Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter I 

 broken by the truth

(Ah yes classic poem ha💸ha💸ha💸)

NOBODY'S POV.

The snow in the Dark cacao kingdom is still the same. Even softer? Maybe. Ever since the return of lord Dark cacao, the battle of his other soul and the disease that spread within the kingdom. Everything was heading to the good and calm way. And his awakening that added the atmosphere even more. Yet again nothing lasts forever.

CARAMEL ARROW COOKIE'S POV.

Everything was going alright. I mean we returned from Beast Yeast and his majesty's power risen after he fought that beast. The plague was now over. Thanks to someone who gathered the herbs when we were away. 

The second watcher ran to me and Crunchy Chip. I was confused on why he sprinted like that. Not when we were having a good time. Was it something bad? Maybe.

"First watcher Caramel Arrow cookie! I found an sword near an cave. It's covered in jam and had a trial. I think.. it's the same sword that the prince used to attack our king." Second watcher explained to me.

"I'm sorry.. the same sword? With.. jam near it. Maybe he got hurt. Or.. possibly crumbled. I'll inform this news to our king while you and Crunchy Chip cookie retreat the sword to his majesty." I commanded.

"OF course. Crunchy Chip?" Second watcher asked while I made my way to our kings room.

"Got it." Crunchy Chip cookie responded his answer was enough for me to hear it from afar.

DARK CACAO COOKIE'S POV.

An peaceful day at my kingdom. The snow was like an kiss to me. All though not all cookies have the same opinion. I was near the meeting room. Walking around in your own kingdom can be prideful sometime. But then I heard an shout.

"YOUR MAJESTY!" First Watcher Caramel Arrow Cookie said. Running in my direction. She stopped near me.

"First Watcher. Any reason on why you running around looking for me?" I asked. It came out harsher. I think.

"Second watcher had informed me that the same sword the prince used to attack you was found in a cave. I don't really know much but he  informed me that the sword had jam near them. And an trial of jam. Crunchy Chip Cookie and Second Watcher are going to the location to bring it here." Caramel Arrow Cookie said to me. Dark Choco Cookie? Jam? Strawberry Jam Sword? That's bad. I haven't seen him properly after the incident. I do remember him coming to me before I went Berserk. It's still an new memory to me. But the trial of blood is making me have bad feeling.

"I see. Bring it to the meeting room. And I'll examine it myself" I said.

"OF course your majesty" Caramel Arrow Cookie said.

CRUNCHY CHIP COOKIE'S POV

Me and Second Watcher ran the location. I was forced to slow down to follow him. It pains me but whatever. And at last. We found the cave. It was.. an big cave I tell ya. I ran inside ignoring the Second Watcher and.. there it was. The Strawberry Sword or whatever it's name is. It did had an jam. A LOT OF JAM. Was he killed? No way. No. I was given a white blanket. We hold the sword, Second Watcher was holding it by the holder and I was holding the sharp edge. It was heavy but not HEAVY FOR ME. Father like son I guess.

We carried it to the kingdom. The forest was endless to us. Every second felt like years. And entered the castle. Caramel Arrow was waiting for us. The two of us placed the sword at the meeting table while his majesty was looking at it. 

NOBODY'S POV.

The sword that had a red colored gem. And covered in jam. The king went through books. While the three read everything about the sword.

"YOUR MAJESTY!" Caramel Arrow Cookie shouted.

"Yes?" He replied.

"In this book.. it said that the sword is cursed. Which can lead the person who hold of it get controlled and have this rage to attack everyone. Could this explain the prince's... attack?" Caramel Arrow Cookie said.

"Controlled.. and he.. was banished. Was the jam near him warm?" Dark cacao asked.

"Second Watcher when I first found it, the jam was warm. Maybe he got injured and ran when he heard an sound" Second Watcher answered.

"I see then. My son.. if that's the case? You three can leave now. I have to think about this. And also. Leave the sword." Dark cacao commanded.

"OF course your majesty" the three said.

TO BE CONTINUED 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER II

The moment to cope

NOBODY'S POV.

The meeting room was quieter than it had ever been. Because there was only one cookie in the room obv.

Not with the silence the room had. It's the though that was rushing inside the King's Head was the cause of silence.

Dark Cacao stood alone, the silver crown(idk its name okay😔)heavy on his head,heavier than it had ever felt in many battles. His sword lay beside him, somewhat watching the lone king. In his bare hands, the book that had the information of the Strawberry Jam Sword.

A simple thing. Yet had the answer he didn't know he needed

His hand tightened around the book.

The King had many many questions. But with only one truth that carved delicately into its surface as source

Now it burned in his palm like an fire.

Images of the snow, too sharp. His son standing at the center of the throne Hall. Blood on the very same sword that is on the Meeting Table. And his own voice, cold and absolute, ringing above them all.

"Leave. And never come back"

(I DONT KNOW WHAT HE SAID OKAY!??🥹)

The memory twisted like a knife.

Prince Choco had not begged. That was the cruelest part. He had stood straight, jaw clenched, eyes bright with something between confusion and hurt. He had tried to speak once, twice but Dark cacao had raised his hand and silenced him. The evidence had seemed irrefutable then. Witnesses. Acts of sabotage. A blade drawn against the king himself.

Banishment was the easiest punishment. Because if there was an trial. His own son would be dead.

He had believed himself just.

All the memories with the truth was mocking him.

“No,” the king whispered, the word tearing free of his chest. “No… no, no.”

He sank to one knee, armor creaking, the weight of years pressing down all at once. He thought of his son. As a child, small hands gripping a wooden sword far too large for him, declaring with fierce certainty that he would protect the kingdom one day. He thought of long nights spent poring over maps together, echoing through the keep, of a boy who had loved this realm more than his own comfort.

He would never have harmed me, Dark cacao thought desperately. Never.

And yet Cacao had not listened. He had not questioned deeply enough. He had seen a threat where there was a victim

"In this book.. it said that the sword is cursed. Which can lead the person who hold of it get controlled and have this rage to attack everyone. Could this explain the prince's... attack?" Small moment of Caramel Arrow cookie.

Words echoing.

Dark Cacao closed his eyes.

He knew he acted carelessly, thinking of an judgment, an banishment before truth could surface. He had ignored the unease in his gut because a king, he told himself, could not afford doubt.

What arrogance.

“What kind of idiot am i?" Dark cacao asked himself, his voice rough. And opened his eyes.

"What if he crumbled the day he was banished?.... no. He helped the kingdom from the plague. He has to alive." Dark Cacao said.

Beyond protection. Beyond the reach of the crown.

Dark Cacao Cookie rose slowly, every movement deliberate, as though if he moved too fast the truth might shatter. He turned, looking up at the sword on the meeting table that had once felt like the axis of the world.

For the first time, it looked small.

“I condemned my own son,” he said, not loudly, but the words filled the small room all the same. “For crimes he did not choose. I cast him out to suffer alone… while I sat here believing myself righteous.”

His reflection stared back at him from a polished shield along the wall, eyes haunted. Not the king his son had believed in.

Dark cacao straightened.

The memories..

The moment he should've stayed with his son instead of the kingly duties.

The moment he should've given enough him enough love.

The moment he should've been with him.

The guilt was pouring down. Like an Hollyberry juice pouring in a glass. Too quick. Too painful to even remember.

Now. All though the things are difficult now, atleast one apology now could make things different.

One problem.

Where could he even be?

Instead of thinking, he spring right into action. The meeting room door opened and closed. He found Caramel Arrow Cookie.

“Caramel Arrow cookie. I need you outside the gate.” he commanded. "Get Crunchy Chip along the way too"

“.. Yes your majesty. But why? The snow that was unusually soft suddenly become sharp. You sure it's safe?" First Watcher asked.

“I will not sit another hour on this throne while my son bears my punishment in silence,” The king snapped, steel returning to his voice, but sharpened now by something else. Resolve. Regret.

He paused, then added, quieter, “But it will not. Not today.”

As the First Watcher hurried away, The King looked at his hand. NewBorn Dark Choco Cookie was held in his hand as if it was just yesterday. And.. now? He doesn't even know if he's alive or not. He IS alive but the doubt is always there.

At the end of the hall, he stopped and looked back one last time.

“Hold,” he said to the throne, to the crown, to the ghost of the man he had been. “Wait for me.”

Then the king turned his back on power, on pride, on the lie that justice without compassion was justice at all and went to bring his son home.

TO BE CONTINUED 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER III

Eye of the red

DARK CHOCO COOKIES POV

Oh the misery..

Ever since the plague, I have gotten many unwanted attention. All though my relationship with my father is an mess. The though of getting found and who knows even executed is hard to accept. After all i attacked my father, it was my fault.

And the snow unusually feels softer.. the woods look like they are watching me..

I walk like someone who expects to be followed.

Even hours after I left the sword behind I still place my feet with care, still listen for sounds that don’t belong to the forest. The habit is so deeply carved into me that I no longer remember what it feels like to move without fear. Every step is measured. Every breath controlled.

Tonight, the woods feel different.

Not dangerous. Not loud. Just… aware. As if the trees themselves are watching, waiting to see whether I’ll make a mistake.

I slow my pace without meaning to, brushing fallen leaves instead of crunching through them. The moon is high, pale and thin, lighting the path just enough for me to see where I’m going. I’ve taken this route dozens of times. It curves away from the border roads, away from patrols, away from the places that still carry my name like a curse.

And yet, I can’t stop wondering.

Was I careful enough this time?

The question loops in my head, persistent as an ache. I replay the past few weeks in fragments faces in villages I lingered near too long, a guard tower I passed just as torches were being lit, the way a child had stared at me with too much curiosity when I handed his mother a sack of grain out of pity.

I tell myself none of it matters. That no one could connect those moments. That I erased my tracks, chose different routes, changed my timing.

But careful people don’t feel this uneasy.

I reach a narrow stretch where the trees grow close together and pause, listening. The forest answers with its usual sounds.. 

Still, my shoulders refuse to relax like a person having a feeling like their getting watched.. or worse.

I abandoned the sword just a few moments ago. Left it in a cave with a jam of a deer, walked away while my hands were still shaking from the effort of letting go. The curse went with it or so the priests swore. I believe them. I have to believe them.

Yet my body never learned that I was free. Well I am kinda used to being controlled back in the day-

I still flinch at sudden noise. Still calculate escape routes without thinking. Still avoid straight paths and open ground as if the kingdom itself might reach out and drag me back.

Hiding for years does that to a person. So does shame.

I resume walking, slower now, letting my thoughts wander where I usually keep them locked away. My father’s face appears unbidden, not as he was that night, but as he must be  carrying the weight of a son who vanished in disgrace and disappointment.

I wonder if he ever though of him. The happy days.. and ever searched for him? Ever had a though of searching for his son he made with his own dough?(oh Choco your father is EXACTLY doing that.)

The idea makes my chest tighten.

I shake my head and focus on the present. On the path. On the way the ground slopes slightly downward ahead. There’s a creek not far from here cold, fast-moving. If I needed to disappear quickly, that would be my first choice. Water erases more than footprints.

It’s a thought I shouldn’t need anymore.

And yet.

A breeze stirs the leaves to my right, and my hand instinctively moves closer to my side then stops. There’s nothing there now. No blade. No weight pulling at my belt. Just muscle memory reaching for something that no longer exists.

I exhale slowly, forcing my shaking hand to stop shaking

I am free, I remind myself. Free of the curse. Free of the sword. Free of the thing that turned me into a weapon.

So why does it feel like the kingdom might still be hunting me?

I pass a fallen tree and step over it carefully, avoiding loose bark that could snap under my weight. My reflection flickers briefly in a shallow pool of water nearby older than I expect every time I see myself. Leaner. Harder. A stranger shaped by choices I never wanted to make.

I do good where I can. Quietly. Carefully. I fix what I can without being seen. I leave before anyone can ask questions.

But good deeds have a way of leaving traces.

People talk. Rumors form. And rumors, I know too well, have a way of reaching ears that remember my name.

The thought settles heavily in my chest as the forest begins to thin ahead. I stop again, scanning the trees, the path, the shadows. No movement. No sound of armor. No torchlight.

If someone were tracking me, I’d already be gone.

That knowledge steadies me, just a little.

I turn off the path at the last moment, slipping into denser growth, choosing the route that only someone desperate or practiced would take. It’s slower, harder, but safer. Old habits, again.

As I move deeper into the woods, the tension slowly loosens its grip. The forest closes around me, familiar and indifferent. Whatever fear followed me here begins to fade, left behind with the open road.

Still, the question lingers, quiet but persistent.

How long can I keep this up?

How long before careful isn’t enough?

How long would I keep running?

How long do i have before a chase happens?

I don’t have an answer. All I know is that tonight, I wasn’t found. Tonight, I chose the shadows and they accepted me.

And until the day they don’t, I will keep walking.

I will do my best to hide even if I don't want to.

At the end of the day, I deserve to be banished after what I have done.

TO BE CONTINUED 

Chapter Text

CHAPTER IV

Chase is on Now RUN.

(Part 1)

DARK CHOCO COOKIES POV 

The sound is small.

That’s the worst part of it.

Not a shout. Not a crack of thunder. Just the soft, traitorous snap of wood beneath my heel as I shift my weight wrong. A dry branch, half-rotted, hidden beneath leaves that looked solid enough to trust. Dammit!

The sound lasts less than a second.

It echoes for much longer inside my head.

I freeze instantly, every muscle locking as if stillness alone might pull the noise back into the earth. My breath catches halfway in, shallow and silent, chest tight with the kind of fear that doesn’t scream it calculates.

Stupid. Careless. Amateur.

I haven’t made mistakes like this in days, weeks, months even YEARS.

The forest around me doesn’t react. No sudden shouts. No horns. No rush of boots. Just the same wind through the trees, the same distant night sounds. If anyone heard it, they didn’t announce it.

That doesn’t mean they didn’t hear it.

Slowly, carefully, I shift my weight back, easing my foot off the broken branch. I don’t move otherwise. I don’t even turn my head. I let my eyes do the work, scanning the darkness between the trunks, the uneven patterns of shadow and moonlight.

That’s when I realize something else.

I’m closer to an cliff rather than I though.. 

I swear under my breath not aloud, never aloud and replay the last hour in my head. I’d altered my route, cut east earlier than usual to avoid a patrol I’d spotted from higher ground. I must’ve misjudged the distance. Or the terrain. Or my own exhaustion.

Exhaustion makes liars of instincts.

I lower myself into a crouch, distributing my weight the way I was taught long ago, when disappearing was still a skill I practiced for duty instead of survival. The undergrowth here is thinner. Less forgiving. Too close to civilization.

Too close to him.

The thought settles heavily, uninvited.

I haven’t seen my father since the night everything broke. I’ve imagined it, sure played out a hundred impossible versions in my mind. Anger. Silence. Forgiveness I don’t deserve. A blade drawn. An embrace refused. Well I mean I did see him when Pomegranate Cookie cursed him and turned him Berserk.

But imagining is different from being near.

I didn’t know he was searching tonight.

If I had, I wouldn’t be here. And it's because I had to set up the sword in the cave🥹

DARK CACAO COOKIE'S POV

The forest has changed since my youth

Not in any way most would notice. The same oaks still claw at the sky. The same pines still whisper secrets to the wind. But years of patrols, border disputes, and quiet skirmishes have worn new paths into the land. Subtle ones. Ones only a man who has spent too much of his life walking them would recognize.

I am not going to ride a horse. It would give away the position too easily. And without the cream wolf's..  they are loud. Really loud.

Armor would announce it too loudly. A torch would betray me. Instead, I planned to move with a small escort spread thin through the woods not guards so much as hunters. Men who know how to track without chasing, how to listen without revealing themselves.

I raised a hand, and they stop.

There.

A sound. Faint. Out of place.

Not an animal. Too dry. Too deliberate. Too close.

My heart betrays me by speeding up. 

I tells myself not to hope. Hope is a weakness that i buried long ago, alongside the boy that i told the kingdom I have lost. Still, the feeling rises, unwelcome and persistent, pressing against my own dough.

The Watchers have been following rumors for weeks now. Quiet ones. Impossible ones. Stories of grain left where it shouldn’t be, of bandits found bound with knots taught only in royal training halls. Of a shadow that moves like a soldier and vanishes like smoke.

Of someone careful.

I raised my hand and gestures again, subtle this time. Two men peel off to the left. One to the right. No shouting. No orders spoken aloud. This is not an arrest.

This is MY way to find my son. To apologize. To see him.

I moved forward slowly, senses stretched thin, memories surfacing without permission. I remembered teaching a smaller pair of hands how to step over roots without breaking them. How to listen to the forest instead of fighting it.

How to disappear.

“If it’s you,” i think to myself,not daring to say it even in a whisper, “don’t run.”

DARK CHOCO COOKIES POV

I feel it before I see it.

That pressure. That awareness. The kind you get when eyes are on you, even if you can’t prove it yet. The forest hasn’t changed but the silence has. It’s heavier now, deliberate.

Controlled.

I was trained by the best. That’s the cruel irony of it. Everything I know about staying hidden, about moving unseen, comes from the very people who would be best at finding me.

From him.

I inch backward, careful not to disturb the ground again. My route options rearrange themselves in my head. Creek to the south too open from this angle. Ravine west steep, but safer. Thick show north slow, risky.

I choose none of them yet.

Moving too soon would confirm what might still be doubt.

I press my palm against the earth, grounding myself. The runes on my hand faded now, scars more than symbols catch faint moonlight. Proof of who I was. Of what I survived.

I am not cursed anymore.

But fear doesn’t care.

Another sound reaches me. Not a mistake this time. Footsteps. Measured. Intentional. Not rushing.

My chest tightens.

He’s close.

Really close.

DARK CACAO COOKIE'S POV 

The second sound is clearer.

A shift. Fabric against leaves. Someone trying very hard not to be heard.

I stopped walking.

Closed my eyes briefly, listening not just but with the part of him that never stopped being a soldier. The rhythm is wrong for a thief. Too controlled for a common bandit. Whoever it is knows how to move and knows they might be seen.

My hand curls slowly into a fist.

“All of you,” i mouths silently, barely moving my lips, “hold.”

(Imaginary lips.🥹)

He steps forward alone.

If this is a trap, i will pay for it. If it’s nothing, i will turn back before dawn and carry the disappointment like he always does.

But if..

A memory flashes unbidden..a boy laughing as he finally learned to cross a stream without soaking his boots. Pride sharp enough to ache.

I swallowed.. hard.

DARK CHOCO COOKIES POV 

There’s no more pretending.

The forest doesn’t hide me anymore. Not fully. I catch a glimpse between the trees a familiar posture, unmistakable even now. Straight backed. Unhurried. Someone who doesn’t need to rush because the world usually bends out of his way.

My father.

The one I share my DOUGH WITH.

The one who created me.

THE ONE I LOOKED UP TO.

The air leaves my lungs in a silent rush.

I don’t know how long I stare. Too long. Long enough for this moment to crystallize into something permanent. The last quiet second before everything changes.

He looks older. Of course he does. So do I. But there’s something else there, too something heavy in the way he scans the trees, the way his gaze lingers on shadows like he’s afraid they might vanish if he looks away.

I should move.

I should run.

I should plan my escape.

Instead, my body betrays me with one final, unforgivable mistake,a sharp inhale I can’t stop in time, a breath pulled too deep, too fast..

and his head snaps up instantly, eyes locking onto my position as his voice cuts through the trees like a blade.

“There.”

And in that exact moment, with the distance between us finally broken and no shadows left to hide in, the chase begins.

TO BE CONTINUED 

Chapter Text

OKAY SO.

Tomorrow is school and I am NOT ready to go through that pit of hell(read my recent work if u want to know what I'm dealing with). So the chapter of this fiction will be late. IM GOING TO POST AS BEST AS I CAN. And maybe 2 or 4 chapter in one day. 

That's all byee!!!

Chapter Text

Chapter V

Chase is on. Now run

PART II.

Dark Choco Cookies POV.

Oh in the name of the witches. 

Snow fell like a curtain drawn across the Cacao Kingdom

Not gently. Not prettily. It came down thick and endless, devouring sound, softening edges, erasing certainty. The sky and the ground blurred together until there was no horizon only white above and white below, broken by the black spines of trees. The snow was soft before. And just as I was found. It got more harsher.

I ran like my life depended on it.

I was already exhausted before.. a breath tore from my chest in harsh, uneven bursts, each exhale crystallizing instantly in the air before vanishing. The boots struck the frozen ground with desperate rhythm, kicking up powder that clung to my trousers and weighed them down. The cold burned, sharp and invasive, but I welcomed it. Pain meant I was still moving.

Still alive.

Behind me, the forest echoed with pursuit.

The crunch of boots.

The low, controlled calls of soldiers.

The unmistakable sound of men who knew how to hunt.

I did NOT dare to look back. If I did. It would slow me down.

It was a common semse after all. I had learned long ago that looking back slowed you. And slowing down out here, in this storm, with them behind me? Basically wishing for a bitter death.

The trees closed in around me, their branches heavy with snow, bending low like bowed heads or grasping hands. They snagged my cloak, clawed at my hair, scraped skin raw beneath layers of cloth. Snow cascaded down my back as I forced my way through, icy needles finding every gap in my poor and good disguise clothes.

This forest should have been familiar.

That realization struck me harder than the cold.

The same forest that I had ridden through these woods as a child, perched proudly in a saddle too large for him. I had hunted here as a boy, learned the quiet language of tracks and broken twigs. I had walked beneath these same trees beside my father, listening to stories of kings long dead and borders long forgotten.

But now—

Now the forest was wrong

Paths that i used to remembered were gone, swallowed whole by drifts and tangled undergrowth. Clearings had vanished, replaced by dense walls of trees growing too close together, their roots snarled like something alive beneath the snow. Landmarks were missing. Stones, fallen logs, streams either buried or absent entirely.

It was as though the forest had shifted when i wasn’t looking.

Or as though it no longer recognized me.

Is it because I wasn't here for years? To the point the forest that I used to know is gone? No. No way. 

A sharp whistle cut through the air behind me.

My poor little heart slammed violently against my ribs. I veered left instinctively, plunging deeper into the trees. Snow sprayed up around my boots as i pushed harder, lungs screaming in protest.

They were coordinating.

I knew those signals. I had trained with these men. I knew how they thought, how they moved. They would spread, tighten the net, drive hme forward into terrain that favored them.

Unless i reached something first.

My thoughts raced, calculating paths that no longer existed. Every memory i reached for came up wrong a turn that led nowhere, a slope that hadn’t been there before, a ridge that seemed steeper than it ever had.

The storm thickened, wind howling between trunks like a living thing. Snow whipped sideways now, stinging my bad vision eyes and blinding me. The world shrank to a narrow tunnel of breath and motion.

NOBODY'S POV.

"IM GOING TO DIE." he thought not dramatically, not desperately. Just as a fact. A simple conclusion drawn from experience and exhaustion.

His chest burned. His legs trembled, not from injury but from the relentless strain of running without rest. Cold crept deeper with every passing minute, numbing fingers, stiffening muscles.

Still, he ran.

Behind him, an arrow sliced through the air.

It missed by design or chance, he didn’t know but the hiss of it sent a jolt of pure terror through him. He ducked, heart pounding, and pushed harder, ignoring the fire in his lungs. He knew it was Caramel Arrow cookie.

They were close now. Too close.

He burst through a line of trees and skidded to an abrupt halt.

The ground simply… ended.

Where the forest should have opened into a wide stretch of land where he knew there had once been a gentle slope and a frozen stream there was nothing.

Only sky.

Only falling snow.

Only a vast, yawning drop.

A cliff.

The prince staggered forward a step, disbelief hollowing his chest. He stared out into the white void beyond the edge, his mind refusing to accept what his eyes were seeing.

“No,” he whispered hoarsely. “That’s not… this wasn’t here.”

This place did not belong here. Not like this. Not where memory said there should have been ground beneath his feet.

The forest had changed.

Or perhaps it had always been capable of thisand he had simply never needed to know.

The wind hit him full force at the cliff’s edge, roaring upward from below, tearing at his cloak and nearly knocking him off balance. Snow surged upward in wild spirals, vanishing into the storm above.

Behind him, the forest erupted with movement.

Voices.

Boots.

Steel shifting.

The prince turned slowly.

Soldiers emerged from the trees, spreading out instinctively, weapons lowered but ready. Their breath clouded the air. Snow dusted their shoulders and helms. They stopped when they saw where he stood.

At the center of them

The king.

His father.

The prince’s chest tightened painfully, not with hope, but with something colder and sharper. The king had dismounted, his horse held back by another man. He stood rigid, eyes fixed on the scene before him.

DARK CACAO COOKIE'S POV

On the cliff.

On the storm.

On his son.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Snow fell between them, heavy and endless, muffling the world.

“So this is it,” he murmured to no one in particular. “Cornered by a forest I don’t recognize anymore.”

I took a step forward and then stopped.

Something in my son’s expression froze me in place.

He was calm.

Too calm.

Not defiant. Not pleading. Just… tired. Empty. As if the chase had stripped something vital away, leaving only resolve behind.

“Hold,” I said sharply to my men, though none of them had moved.

Choco glanced at the cliff again. Stones at the edge were coated in ice, brittle and unstable. Snow hid how far the drop truly was, turning it into an endless white fall.

DARK CHOCO COOKIE'S POV

Behind me was the king’s justice.

Ahead of me was the unknown.

I knew which terrified him more.

Another step forward. The ground crumbled slightly beneath my heel, pebbles skittering down into nothingness. I didn’t flinch.

My father inhaled sharply. “Don’t,” he said not as a command, but as something rawer. Something more of a cookie than a stern cookie I knew.

I met his gaze.

Somehow softer. Maybe older? No he was already old. Anyway.

For a moment just one the world narrowed to the us. Father and son. King and heir. Hunter and hunted.

I thought of that one day.

Of the word banished.

Of the way the world had tilted that day and never quite righted itself again.

I thought of running through snow until his lungs burned, of arrows cutting the air, of a forest that no longer felt like home.

I thought, distantly, "I won’t let this end with me kneeling."

My father stepped forward again. Stern eyes met my eyes. 

I stepped backward. 

“NO!” someone shouted.

The wind screamed.

And then

I turned, took one final step, and vanished over the edge.

NOBODY'S POV 

For a heartbeat, there was nothing.

Then stones broke loose.

Snow cascaded downward in a violent rush, swallowed instantly by the storm below. The sound echoed brief, terrible and then was gone.

Silence followed.

A silence so complete it felt unnatural.

The king lunged forward, reaching the edge of the cliff just as the last loose snow settled. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the ice biting through his clothing, and stared down into the white abyss.

There was nothing.

No movement.

No sound.

No sign of life.

Only falling snow.

“Search,” Dark cacao cookie said weakly 

The soldiers were nervous enough to not answer.

Men approached the edge cautiously, peering down, calling out. Ropes were brought. Torches lit. Orders exchanged.

But the storm was relentless.

The cliff face vanished into white within moments. Any trace of the fall was erased almost instantly, snow covering stone, wind scattering evidence.

The king remained where he was, unmoving.

His hands trembled.

“He couldn’t have survived that,” Crunchy Chip cookie said quietly, not unkindly.

The king closed his eyes.

In his mind, he saw a child laughing in the snow.

A boy riding too fast through the trees.

A young man standing tall, trusting.

The storm did not care.

By the time night fell, the search was called

There was nothing to find.

The forest closed in again, reclaiming its silence, its snow, its secrets.

And at the edge of the cliff, a king knelt alone believing, with crushing certainty, that the son he had banished had finally been taken by a world he could no command

TO BE CONTINUED