Chapter Text
The main road was bustling, even as the sun slowly creeped toward the horizon. Vendors cried out their wares, shiny jewelry and suspiciously polished fruits gleaming in the pale light of the afternoon. The well-worn stone path was currently being flooded by cookies getting out of their jobs. Among them was a young cookie dressed in simple brown robes, his tired eyes shielded by his floppy hood.
Pure Vanilla quietly pushed through the crowd, his smaller stature allowing him to slip between the rushing crowd with ease. He dodged swinging purses and wayward Choco Horses taking the richer cookies home on large carts with wheels almost as big as he was. As he dodged foot traffic, he noticed a blockage up ahead, where two main roads intersected. So, he quickly ducked into a small alleyway with stone buildings on either side, hurrying through to the smaller village houses behind it with small yards, all connected to a smaller road out toward the countryside.
The young cookie walked slower once he reached the more secluded path toward his father’s home, the more urban area of the town fading as he reached the outskirts of town. He walked past the metal fence at the head of the property, his gaze landing on the black roses mixed with delicate milkcrowns that lined the winding stone path up to the front door.
The house was larger than those around it, as it was two stories. Yet, it was oddly decorated with silvery markings all along the side, the exterior a sharp black to contrast the shiny, almost vine-like pattern that wrapped around the pillars of the front entryway. The windows were covered by the light-blocking shades, adding to the very dark, moody look the house had.
Pure Vanilla took a deep breath before opening the deep grey door, praying his father was in a good mood, and would let him go to his mother’s house.
He carefully shut the door, making sure to create as little noise as possible. Pure Vanilla kept his steps light as he peeked around the corner into his father’s office. A group of older cookies sat in deep discussion around his father’s huge desk, with, of course, his father at the head. His jet black hair, cut in a military fade style, was perfectly kept as always. He wore a suit, paired with a navy blue tie with the emblem of his… business on the bottom of the tie. Pure Vanilla quietly backed away, knowing his father hated seeing him when he was in a meeting.
He tip-toed back to his room, hidden behind a false bookshelf that opened when he tugged on a specific book, the third to the right on the middle shelf. His father had told him many times why he was hidden away. It was because Pure Vanilla was an embarrassment to his business. The young cookie didn’t really mind, though, since he never had to talk to the weird men that lingered around the house.
Pure Vanilla quietly closed the door, making sure he was almost silent in doing so. When he was sure he was safe, his shoulders relaxed for the first time all day. He had gotten a job at a cream sheep farm right in town, where they needed help shearing the sheep. Of course, he was paid under the table, but any money he made went to his father regardless, so Pure Vanilla knew to behave while he was at work, or else his father would be sent into a fit of rage without Pure Vanilla’s “payment” for living at his house.
He stretched his arms over his head, letting his magic flow down his arm, healing the bruises and small cuts he had gotten throughout the day from the sheers and wrangling sheep. Pure Vanilla smiled as he concentrated his magic into his palm, letting the soft light glow for a moment before letting it fizzle into sparks onto the ground. He flopped down on his bed, practically the only thing in his room besides his lamp, barren desk, and small dresser.
The sheets were, of course, a dark black. Pure Vanilla always despised the overuse of such monotonous blacks and greys around the house. However, he did appreciate the softness of the blankets, it was nice after a long day. He reached under his pillow, pulling out the book he got from the library a day previous. It was utterly boring at this house, even if he was allowed to wander the halls.
It took him at least 5 new chapters in his book before a sharp knock resounded through his room. Pure Vanilla shot upward as his father walked in, his posture straight as he scrambled to stand for the older cookie.
His voice was, of course, emotionless as he spoke, “Pure Vanilla, I need you gone for the night. Go to your mother’s and return tomorrow at 7 am, sharp.”
No hello, no words of reassurance, just straight to the point as always.
“Of course, father.” Pure Vanilla kept his voice even, just how his father liked him to be, cold and calculating, an emulation of his father’s own personality.
“Good.” With that, he turned and walked away, only muttering, “Go out your window.” before he disappeared around the corner, shutting the door as he left.
Pure Vanilla did not have to be told twice as he slowly opened his window and leaped out, the glass pane slamming back down as he broke out into a sprint toward the woods not too far from his father’s house.
The wind mussed his hood down as he ran, revealing his gleaming heterochromatic eyes and light blonde hair to the open air. His father despised that he had such light, colorful features, so he ordered Pure Vanilla to hide that part of himself whenever he was home.
He ran out towards the forest, a smile on his face as the road, now more gravelly and less travelled, turned familiar. An old log cabin peaked out from behind tall trees, the lanterns around the front of the property glowing like a beacon since the sun was almost completely set.
“Mama!” Pure Vanilla yelled, “Mama?”
A voice called back from the house, a figure appearing in his vision as they cried out, “Nilly, baby!”
He ran straight into his mother’s arms, happy tears threatening to spill down his face. Her soft blue eyes softened as she let him bury his face into her cream dress. She smelt like fresh bread, always. No matter what.
Pure Vanilla pulled away, looking up to his mother’s face. She wore a soft smile as her blond hair fell down into his face. He giggled, “Mama, your hair!”
She smiled softly, “Sorry, Nilly.” she whispered as she flicked the hair out of her face, “Now, come on dear, I have something very special today for you.”
He eagerly followed her into the house, his magic freely flowing from his hands as he released it from its tight control. His mother adored his magic, unlike his father, who hated the fact he wielded light moon magic and not dark moon magic like most in the kingdom. Pure Vanilla only knew of one other light moon magic wielder, and that was his mother, who taught him healing spells and offensive light magic spells whenever she could. She always told him how good he was at magic, although he sometimes didn’t believe her.
His mother placed the basket of berries he hadn’t noticed onto the kitchen counter before she disappeared into the basement as Pure Vanilla walked into the rustic living room, settling on the cream-colored couch. His magic drifted into the air, forming creatures he heard of in his book out of glowing light, their colorful forms shining onto every surface in the room. The carpets, coffee table, and varying bookshelves were all bathed in a golden glow as he drew pictures out of his light magic, just for fun.
Down in the basement, Pure Vanilla’s mother, Honey Almond Cookie, blew the dust off of an old box, releasing the enchantment she placed on it all those years ago. With a heavy heart, she walked up the stairs, only to be greeted by Pure Vanilla’s swirling magic. She smiled softly, although her heart lurched with fear for the boy.
He has no idea how powerful he really is…
─ ⊹ ⊱ ⟡ ⊰ ⊹ ─
Pure Vanilla tilted his head as his mother appeared at the top of the stairs, a deep blue box with a silver latch held tightly in her hands.
“What’s that, Mama?” Pure Vanilla waved away his magic, his interest piqued as she sat down next to him on the couch, her smile carrying a hint of sadness.
She turned to him, offering him the box, “This is something I’ve been meaning to give you, but I had never figured out the right time.”
Pure Vanilla frowned, his hand gently reaching to unclasp the latch on the box, confusion building in his mind as he slowly opened the lid.
Blue light seeped out of the box and gathered around Pure Vanilla, forming a soft wind around him as he opened the lid more. His magic began to bubble from his hands without his control, his soft yellow magic intermingling with the light from the box. He reached his hands in the box, pulling out the oddly-shaped gemstone from its depths. The cerulean blue gem shimmered with its own light, the surface of it humming wherever he touched it.
His mother, seemingly unfazed by the lightshow, merely nodded, like this confirmed her worst fears, “Nilly, you need to promise me something.”
He gently cradled the gem in his hands, turning to his mother as she spoke, “You protect this with your life. It holds your own power now, you must keep it safe.” She reached into the box, finding a small silver pendant attached to a silver chain within.
“May I have it?” His mother whispered. Pure Vanilla nodded slowly, handing the gemstone over. As soon as she touched the gem to the pendant, it shrank, becoming a charm on the necklace. Pure Vanilla sat still as the necklace was clasped around his neck, the soft pulse of the gemstone steady against his dough. His mother slowly pulled away, that same sad smile on her face.
“Is there something wrong, Mama?”
She took a deep breath, tension in her shoulders, like she was going to burst into tears because of what she was going to say, “Nilly, your father requested for this to be the last time I ever see you.”
Pure Vanilla’s heart shattered. He clung to his mother because she meant safety and kindness, he didn’t want to be with his father!
He wrapped his arms around himself, shaking his head so fast his head began to hurt, “No- I can’t be with him!”
She quietly shushed him, “I know, Nilly. But if you don’t go, if you try to run, he’ll hurt you.”
Pure Vanilla sat up straighter, “I’m a good healer, I can do it!”
“No, Nilly. Please, just go with him, for your own sake, love.”
The young healer teared up, “Mama, I can’t see you ever again…?”
“Maybe in the future, dear.” She muttered as he pushed himself into her embrace, her voice cracking as she silently cried with him, “It’s for your protection, Nilly. Your father is a dangerous man and I have no control over him. You need to be smart Nilly, use your powers to protect yourself, alright baby?”
Pure Vanilla pressed his face into her dress, “I will, Mama. I love you…”
“I love you too, baby. It’s getting late, go to bed, honey. Did he tell you a time to return before?”
“7 am.”
“I’ll wake you, then.”
Pure Vanilla was promptly picked up and brought to his room that was covered in books, papers, and pictures of him and his mother together. He was silently tucked into bed as his mother softly kissed the star on his forehead.
“Goodnight, Nilly.”
“Night, Mama.” His voice shook as she pulled away, that same sad smile on her face as she left the room.
The door softly clicked shut, and Pure Vanilla began to bawl. He was scared of his father, he couldn’t take forever with him!
As his tears dried, his consciousness slipped, and he fell asleep upon the soft mattress surrounded by soft lamb plushies.
─ ⊹ ⊱ ⟡ ⊰ ⊹ ─
Pure Vanilla was gently shaken awake by his mother, who lit his room with her own light moon magic.
“Morning, Nilly. I made you breakfast.”
He smiled at her, “Thank you, Mama.”
Together, they walked through the hallway, the tension in the air heavy upon their shoulders as Pure Vanilla hopped onto the stool at his mother’s kitchen island, where they always ate breakfast.
He gingerly picked up his fork, the normal syrup-covered pancakes greeting him. Even though it was his favorite breakfast his mother made, it tasted bitter in his mouth.
Once Pure Vanilla finished, he raced over to his mom, tears streaming down his face, “Mama, I love you!” he whined as he pressed his head into her side.
She swallowed the last of her pancakes down, gently patting his head, “It’ll be okay Nilly.”
He sniffled, “Mama…”
She nodded, and started to walk, even with Pure Vanilla tightly clinging onto her dress. A pre-packed bag lay out on her bed, small enough for Pure Vanilla to hide under his robes.
Honey Almond quietly handed the bag to her son, “It’s time to go, Nilly, baby. I packed some things for you, some comforts.” She gave him a kiss on his forehead once more, “I love you more than you could ever know, Nilly.”
Pure Vanilla took a deep breath, nodding to her, “I know, Mama.” He turned to walk away, but paused, “I’ll do whatever I can to come back, someday.”
She smiled at him, moving forward to wrap him in one final hug, “I love you, Nilly.”
“I love you, Mama.”
With that, the young healer turned, and slowly walked out the door, his pace increasing as he broke out into a sprint, his light magic illuminating the way through the dark forest.
─ ⊹ ⊱ ⟡ ⊰ ⊹ ─
“6:57. Well done, Pure Vanilla.”
His father leaned against the door as Pure Vanilla stood ramrod straight on the steps, stilling his heavy breathing as he was openly scanned up and down.
The older cookies nodded, a small smirk forming in the corner of his mouth, “Good. Now, I need to head inside for a moment, stand by the gate and I’ll be out in a moment. I have something to discuss with you.”
Pure Vanilla nodded, slowly walking to the front of the lawn. He leaned slightly against the fence, his heart racing as he pondered what his father could possibly want from him.
It felt like hours had passed before he heard the undeniable sound of gravel crunching as something got closer, and it was too noisy to be his father coming toward him. His heart raced, something that loud could only mean trouble.
He turned, seeing the large, black carriage being pulled by two massive Choco Horses, whose coats of jet black were adorned by silver and navy blue bridals. Two soldiers wearing the kingdom’s emblem on their armor ran toward Pure Vanilla with their swords brandished.
“He matches the description!”
“Get him!”
Pure Vanilla yelped as they seized his arms, forcing him to his knees. Tears spring to his eyes as the gravel dug into his skin. There was a slamming door, and his father calmly walked over, shock on his face as he approached.
Is he coming to save me?
“Sir! Is this your son?” One of the soldiers yelled.
Pure Vanilla’s father’s gaze flickered to him on the ground, and then back to the guards, “This is my son.”
“He is wanted for numerous crimes, sir.”
His father seemed to smirk before his face grew grim, “Well then, if his description is perfect, then he must be guilty. Goodbye, Pure Vanilla.”
With that, he spun around and walked away as Pure Vanilla was helplessly dragged into the back of the carriage, ropes tying his wrists together behind his back as he was roughly thrown into the back of the carriage. The door was roughly shut behind him, drowning out the sound of his desperate screams.
“Father?!” He sobbed, “I didn’t do anything!”
Pure Vanilla sniffled, his eyes misty as he felt the carriage shift with the guard’s weight. He brought his knees to his chest as he allowed his healing magic to flow down to his legs, where jam gathered around the scratches and gashes he received from the gravel.
He was jostled around for what felt like hours before the carriage finally stopped, and the carriage shifted as the soldiers walked toward the door, the soft click of a lock signifying their entrance. Pure Vanilla couldn’t do anything as the two dragged him back out of the carriage, his throat too dry to scream or cry anymore. He felt too weak, his stomach growled, and his legs felt like jelly underneath him.
His voice was raspy as he whispered, “Please, I didn’t do anythin-”
The guard pressed their sword to his throat, their words clipped and low, “Silence, or your punishment will be worse.”
Pure Vanilla teared up once more, his chest tight with overwhelming emotion, from the pain of not seeing his mother to his father’s blatant betrayal, to being arrested for crimes he didn’t commit, the young healer was at his limit.
His breathing got slowly faster and faster as the soldiers finally stood him up outside of the carriage. Pure Vanilla looked up, his heart leaping into his throat as he looked up. Infamous in its GreCookian influences, the Chocosseum loomed in the distance, its cream-colored pillars standing out beautifully against the midnight black walls of the building itself, a design reminiscent of the night sky shimmering with magically infused light glittered over Pure Vanilla’s head. If he wasn’t so stressed, he would’ve been in awe, but he was afraid. He knew what the colosseum stored inside.
The Kingdom of Night’s most powerful and dangerous criminals were sent here to fight. Cookies of old once forced their young to fight in arenas just like this, but the current ruler, King Blueberry Cream Cookie, deemed it morally wrong, but the masses rallied for entertainment. So, the king deemed the arena a fitting punishment. Pure Vanilla felt as if the final nail in his coffin was placed as the soldiers led him through a back part of the arena.
He meekly looked at one of the guards, who kept his head turned away from the young healer. Pure Vanilla’s heart thudded against his chest as they walked past various run down prison-cell like rooms, silver bars shining against black walls, illuminated by a singular light.
Pure Vanilla yelped as his arms were untied from the ropes, and he was suddenly roughly thrown into one of the rooms, the bars promptly sliding shut and locked behind him.
“Wait!” Pure Vanilla cried, to no avail. They were already walking away from him.
He collapsed on the ground, tears dripping onto the ground as he wailed for someone, anyone. His mother, his father, even the nice cookie who always looked after him at work, but no use.
Pure Vanilla took a deep, shaky breath before he stood up, he was a mature cookie, he shouldn’t be on the ground sobbing!
He glanced around his cell, the monotonous colors of black and white suspiciously similar to his room back at his father’s house. A single bed sat at the far right corner, and a small room to the side held a sad little toilet and sink, the only privacy screen being a raggedy old curtain. He sat on the bed, his head placed in his hands as he tried to think of any reason why he’s sitting here right now.
“Well hello there young man!”
Pure Vanilla jumped at the voice oddly close to him. He turned to where he heard it come from, seeing a large crack in the walls between his cell and the voice’s own. He slowly moved toward it, peeking through. An older cookie, whose tan dough was decorated with lines betraying his age, stared back, his light brown eyes scrunched at the edges.
“Hi?” Pure Vanilla’s voice wavered as his suspicion rose.
The older cookie smiled softly, shifting in his cream robes as he offered his hand through the crack, “I’m Elder Cinnamon Cookie, what’s your name, kiddo?”
“Pure Vanilla Cookie…?” he whispered, offering his own hand hesitantly in return.
“Oh my, you’re just a kid!” Elder Cinnamon exclaimed as he pulled his hand away from Pure Vanilla, his face scrunching up in concern, “You shouldn’t be in here, then, Pure Vanilla…”
“They don’t believe me, I didn’t do what they said I did!” he muttered.
Elder Cinnamon frowned, “Oh, dear.”
The young healer sighed, turning away slightly, “I don’t know why I’m telling you, though.”
“I won’t say anything to those guards, Nilla, is it okay if I call you Nilla?” he paved on, not waiting for an answer, “You look absolutely exhausted, dear. I assure you, I mean no harm to you.”
Pure Vanilla tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at the older cookie, “So… why are you in here?”
The older cookie sighed, “I fought against the Midnight Kingdom in the Great War. I was a soldier for the old Kingdom of Light.” he paused, seemingly lost in his thoughts before he smiled softly, “You remind me of that kingdom, you know.”
The Great War, a war between the kingdoms of old and kingdoms of new. The Midnight Kingdom was among the five allied kingdoms of old. In the war, every kingdom faced mass casualty, but none greater than the Kingdom of Light, whose population was completely wiped out. Since then, an uneasy peace deal was created between the kingdoms of old and new, but conflict constantly threatened the fragile peace between them.
Pure Vanilla frowned, “I- I do?”
“You do. In fact, would you happen to wield light moon magic?”
The younger slowly nodded, and the older cookie stood back, a joyful grin on his face, “You are such a hopeful light in this old cookie’s dark days, kiddo.”
Pure Vanilla felt a smile creep onto his lips as the old man pressed his face against the crack, his whole face squished into the rough rock, “Well, dear, I believe I have a gift for you, if you’ll take it. I’m too old to fight in the arena now. From what I was told, I believe I have been assigned to monitor you, Nilla. They specifically had me bring this, even though they knew I couldn’t fight. Too old to legally do it.”
He disappeared from the crack, soft shuffling noises signifying his movement on the other side of the wall. Elder Cinnamon reappeared with a seemingly simple golden sword handle, a star pattern etched delicately into its surface.
“This is a sword made for powerful light wielders, turning light into a solid form to fight, it’ll help protect you, Nilla.”
Pure Vanilla carefully took the sword, his magic fluttering to the surface as he subconsciously pushed his magic into the conduit.
Blue light formed an impressive longsword in Pure Vanilla’s hands, the blade crackling with barely-restrained energy.
“Woah! That’s the most well-formed blade I’ve ever seen for a cookie as young as you!” Elder Cinnamon beamed at the young cookie and he spun the sword in his palm, his eyes wide as he stared at the blade.
“Thank you!” Pure Vanilla whispered, his hands shaking, “Why, give it to me? I don’t deserve this?!”
Elder Cinnamon’s face softened into a mix of concern and endearment, “Well, they normally pull new arrivals into the arena early, and I could tell you needed any help you could get, dear.”
“Oh…” was all Pure Vanilla could get out, his earlier fear and panic coming back as he pulled his magic from the blade, “Wait, could you explain the arena? They didn’t say anything to me.”
“Really? It’s their protocol to inform you of that once you get in here… and it's pretty unlike the king to arrest such young cookies, they wouldn’t be sent here…” Elder Cinnamon frowned, “Your arrest... can you describe it?”
Pure Vanilla recounted the rudeness of his arrest, and Elder Cinnamon raised a suspicious eyebrow, “That’s… very out of their protocol. You also said your father didn’t stop them and smiled?!” he paused, a very deep frown on his face, “What does your father look like, Nilla?”
He provided the most detailed description he could, further deepening Elder Cinnamon’s frown, “His emblem, on his tie, can you draw it in any way?”
The younger cookie nodded, drawing the symbol shakily out of light.
Elder Cinnamon loudly gasped, “The Sect of the Eclipse? That’s your father?! Dark Chip Cookie?”
“Yeah?”
He went silent before gently whispering, “Nilla, your father is a dangerous man. He must have used you to evade arrest.”
Pure Vanilla quietly sat on his bed, “Father… used me?”
“I think so Nilla, he must’ve bribed those soldiers to take you, no questions about it.”
Deep down, despite wanting to believe the best of his father, Pure Vanilla knew Elder Cinnamon was right. His shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath, holding back his tears once again.
Of course, the temporary peace was shattered when he heard the loud thuds of footfall coming from the end of the hall.
“Pure Vanilla Cookie, hands in the bars.”
The young cookie turned to see the two guards standing on the other side of the cell. He slowly made his way over to the bars, where he carefully put his hands through.
“On the ground! Not standing!”
Pure Vanilla yelped and yanked his hands away, falling to his knees and sliding his hands through the bars once again, allowing the guards to tie his hands together.
“You, old cookie, you brought in the sword, did you give it to the child?”
Elder Cinnamon’s weary voice was drowned out by the pain of being dragged across the ground. Pure Vanilla took a sharp breath inward as jam blossomed on his legs. The guards entered his cell, finding the sword handle laying on the ground. The guard who picked it up scoffed, “This is your sword? Pathetic! Where’s the blade?!”
His laughter echoed in the tight space as Pure Vanilla silently healed himself, keeping his magic’s glow to the lowest light he could.
One guard took hold of Pure Vanilla’s arms and the other released him from the ropes, tying his hands behind his back once again. He was promptly dragged upward and forced to walk down the corridor. They passed many cells not too different from his own before they reached a smaller room, its walls a dingy grey and covered in dried jam.
Pure Vanilla was thrown inside with his arms unbound, his legs collapsing underneath him as he fell to the ground.
“You get an hour to train before going into the arena. Use it wisely. Oh, and here’s something for you to eat.”
A pathetic little tray was shoved into the room before the door slammed shut.
Pure Vanilla uncurled himself from his place on the ground, a sob catching in his throat. He quietly shuffled over to the food, only finding a meager potion of star jellies, filling, yet fairly bland. He finished the meal and curled back into himself, his fear and confusion creeping into his mind as he pressed himself against the wall.
A loud clatter suddenly rang out through the small space as his sword was lazily tossed in, the shiny gold handle bouncing slightly over to him.
The healer turned to the sword, staring at the guards who glared at him. The first guard let out a long sigh, “Get up, you useless healer.”
Pure Vanilla felt his fear completely disappear as anger took over. Ignoring the guards mocking laughter as they left, he stormed over to the handle, his magic forming the shining longsword once again. He turned to the wall where there was a single practice dummy, it’s straw fresh, unlike anything else in the grim room. Light surrounded the dummy, changing it into a visage of the guards.
His first strike cleaved the dummy in half. Pure Vanilla promptly shot the falling other half with a fiery ball of light, igniting the straw as it blasted around him. Although a grim part of him felt satisfied, he felt horrible that the satisfaction was coming from the thought of killing. A small part of him, however, considered the history and rumors of the arena, overriding fear with need.
Pure Vanilla spun around, tears streaming down his face as a mechanical dummy suddenly flew toward him. He quickly side-stepped the moving target, sending another round of light streaming around the target. It spun like Saturn’s rings, before squeezing the target until it exploded.
He gasped, falling backward from the blast. His hands were glowing brightly around the hilt of the sword, his offensive magic coming to him easily, even though he rarely ever practiced. He gently brought his hand up to his necklace from his mother, tucked underneath his robes just like the small bag she gave him. It hummed along with his magic, the pulses he felt in his hands reciprocated in his gemstone.
Pure Vanilla sat down on the ground, the remnants of his magic shimmering around him. He simply sat there, forming a protective shield so he could sit without being attacked. Even as the guards burst in, making him drop his shield, and roughly pulling him upward, the shock from his outburst settled on him, the sheer amount of magic he used that would’ve normally made him sleepy brushed off as if he had never used it at all.
The door to his cell soundlessly clicked behind him as the guards left, not even bothering to throw the young healer into the cell. They just pushed him in and shut the door.
He slowly sat down on his bed, staring at his hands. Pure Vanilla tilted his head, trying to see if anything had changed.
His thoughts eventually whirled into sleepiness as the young cookie yawned, flopping down onto his bed. Not even bothering to pull the sheets up, he promptly fell asleep.
─ ⊹ ⊱ ⟡ ⊰ ⊹ ─
“Get up, kid.”
Pure Vanilla shot upright in bed, his bleary eyes searching the room for the voice. He peered outside of his little cell, seeing the guards there once more, waiting expectantly. He slowly stood up, feeling incredibly apprehensive.
“You got selected to participate in the arena today. You will start off easy, don’t worry, little buddy.” The other’s voice, slightly deeper than the first guard, seemed a bit too sarcastic for Pure Vanilla’s comfort, yet he chose to stay silent.
They trekked through the dim halls, eventually coming upon an intricate silver door. It was slowly opened for Pure Vanilla to walk into before being roughly shut behind him. He yelped as something hit him square in the back.
“You forgot your stupid handle.”
Pure Vanilla’s shoulders slumped as they left giggling at him. He turned around, slowly picking up the handle, his magic sparking as the longsword grew once again. The young healer looked around the room, his heart racing as he faced a simple row of swords and shields, covered in barely-cleaned jam.
His voice was shaky as he whispered, “Oh no.”