Chapter Text
The battle was a viscous, bloody thing that punished both sides equally.
Jam from one side repaid by jam from the other, both armies with leaders too stubborn to admit defeat, and their fruitless efforts to win were only rewarded by more crumbs from the injured. The land was already littered with the fallen-it’s practically built on them- so what’s to add a little more? And despite the moans of the cracking and crumbling, and the roars of the momentarily mighty and triumphant, Burning Spice, harbinger of destruction, only grins wider as he revels in the chaos of his lands. He hacks an arm right of a cookie and they fall to the ground in agony; this is the most fun he’s had since the bird hunt. Partly because of his own forces success, but largely because of the enemy: the Dark Cacao army. Or perhaps more specifically, the man that leads them.
Burning Spice has been observing him, from the ruthless arc of his sword, or the gracefully calculated footsteps on the red plains, it’s obvious that the leader of the Dark Cacao army is well-versed in the art of war. Burning Spice is… impressed. It sates his boredom enough for him to stretch this fight out longer.
When Nutmeg had first warned him of a presence approaching the Land of Spice, he’d gleefully waited the return of his Soul Jam’s thief. But this… oh, this was a surprise. One he’d welcomed with open arms and a raised axe. Yet the battle was growing long and tedious, and Burning Spice is becoming jaded.
“Master, the sun is setting and night is falling. Shall we pull back to the tents and resume the fighting in the morning?”
Burning Spice shoots a scowl over his shoulder at Nutmeg Tiger Cookie. “No, this needs to end today. Tell the Wild Spices to push forwards. The enemy is weakened, crack their defences while they remain distracted.”
“But our forces are equally-“
“Do it.” He growls before leaping back into the mess of bodies. He’ll take their commander down now, give the Ancient the honour of a fight.
Burning Spice grins as he catches sight of the heavy, Soul Jam imbued sword raised high into the air. “Dark Cacao Cookie!” He booms, voice ringing across the field as Cookies scurry from his path like mice. Burning Spice doesn’t need to see the Soul Jam to tell this is the Ancient of resolution. His dark eyes meet the Beast’s, and they burn with all the determination that Mystic Flour lacks. He admires it, truly, he does. But destruction halts for no one, and all is swept away by the tides of change.
“Beast! Retreat now and I might spare your armys’ life!” The Ancient growls over the sounds of carnage and desolation.
As he raises his axe, he notes no such offer is made for his life; his smile widens—It’s a pity for Dark Cacao that the Beast doesn’t care for his subordinates. He barks a laugh at the furrowing of the Ancient’s thick brows. “Hah! And waste the opportunity to take a Soul Jam? Unlikely! It may not be mine, but I welcome it nonetheless. Mystic Flour will be pleased!”
Dark Cacao tightens his grip on the sword, the silent challenge in his eyes screaming louder than words.
This would be fun.
***
The sky is dark and the pair are still fighting, trading blow after blow as sweat and jam alike run in rivulets down both their temples in unison. Burning Spice snarls as his axe hisses against the sword. Metal screams against metal. Dark Cacao is a formidable opponent, and a millennia inside a tree had hardly been kind to the Beast, leaving them evenly matched. Dark Cacao grunts as he takes a foot to the chest, sending him sprawling backwards towards the edge of the red spice cliff with a grunt. With a new spike of adrenaline, Burning Spice charges forwards, only for the other to roll out the way and stick out a steely boot, sending the Beast crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.
Weapons abandoned, the pair resort to trading punches and kicks on the floor. A solid punch to the jaw wipes the arrogant smirk right of Burning Spice’s face. They don’t fight like kings, or rulers— they fight like animals, wild and rabid. Dark Cacao struggles against the sand, a gash from his cheek dribbling jam into his mouth like a fountain. Burning Spice has him pinned by the shoulders and his pulling his fist back for another punch when a wad of jam filled saliva splats against his cheek.
Tongue flicking out like a snake, he licks it off.
“Disgusting animal.” Dark Cacao spits, thoroughly repulsed.
“Ha! Atleast I don’t try to hide it!”
“What do you mean by that, Beast?” Dark Cacao asks as he slips out of the other’s grasp like a fish.
“Oh, you’re enjoying this as much as I. The fighting, the jam-shed.”
Dark Cacao lunges for the sword. Burning Spice makes for his ankle, but a swift crack to the wrist loosens his grip. Witches. Now they’re both on their feet, dangerously close to the ledge, a weaponless Burning Spice confronted by the sword.
Licking his dry lips, he rasps, “well played. Well played, indeed.”
The battle is still raging on behind them, but Dark Cacao pays it no mind, edging closer to the Beast, sword bared in-front of him. “You will crumble here. Now.”
“My Soul will find another vessel. There are plenty being made already. It’s been done before, and it will be done again.” He thinks back to the Laboratorium and the hollow shells of dough lined up in incubation tanks.
Dark Cacao adjusts his grip. “It will slow you down. Slow Dark Enchantress Cookie down.” Burning Spice has no retort. “Goodbye, Beast.”
Burning Spice smiles, wide and vicious. “Ah, but is it really?”
“Huh-“
He brings his foot down, the earth shakes, and the ledge crumbles beneath them both.
***
The moon shines in all its brilliance, full in the sky by the time Burning Spice manages to crack open a drowsy eye. He coughs under the pile of rubble, and feels shards of rock dig into his battered ribs as he does so. But he’s alive, and judging from similar rustling sounds somewhere to his left, so is his enemy.
Brushing the debris from himself, he pulls himself out. His bones protest as he stands and hauls himself over to the ancient, swaying slightly like a drunk. “Dark Cacao.” He grumbles as he towers, bruised and bloody, over the Ancient. He hefts the sword, and he sees Dark Cacao’s eyes widen.
“No!” He coughs, “you can’t!”
Burning Spice’s grin is wide and exhausted. He can, and he will.
He raises the sword.
Dark Cacao refuses to shut his eyes.
This is it, how the first Andient falls. Bested by a Beast that isn’t even his own.
Expect, he wasn’t bested— Dark Cacao won. And while Burning Spice does lack compassion, he doesn’t lack respect.
Begrudgingly, he releases that he does respect Dark Cacao. The sword sinks into the rubble. Dark Cacao knits his brown in confusion. “Beast, what are you doing?”
“Saving you.”