The candy house groaned as though alive. Walls of sugar pulsed with a sickly glow, frosting dripped like sweat from its roof, and the air smelled unbearably sweet—so cloying it burned the throat. Cipher stood at the center of it, his scythe's faint star-runes shimmering against the pink light, one hand outstretched toward the trembling girl before him.
"Gretel," he said, voice steady despite the chaos rumbling around them. "You don't have to listen to her."
The Witch's laugh slithered through the house like smoke. Her form wavered in the corner of the room, sometimes tall and cloaked, sometimes a shriveled silhouette pressed against the wall. Her words dripped like syrup."Don't listen? Oh, poor thing… without me, what are you? Just a frightened little girl who once pushed a woman into the fire. That's your nature. Destruction. Survival. You need me."
Gretel clutched her head, the red sugar-glass mask that had fused to her skin cracking faintly under the pressure of her hands. Her voice wavered. "She… she kept me alive. When the story broke—when the forest turned silent—I had nothing but her whispers. Without them, I…" She shuddered. "I'd be nothing."
Cipher stepped closer, his coat brushing against a wall that oozed chocolate like blood. He ignored it. His gaze stayed on her. "That's not true. You are something already. You're Gretel. Not the Witch's shadow. Not a puppet. You."
The Witch hissed. The house rumbled in anger, and the candy floor split open in jagged lines. From the cracks, licorice vines surged upward, black and writhing. They lashed toward Hansel, who lay limp and dazed in a corner, his eyes glassy from the story's corruption.
Gretel reacted instantly. She raised her hands and the vines froze midair, quivering as if caught between obedience to her and obedience to the Witch. Beads of sweat ran down her face. "I can't… I can't hold it. She's stronger."
Cipher's voice sharpened, not cruel but commanding—like a teacher refusing to let his student give up on a problem. "Stronger? No. She only has as much power as you give her. Tell me, Gretel—why are you stopping those vines?"
She gasped. "Because… because they'll hurt Hansel—"
"Exactly." Cipher stepped closer, the starlight on his scythe flaring. "Not because she told you. Not because you're forced. You made that choice."
The vines writhed violently, snapping free of her control and striking again. This time Cipher moved, the scythe's long curved blade sweeping in a single arc. The runes blazed and the vines disintegrated into motes of shadowy sugar. He planted the weapon beside him like a standard, its weight steadying the shifting floor.
"Look at me, Gretel," Cipher said, lowering his tone. "I'm not here to command you. I'm here to remind you: your will is your own. The Witch can whisper, but only you decide."
Her breath hitched. For a moment, something human flickered behind the cracks of the sugar mask.
The Witch screeched. "Decide? She did decide! She chose fire once before, and it burned her story into ash! Why pretend otherwise?" The room trembled violently, shelves of gingerbread collapsing in sticky heaps. From the shadows, candy golems formed—gingerbread torsos with peppermint jaws, hollow eyes glowing with sickly light. They lurched toward Hansel first.
Cipher swung his scythe, severing one at the waist. But three more lumbered past him, teeth gnashing. He cursed under his breath—not at the creatures, but at time itself. He couldn't be everywhere at once.
"Gretel!" His voice cut sharp as a blade. "You want to protect him? Then choose. Not with rage. Not with her whispers. With your own will."
Her hands trembled. The Witch leaned close to her ear, whispering like a lullaby."Destroy them. Tear them apart. Feel their sugar shatter in your hands. That is strength."
Cipher's words met hers like iron. "No. Protect, don't destroy. Restrain, don't consume. Teach yourself what you were never taught. You can choose another way."
The golems neared Hansel. Gretel screamed, throwing her arms out. The walls of the house convulsed, peppermint shingles peeling like leaves in a storm. Licorice vines whipped outward—not to strangle this time, but to ensnare the golems' limbs. The candy monsters froze, bound in place by Gretel's power.
She fell to her knees, panting, tears streaking her cracked mask. "I… I didn't break them. I only stopped them." She looked at her hands as though seeing them for the first time. "That was me. Not her."
Cipher lowered his scythe, his expression softening just slightly. "Yes. That was you."
For the first time, Hansel stirred. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but only a faint rasp escaped. His eyes, though cloudy, turned toward his sister. That tiny act—acknowledgment—seemed to strike Gretel harder than any lash of the Witch's voice.
The Witch shrieked, the sound like glass grinding against glass. Her shadow contorted on the walls. "Ungrateful child! Do you think you can escape me? You are mine—you were always mine!" She stretched her form across the ceiling, claws scraping against sugar beams. Fire roared in the oven at the room's heart, flames spilling out like a beast's maw.
Cipher lifted his scythe again but didn't strike. Instead, he raised his other hand toward Gretel, steady, unshaking. "You hear that? That's not truth. That's fear. She fears you growing beyond her."
Gretel looked at him, trembling. "But what if I fail again? What if… what if I hurt Hansel instead?"
Cipher's voice was quiet now, yet it carried with a weight more immovable than stone. "Then you learn. That's what it means to be human. That's what it means to be a student. Failing doesn't make you hers—it makes you yours."
The Witch's body writhed in fury, but her power faltered. The flames sputtered, the golems' forms sagged into piles of frosting. The house itself shuddered like a sick beast losing its grip.
Gretel's mask cracked further. A chunk of hardened sugar splintered off and fell to the floor. Her face beneath was pale, fragile, but undeniably hers. She reached toward Hansel, who weakly lifted his hand in return.
Cipher exhaled slowly. For the first time in this corrupted tale, the air didn't feel sickly sweet. There was space to actually breathe.
But reprieve was not a victory. The Witch's laugh slithered back, low and venomous."Fine. Let the teacher preach. Let the girl pretend. But this story is mine, and I will not be written out so easily."
Her shadow retreated, folding into the oven's flames. The fire roared higher, the oven door bulging outward as though something far worse pressed to emerge.
Cipher's eyes narrowed. He raised the scythe and rested it across his shoulders, glancing once at Gretel. "That choice you made? Hold onto it. Because the next trial will try to rip it from you."
Gretel clutched Hansel's hand, whispering through her tears, "I won't let her take me again. Not if you're here to remind me."
The house groaned louder, the oven glowing like a sun. Shadows stretched unnaturally long across the sugar-stained floor.
The next trial was already waking.