Chapter Text
Burning Spice Cookie’s empathy had died a long time ago, along with him turning into a beast. However, he couldn’t help but wince as the two walked towards the remains of the kingdom, the sky a dark gray; embers of the dying fires floating above them. Gingerbrave’s Kingdom, or the Brave Kingdom… (or whatever it was called…), had been destroyed by Dark Enchantress Cookie and her forces. She had ordered him and Nutmeg Tiger Cookie to hunt anyone left in the rubble. If people were even there.
As they searched through the surrounding countryside, there was no sign of life. The old houses, stables for sheep, and a few windmills were wisps of what they used to be—ruins of their previous splendor. The green grass, plants and bushes were charred, the trees in the surrounding forest were all scorched and dead. All that was left was the dirt roads on the way to the kingdom, but those too, were fading: the wind blowing what was left of the road and rubble that rumbled along.
“I don’t know why Dark Enchantress sent us here, there’s nothing left,” Nutmeg Tiger mutters.
Burning Spice sighs, the remnant being all too familiar with his past, “Let’s just get this over with…”
As the two head southward, he reflects on the journey to get here. They had taken a boat from the Ivory Pagoda to Crispia, then began their trek inland to The Sweet Tower of Chaos, once they had gotten there; they headed to the ruins. As they approached and left the tower, the sky was still an ashen gray with specks of debris flowing in the wind–the surrounding forests were scorched as well.
The fire had gotten out of control, but Dark Enchantress didn’t care.
She never did.
“Burning Spice Cookie?”
“Hm?”
“Do you truly think anyone is left here?”
“No, not at all.”
“... What are we going to do if we see someone?”
“Uh… I don’t know yet. We’ll… see when–I mean–if we get here.”
The duo’s walk returns to an eerie silence, and they approach the dilapidated entrance of the kingdom. The wind blowing ash and the dying embers of the fire. The buildings—each house, the fountains, the taverns, and both the large clock tower and the castle that once stood so proudly—were rubble and ash. Only a few buildings were left intact–but barely, their roofs sagging under the burden of war. No bees buzzed near the flowers and bushes, no birds flew above the once thriving kingdom near the warm sun—all of it was gone. Its once bright and vibrant colors were now reduced to dull gray’s and browns. A sense of melancholy hung in the air, a once joyful safe haven where anyone from any background was welcome, now stained with ruthlessness and death.
The two stared at the scene laid out in front of them, it being all too familiar to the war-torn world they’ve witnessed and lived through. Anyone reasonable would've run away from the destruction–fled from their old home with their friends and family.
But what about those who were abandoned?
Those who didn’t have anybody?
Burning Spice’s and Nutmeg Tiger’s search became more thorough after entering, however, it was a fruitless search. Some buildings were even impossible to enter. As they traveled further into the kingdom, the buildings became more ashen and practically empty plots of land other than a few pieces of rubble left–their hope tethered alongside it. The two walk further into the destroyed nation and closer to the decaying castle.
“What’s that?” Nutmeg Tiger asks.
Burning Spice looks at what she’s looking at, “What?”
“That,” She points to what seems to be a small shed next to a ruined house, that wasn’t fully destroyed–but still crumbling. Curiosity got the best of the man, and he hesitantly opened the door.
Inside the small shed, and huddled behind the gardening tools, the desk, and rubble… was a boy. He seemed only four or five years old. There were many bruises and burn scars on his body. He was shivering, and his clothing was torn and wrinkled. The boy must be hungry.
“Oh witches…” Burning Spice Cookie’s old kingly manners kicked into high gear, his body moving without command. He ushers himself to the boy and picks him up in his arms. Cradling the boy like a baby like a parent to their child. “Kid…? Kid…? C’mon kid wake up…”
The child stirs in his grasp, blinking awake with a grimace on his face. There is a scar on his left eye starting above his eyebrow and stopping at the bottom of his cheek. It would either be from one of a trident or one from a clawed cake monster.
As his eyes adjust and sees Burning Spice, the child lets out a whine of fright. The latter had forgotten how to take care of a child, let alone a traumatized one, yet Burning Spice seemed to know just what to say. The words coming out long before he could process them.
“Hey little guy… We’re not here to hurt you, I promise… We’re here to help.”
“Friend…?”
“Yes, dear… We will be your friends…” Burning Spice turns to Nutmeg Tiger, “You wouldn’t happen to bring any water or food, did you?”
“I did. Here…”
He had entirely forgotten the saddlebags of essentials that she insisted that they should bring at that moment. Gods, what a fool he was. Nutmeg Tiger placed a bottle of water and loaf of bread.
“Thank you, Nutmeg Tiger Cookie… I owe you…”
He opens the water bottle and puts it up to the child's lips, the boy took hearty sips. She stood by, not saying a word.
“There you go… drink up…”
The boy’s pallor faded, and a small smile appeared on his face. As Burning Spice lifted the water bottle, and the child curled up against him, and fell asleep.
“... We’re taking this guy home. We aren’t going to kill him.” He declares.
Nutmeg Tiger nods in agreement. The two stand, gather their things, and begin the journey back home.