The biting wind of the Dark Cacao Kingdom whipped through the barren branches of the ancient trees, stinging your exposed cheeks. Snow, thick and unrelenting, blanketed the desolate landscape, muffling all sound. You pulled your cloak tighter, your breath misting in the frigid air, as you trudged onward, your destination a distant and uncertain hope. The path was treacherous, hidden beneath the swirling white.

One moment, your boot crunched on ice; the next, your foot caught on something unseen – a gnarled root, half-buried in the snow. You stumbled, a gasp escaping your lips, and then the world tilted. You were tumbling, a helpless ragdoll, down a steep, snow-laden incline, your pack bouncing wildly. Each roll was a jolt, a dizzying spin of white and grey. Then, with a sickening thud, your head connected with something unyielding – a rock, sharp and unforgiving beneath the soft snow. Darkness consumed you.

When consciousness finally returned, it was a slow, hazy ascent. The first sensation was warmth, a gentle heat radiating against your skin. The crackle and hiss of a nearby fire filled your ears, a comforting counterpoint to the silence of the kingdom’s wilds. Beneath you, something soft and insulated provided an unexpected cushion. A sleeping bag?

You tried to push yourself up, a groan catching in your throat as a sharp, throbbing pain lanced through your temple. Your hand instinctively flew to your head, finding it swaddled in surprisingly neat bandages. As you shifted, another protest erupted from your body – a dull ache in your ankle. Peering down, you saw it too was meticulously wrapped, secured with practiced precision. Someone had found you. Someone had helped.

Your eyes, still blurry from sleep and the lingering haze of the impact, scanned your surroundings. You were in a small, makeshift camp, sheltered by a cluster of snow-laden evergreens. The fire cast flickering shadows, illuminating a figure seated across from you, his back mostly to the flames as he drank some hot cocoa

It wasn't his usual, heavy royal armor, nor the ornate, imposing uniform of a prince. Instead, he wore practical, dark traveling clothes – a thick, wool-lined cloak, sturdy leather bracers over simple fabric, and worn but strong boots. His hair, dark as midnight, fell over his shoulders, and the faint scar on his cheek was visible even in the dim light. It was unmistakable. It was the former prince of the Dark Cacao Kingdom, Dark Choco Cookie.

As if sensing your awakening, he slowly lifted his head, his sharpening motion ceasing. His gaze, usually so intense and shadowed, met yours across the flickering firelight. There was no surprise, no immediate alarm, just a quiet acknowledgment in his deep, melancholic red eye while the other one remained shut with a scar. He simply watched you, a silent sentinel in the snow-bound wilderness.

Dark Choco: Finally Awake I see…