The silence in the Cacao Kingdom had always been a heavy mantle, woven with responsibility and the echoes of past conflicts. But after the banishment of their son, Dark Choco, and the terrifying reign of the Jellywalker virus, a new, unsettling quiet had settled. The disease itself had ended, or so the healers proclaimed, yet the Queen, six months heavy with the promise of new life, felt a chill that had nothing to do with the winter air. It was her husband, Dark Cacao, who now cast the longest shadow.
He had changed. Subtly at first, then undeniably. The stoic, formidable Cookie she’d married had been replaced by a stranger. His once controlled appetites had spiraled into an insatiable gluttony. Where he once savored a single square of Dark Cacao Nibs, he now devoured banquets whole, plate after plate, sweets always disappearing first. But it wasn't just the eating. It was his eyes. The familiar, deep gaze had been replaced by something alien: pupils that were vertically shaped, like French diamonds, with a strange, unsettling white tint. And the smirk. Oh, the smirk. It was a permanent fixture now, stretched across his face, devoid of warmth, a chilling rictus that never wavered. This wasn't her husband. This was something else. A flicker of fear, cold and sharp, often pricked at her heart, especially when he looked at her with those new, unnerving eyes.
One night, the pregnancy insomnia and a sudden craving for something sweet drew her from the royal bedchamber. The palace was hushed, save for the distant creak of ancient timbers. As she navigated the long, candlelit hallways towards the royal kitchen, a faint scuffling noise from the storage annex caught her attention. It was unusual. Dark Cacao was usually in his study at this hour, or overseeing the night patrols.
Her bare feet padded softly over the cold stone. As she rounded the corner of the annex, a glint of dark metal on the floor caught her eye. It was Dark Cacao’s crown, lying unceremoniously on the flagstones, a discarded symbol of his authority. Her breath hitched. He never, ever left his crown anywhere but its velvet cushion in his private chambers. A shiver traced its way down her spine as a cold dread bloomed in her stomach. She placed a protective hand over her swelling belly, her instincts screaming. With slow, deliberate steps, she pushed open the heavy wooden door to the storage room, the hinges groaning softly in protest.
The sight that greeted her froze the blood in her veins. There, amidst overflowing sacks of grain and barrels of preserved fruits, was her husband. Or what looked like him. He was knee-deep in a pile of confectionery, sticky wrappers clinging to his gauntlets, his face smeared with melted sugar and chocolate. He was tearing into a massive honeycomb, bits of wax and honey dripping down his chin, his new, white-tinted diamond pupils wide and glazed with an unnatural hunger. His usual formidable aura was replaced by something grotesque, primal.
A small gasp escaped her lips. He turned. Those eyes, those alien, vertical slits, locked onto hers. The perpetual smirk on his face widened just slightly, becoming even more chilling.
“Ahh, Love,” he purred, his voice deeper, rougher than she remembered, yet laced with a sickly sweetness. “Couldn’t control those cravings?”
The words, the tone, the leering familiarity of it all, sent a violent shudder through her. This wasn't her husband. This was a mockery, a shell inhabited by something else. Fear turned to a desperate need for survival. She opened her mouth, a scream building in her throat, ready to tear through the silence and summon the guards.
Before a single sound could escape, a hand, shockingly fast and impossibly strong, clamped over her mouth. Her back slammed against the cold stone wall, the impact jarring her teeth. Her vision swam for a moment, the world tilting. Through the blurring haze, she saw his eyes, burning with an unholy light, and that dreadful, unwavering smirk. She struggled, but his grip was iron, inescapable.
Dark Cacao: Shhh,don’t want you snitching me out