Cipher stepped through the door, and the world shifted around him.
The air was thick with sugar, so sweet it pressed against his lungs, coating his tongue with an invisible frost of flavor. He tasted it reflexively, a faint crunch under his boot as he moved forward. The ground cracked like glass beneath him, shards of crystalized sugar glinting in colors that shouldn't exist: deep cherry red, electric blue, pale lemon yellow. A thin film of sticky syrup caught between his fingers as he brushed it off a branch—but the taste made him recoil immediately. Too sweet. Clinging. Nauseating in its perfection.
The trees were impossibly tall, their trunks smooth like caramel logs, twisting toward the sky in crooked spirals. Leaves shimmered like spun sugar, glistening, dripping with sticky droplets that reflected the pale, eerie light of a sky that seemed to hover between dusk and dawn. Some of the branches leaned close as if inspecting him, vines of licorice curling like serpents at the edge of his vision. When he looked away, the shadows between them writhed slightly, like the forest itself was alive, testing him.
Cipher's boots crunched again, and a faint sigh of sugar glass echoed behind him. He bent to taste a shard of crystalline candy lying on the path—curiosity overpowering caution. The shard melted instantly on his tongue, sweet to the point of choking, leaving a bitter aftertaste that made him spit and wipe his mouth. Even the sweetness of this world carried menace.
He straightened, scanning the maze-like terrain. Paths twisted, doubled back, and vanished as he approached. A small stream of liquid chocolate ran beside him, glinting and thick, but when he tried to step across a flat stone, it shifted beneath his weight, nearly sending him tumbling into sticky darkness. Every step required attention. Nothing here obeyed natural rules.
The air was filled with soft whispers, barely audible. Not the Fades yet, just the story murmuring, as though the land itself remembered the tale it had once told:
The girl burns. The boy fattens. The story ends.
Cipher swallowed, recalling Red's story, and a chill slid down his spine. The same echoes, the same inevitability—but something in this world felt different. Louder. Darker. More… alive.
A gummy vine snapped against his arm. He glanced down to see a cluster of candy critters, rat-sized and chocolate-coated, wriggling like insects. Their eyes glimmered like coal. They scuttled away, disappearing into the sugar-crusted foliage. The forest was alive in ways that were meant to unnerve.
He pressed onward. The paths seemed to loop, and the forest subtly resisted him. Bridges of hardened caramel appeared, leading in one direction, only to dissolve if he hesitated. Licorice roots stretched across his path at impossible angles, their ends curling like fingers ready to grab. A misstep here could mean slipping into syrupy pits or plunging into the chocolate stream.
Still, he moved with purpose. Each footfall was careful but deliberate. His scythe hummed faintly on his back, runes flickering with starlight. Even here, the power within it resonated with the corruption of the world, guiding him forward without revealing too much.
As he ventured deeper, the colors and shapes became stranger. The forest opened into a clearing, and there, at its center, a bridge of candy cane arched over a molten sugar pit that hissed and steamed like a living furnace. Above, the sky twisted into caramel clouds streaked with crimson light. The air vibrated faintly, like the pulse of a heartbeat—but whose heartbeat, he couldn't tell.
The whispers intensified. They were no longer vague murmurs; they formed phrases now, curling into the edges of his mind:
Take control. Obey the story. Feed the boy. Burn the girl. The story must end.
Cipher clenched his jaw. The familiar pull of destiny, the same he had felt in Red's story, tried to tug at him. But this time, it felt heavier, more resistant—as though the story itself had teeth.
He moved cautiously along the bridge. Each step made the candy arch beneath his feet groan. He could see his reflection in the molten sugar below: a tall figure in grey, white hair catching the twisted light of the forest, scythe poised, eyes sharp. The reflection seemed warped, almost alive, twisting slightly to mimic something he wasn't doing.
Ahead, the forest's maze-like pattern shifted again. Paths behind him disappeared, replaced by towering sugar spires, some smooth, some jagged like broken teeth. A stream of syrup bubbled noisily, carrying fragments of broken candy leaves and shards of crystallized sugar like debris from a storm.
Cipher paused, tasting the air again—barely, just a hint—and spat. The sweetness lingered. It was artificial, corrupted, like the very essence of the story itself had been altered. Even his scythe hummed faintly in warning, sensing the malice embedded in the sugar-laden world.
A rustle drew his gaze to the shadows of the candy trees. Fades—small, faceless humanoid shapes—emerged from the sugar-laden foliage. They watched silently, standing still, only the faint shimmer of sugar dust around them betraying their presence. They did not approach, but their eyes—or the places where eyes should be—followed him, measuring, waiting.
Cipher kept moving, careful to remain aware of his surroundings. The path narrowed. Licorice vines dangled from above, twisting and writhing. Some snapped lightly, brushing against his arms, leaving faint burns that tingled unnaturally. He took a cautious step over a puddle of molten chocolate, noticing shapes moving beneath its surface. Candy-coated rodents, or perhaps something darker, disappeared before he could focus.
Hours—or perhaps minutes—passed in this disorienting maze. There was no sense of time here, only the oppressive weight of sweetness, the constant whispers, the ever-shifting candy landscape. And then… he stumbled.
Cipher's foot caught on something hidden beneath the sugar-crusted ground. He pitched forward, arms flailing, and nearly fell into a pit of syrupy chocolate. When he righted himself, his eyes met the source of his stumble: a doorframe emerging from the twisted candy terrain.
At first, it appeared simple: a modest arch of gingerbread, the edges dripping with thick caramel. But as he stepped closer, the structure revealed itself to be larger, massive, almost impossibly so. Windows shimmered like molten sugar, the walls breathed slightly as though inhaling and exhaling. The roof sagged under weighty chocolate tiles that shifted subtly when touched by light or shadow.
It was the Witch's house.
Cipher's scythe tingled across his back. The runes along its length glimmered, sensing the story's heart—the source of its corruption. Faint whispers curled around him, insistent and sharp:
The girl rules. The boy obeys. The story twists. The Teacher will come—but it may be too late.
Cipher swallowed, his breath heavy with the thick sugar air. He could feel the pulse of the tale emanating from the house, a heartbeat that wasn't human, wasn't alive in any normal sense. It was a story with teeth, and Gretel—the girl—was no longer helpless.
He crouched slightly, scanning the twisted candy path leading to the doorway. Fades lingered like ornaments in the sugar-laden trees. Licorice vines quivered, as though aware of his presence. And somewhere inside, Hansel continued to eat, unaware.
Cipher stepped forward. One foot, then another. Every movement measured. Every sense heightened. The world itself seemed to resist him, yet also draw him in, a combination of trap and lure.
Finally, he stood at the base of the massive candy doorframe, gazing up at the house that had consumed so many stories before. The house exhaled a faint hiss of heat, sugary scent thickening, the windows glowing with a warmth that was both inviting and deadly.
Cipher exhaled slowly, gripping his scythe. The whispers fell silent for a moment, as though the world itself was holding its breath.
And then he took the first step inside.