. To let myself feel… something.”
A soft sob escaped her before she could stop it, the sound so quiet but so full of despair that it cut through Sea Fairy’s heart like a blade. She wanted to hold her, to pull Moonlight close and promise her everything would be alright, but the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t promise that when she wasn’t sure herself.
“Moonlight…” Sea Fairy whispered, voice trembling as she gently touched Moonlight’s face. She wiped away another tear, her heart aching with the overwhelming weight of the other Cookie’s sorrow. “You don’t have to carry this alone. I know it’s hard to let go, but please—let me help you.”
But Moonlight didn’t respond. She only closed her eyes, as though the exhaustion of her grief had caught up with her, pulling her into an unwilling sleep. Sea Fairy watched helplessly as Moonlight’s body sank against the moon’s crescent seat, the soft light of the stars reflecting in her tear-streaked face.
Sea Fairy remained by her side, her heart heavy with an unspeakable pain, but also with a quiet determination. She would stay, even if it felt like everything was falling apart. She would stay because Moonlight deserved to feel the warmth again, to remember what it was like to be more than just a guardian.
Even if Moonlight didn’t believe it, Sea Fairy would remind her.
____________________
Moonlight’s breaths were shallow, her chest rising and falling in slow rhythm. Sea Fairy watched her, her heart heavy in her chest as she considered the fragile figure before her. She hadn’t realized just how deeply Moonlight’s sadness ran, how much she was carrying beneath the veneer of her celestial grace. Sea Fairy had always admired Moonlight Cookie for her otherworldly beauty, the grace she exuded as she stood under the moon’s glow. But now, she saw how much of that elegance was just a mask, a way to hide the exhaustion and sorrow that weighed her down.
The moon above seemed to shimmer in sympathy, casting soft light that filtered through the clouds. It was as though the stars themselves were holding their breath, waiting for Moonlight’s next move. And yet, despite the vast expanse of the night sky, the moonlight felt incredibly small and isolated in this moment. Moonlight Cookie, the guardian, the one who stood watch over the City of Wizards for so long, was now sitting in a hollow of her own creation, unable to find the strength to face the dawn.
Sea Fairy didn’t know how long they sat there, the quiet stretching between them, thick and painful. Her hand never left Moonlight’s arm, even as she remained still, uncertain of what to do next. She wanted to say something—anything—that could help her. But the words felt inadequate, too fragile to bridge the distance that now lay between them.
Moonlight stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open. For a moment, she didn’t move, simply gazing at Sea Fairy with those wide, vulnerable eyes, as if searching for something in her. Sea Fairy’s heart twisted in her chest, unsure of what to say but knowing that silence was not enough anymore.
“You don’t have to be alone, Moonlight,” Sea Fairy whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “Please… let me help you.”
Moonlight’s lips trembled, and her gaze dropped to her hands. “I don’t know if anyone can,” she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t even know how to be the person I used to be anymore. I don’t know how to carry the weight of this city, of all that’s been lost.”
Sea Fairy swallowed the lump in her throat. “I don’t care about the city, or what’s been lost. I care about you. And if you’re struggling, if you feel like you’re falling apart, you don’t have to face that alone. I’m here. And I always will be.”
Moonlight’s eyes fluttered closed again, her body sinking slightly against the moon’s crescent throne. Sea Fairy could see the weariness in her posture, the tension in her shoulders as though the very act of being awake was a battle in itself. She wanted to pull Moonlight close, to offer the comfort she so desperately needed, but the space between them felt like an insurmountable chasm.
And yet, Sea Fairy’s hand remained steady on Moonlight’s arm, a simple anchor in a sea of turmoil.
“I’m just so tired,” Moonlight whispered, the words barely audible as she curled into herself, her back arching slightly as she tried to find some comfort in the darkness. “So tired of watching over this place. Tired of waiting for something to change, for something to bring back the wizards. I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Sea Fairy. I don’t know if I have anything left to give.”
The words struck Sea Fairy like a blow, and she could feel the ache in her chest deepening. She had never seen Moonlight so broken, so vulnerable. The other Cookie had always seemed to stand apart, a pillar of grace and strength—yet here she was, stripped bare, exposed in ways Sea Fairy couldn’t have imagined.
But even as her heart ached for Moonlight, Sea Fairy couldn’t help but wonder if this was the moment they needed. If Moonlight’s breakdown, her fragile state, was the only way to truly connect with her. To break through the walls she’d built, the walls Sea Fairy had always felt were there but couldn’t understand.
“Moonlight…” Sea Fairy whispered again, her voice trembling. “You don’t have to be everything. You don’t have to keep being the guardian, the protector. You can let go. I promise you, I won’t let you fall.”
Moonlight’s body tensed at the words, and Sea Fairy could feel the sharp inhale that followed. For a long moment, nothing changed—then, slowly, Moonlight lifted her hand, reaching out to touch Sea Fairy’s. Her touch was cool, almost cold, as if the chill of the night had seeped into her very soul.
“I’m scared,” Moonlight said, the words catching in her throat. “I’m scared that if I stop, if I let go, everything will crumble. Everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve fought for, will disappear. And I… I don’t know if I can handle that.”
Sea Fairy’s grip tightened on her hand, holding her firmly, but gently. “You don’t have to carry it alone. You don’t have to carry it at all. Let me help you, Moonlight. Please.”
There was a long silence after her words. Moonlight didn’t speak, and Sea Fairy wasn’t sure if she was waiting for an answer or if she was simply allowing the words to settle in her heart. But finally, Moonlight’s voice broke the stillness, softer this time, like a whisper lost in the winds of the night.
“I don’t know if I can let go,” she admitted. “I don’t know if I can trust that you’ll be here, that you won’t leave me like everyone else has.”
Sea Fairy’s heart shattered at the words. She wanted to argue, to tell Moonlight that she would never leave her, that she would stay by her side no matter what. But the doubt in Moonlight’s voice was impossible to ignore. The pain, the fear, the grief—Moonlight had been alone for so long that the idea of someone staying felt almost foreign to her.
But Sea Fairy wasn’t going anywhere.
“I won’t leave you, Moonlight,” she said, her voice fierce, unwavering. “I’ll stay. Even if it takes forever, I’ll stay. You don’t have to face this alone anymore.”
Moonlight finally turned to face her, the vulnerability in her eyes raw and aching. “I want to believe you,” she whispered.
“You can,” Sea Fairy whispered back, her heart pounding in her chest. “You can believe me.”
The moon above them seemed to shine a little brighter, casting a soft glow over the pair as they sat together, both broken and whole in their own ways. It wasn’t a solution—there was no simple answer to all the pain that lingered between them—but in that moment, Sea Fairy knew one thing for certain.
She would never let Moonlight be alone again.
____________________
The silence between them stretched, fragile as gossamer, with Moonlight’s head resting against Sea Fairy’s shoulder. Her breath was slow but uneven, as if the weight of the world had taken a permanent residence in her chest. The moonlight above them flickered slightly, as if uncertain about the path that lay ahead, casting shadows over their shared moment of stillness.
Sea Fairy’s heart felt heavy. She had promised to stay. She had promised to be the one who wouldn’t leave, the one who would help Moonlight through the storm, through the crushing weight of her loneliness. But even now, as they sat together in the quiet of the night, Sea Fairy could feel the distance between them—an invisible rift that grew wider every moment, every whispered word of comfort that felt more like a plea.
Moonlight stirred slightly, lifting her head from Sea Fairy’s shoulder, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. There was a look in her gaze now, something distant, something unreadable.
“I can’t keep doing this,” Moonlight said, her voice thick with sorrow and resignation. Her eyes were wide, her face pale in the dim light, and there was an unfamiliar coldness to her tone—a finality that sent a sharp pang through Sea Fairy’s chest.
“You don’t have to,” Sea Fairy whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of her unspoken thoughts. “Let me carry it with you. Let me help you bear this.”
But Moonlight shook her head slowly, her gaze falling to the ground as if avoiding Sea Fairy’s eyes would somehow make it easier. “No... I can’t let you. I can’t pull you down with me.”
Sea Fairy’s heart skipped a beat. “Moonlight, don’t say that. Don’t shut me out.”
Moonlight’s lips trembled, the raw pain in her voice shattering Sea Fairy’s resolve. “I’ve lost so much already. I’ve held on to so many things… I don’t know how much more of this I can take. And if you stay, I’ll lose you too.” Her voice cracked, the weight of those words threatening to crush her.
Tears welled up in Sea Fairy’s eyes, but she held them back. She couldn’t let herself crumble—not now. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said fiercely, even though a pit of dread was forming in her stomach. “I won’t leave you. I’m here, Moonlight. I’ve always been here.”
Moonlight’s eyes met hers, but there was something broken in them, something that Sea Fairy couldn’t reach. “You don’t understand,” Moonlight whispered. “No one stays with someone like me. Not forever. It’s too much. All I’ve ever done is protect, watch over others… and in the end, they leave, or worse, they break. I’ve always been alone in this, and I will be again. If I let you in… it’ll destroy you, too.”
Sea Fairy’s heart felt like it was being torn apart. Her voice broke with emotion as she pleaded, “Please, don’t do this. Don’t shut me out. I love you. I’ve loved you for so long… Please, don’t push me away.”
The words were out before she could stop them. They hung between them, fragile and raw. And for the briefest moment, Moonlight’s expression flickered—her eyes softened, her lips parted as though she wanted to say something, but the words never came. Instead, she turned away, her shoulders shaking as a sob broke free from her chest.
“I’m sorry,” Moonlight whispered, her voice barely audible. “I wish I could let myself believe that. I really do. But I can’t. I can’t do this again.”
Sea Fairy reached out, desperate, but before she could touch Moonlight, the sky above them cracked with a sudden, deafening sound—a violent flash of light splitting the sky in two. Both Cookies turned, startled, as the world around them seemed to tremble, the ground shaking beneath their feet. The moon, once shining so brightly above them, was now obscured by swirling clouds.
“What is—?” Sea Fairy’s voice trailed off, fear rising in her chest.
Moonlight didn’t answer. She was already standing, her face pale as she looked toward the horizon, her body trembling as the first hints of an ominous glow filled the air.
“They’re coming,” Moonlight whispered, her voice hollow. “They’ve come for me.”
The words were like a death sentence. Sea Fairy’s stomach dropped as she saw the familiar silhouettes in the distance—dark shapes moving with unnatural speed, closing in on them.
“No,” Sea Fairy whispered, her heart racing. “What’s happening, Moonlight?”
“I don’t know,” Moonlight replied, her voice barely audible, as if the weight of the situation had stolen her words. “I didn’t think they’d come for me this soon. But they are…”
Suddenly, Moonlight turned to face Sea Fairy, her expression more determined, more resigned than it had ever been.
“Go. Please. I need you to leave now. They won’t stop until I’m—until I’m gone.”
Sea Fairy shook her head, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What are you talking about? I’m not leaving you! We’ll fight. We’ll figure this out together.”
But Moonlight’s gaze hardened, the sadness in her eyes turning to something darker, something desperate. “It’s too late for that. I can’t protect you from them, Sea Fairy. I can’t protect anyone anymore.”
“Moonlight, no!” Sea Fairy cried, reaching out as if trying to hold onto the last thread of hope. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’ll stay, I swear to you—please.”
Moonlight’s hand shot out, grabbing Sea Fairy’s arm with a strength that shocked her. Her touch was cold, like death itself. “You’ll die if you stay. Please, just go. I’m begging you.”
Sea Fairy stared at her, her heart breaking in two. The words tasted like ash, bitter and final. She opened her mouth to protest, but Moonlight’s grip tightened, her eyes now filled with unspeakable sorrow.
“I love you, Sea Fairy,” Moonlight whispered, the words fragile and shuddering in the air. “But you need to go. I can’t let you die because of me.”
And before Sea Fairy could respond, Moonlight turned away, her figure vanishing into the darkness. The faintest outline of her silhouette was swallowed by the shadows, the sky now pulsing with an ominous glow as the figures closed in around her.
“No…” Sea Fairy’s voice broke, her hands reaching out for Moonlight, but the distance was too great. She had been too slow.
Moonlight was already lost to her.
A tear slipped down Sea Fairy’s cheek as she stood there, rooted to the spot. The world seemed to stretch in endless silence, the threat of the unknown looming in the distance, and her love for Moonlight now a fragile, broken promise.
The wind howled, and somewhere in the distance, the night sky trembled as if it, too, mourned what was coming.