The Hollow Throne
1047 Words
The gates of the Sugar Palace loomed ahead — once shimmering with crystal glaze, now blackened and warped like burnt caramel. Each bar pulsed faintly with veins of blue light, the residue of the Eterna syrup that had consumed everything.
The survivors stopped a few yards away, staring in silent awe.
Fizz exhaled softly. “I can feel it from here,” he said. “The air’s thick — it’s humming.”
Crumble gripped her chocolate blade tighter. “That’s not air. That’s power.”
Lolly said nothing. She could feel it too — a vibration in her bones, a whisper just beyond hearing, like the palace itself was alive and calling her name.
Lolly… come home…
Her fingers tightened around her peppermint staff.
“This is it,” she said, voice steady despite the tremor in her chest. “We end it here.”
⸻
They pushed open the gates. The sound echoed through the valley, a slow, groaning creak that felt like a scream.
Inside, the great courtyard of the palace lay in ruin. The marble frosting tiles were cracked, pools of melted sugar reflecting a ghostly blue glow. Statues of past rulers stood half-dissolved, faces warped and melting, their crowns fused to their skulls.
Fizz muttered, “I used to dream of seeing this place. Now I wish I hadn’t.”
Lolly walked ahead, her boots sticking slightly to the syrup-coated floor. The massive front doors were open, a soft light flickering within. The rot had reached every corner, yet the palace still stood — not collapsing, but breathing.
She could hear it — a deep, rhythmic pulse.
Thud… thud… thud.
“The syrup,” she whispered. “It’s alive.”
⸻
The grand hall stretched before them, pillars of candy cane twisting toward the ceiling like ribs. The chandeliers, once shining with rock crystal sugar, now hung with strands of blue syrup that dripped slowly onto the floor below. Each drop sizzled on contact, burning small holes through the marble frosting.
At the far end, the throne awaited.
King Licorice’s throne — carved from pure crystal sugar, gilded with gold glaze. But now it was black, pulsing faintly with light. Something sat upon it, slumped and still.
Lolly’s breath caught in her throat.
Her father.
At least, what was left of him.
King Licorice’s body had fused with the throne — skin translucent like glass, veins glowing with blue syrup. His crown was embedded in his skull, his eyes dark and sunken. The Eterna syrup flowed through him like blood, connecting him to the palace walls through thin, pulsing strands of sugar.
Fizz stepped back. “Oh, sweet hell…”
Lolly took a trembling step forward. “Father?”
The body twitched.
“Don’t,” Crumble hissed. “Lolly, don’t go near it.”
But the princess couldn’t stop.
She approached slowly, her footsteps echoing through the hall. The air grew thick, sweet and suffocating. She could feel the syrup moving beneath the floor, responding to her presence, rippling outward like waves.
Her father’s eyes opened.
The pupils were gone, replaced by faint blue light. When he spoke, his voice was twofold — one half his, one half something else.
“Lolly… my child… you’ve returned…”
She froze, tears burning her eyes. “Father… what happened to you?”
He smiled, and the sound was like glass cracking. “I saved us. I saved Candyland. I made it eternal. But eternity… has hunger.”
The syrup pulsed harder. The walls began to tremble. The survivors backed away.
Crumble shouted, “He’s part of it — part of the rot!”
King Licorice raised his hand. The blue syrup surged from the cracks in the floor, shooting upward like tendrils, snaring Crumble by the arm. She screamed as it wrapped around her, burning through her armor.
Lolly snapped out of her trance and swung her staff. The peppermint wood cracked against the syrup, shattering it like glass. She pulled Crumble free, dragging her behind a fallen column.
“Go!” Lolly shouted. “Get out!”
Fizz grabbed Mira, pulling her toward the exit. Patch fired bolts from his makeshift candy launcher, each one sizzling against the walls. But the syrup kept coming, flowing faster now, crawling along the floors and walls like veins of molten sugar.
Lolly turned back to her father. “Please — fight it! You’re stronger than this!”
He laughed, hollow and wrong. “I am it, my dear. Candyland lives through me now. Through us all. We are sweetness eternal.”
“Then I’ll end it,” she whispered.
⸻
The peppermint staff glowed as Lolly raised it high. Light burst from the cracks, red and white swirling together in a spiral of pure energy. The staff hummed, resonating with the pulse of the palace.
Her father’s body convulsed. “No!” he bellowed. The walls screamed with him — a chorus of warped, dying voices. The syrup surged upward, forming faces, hands, bodies of sugar and rot.
The survivors reached the doors. Crumble turned back. “Lolly!”
“Go!” she shouted again.
The syrup struck her from behind, slamming her into the floor. Pain ripped through her back. She forced herself to stand, raising the staff again, channeling everything she had left.
The peppermint glow intensified — a brilliant flare that cut through the blue light. For a moment, she saw her father’s face soften.
“Forgive me,” she whispered.
Then she brought the staff down.
The world exploded.
⸻
When the light faded, silence fell.
The throne was empty. The syrup had receded, evaporating into a faint mist. The survivors stood outside the shattered palace gates, staring back at the ruins.
Crumble’s voice was low. “Did she… make it?”
Fizz shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”
From deep inside the palace, the faint sound of a heartbeat echoed — soft, steady, and alive.
Thud… thud… thud.
⸻
Far below the ruins, in the catacombs beneath the Sugar Palace, a single blue droplet of syrup pulsed on the stone floor. It shimmered faintly, spreading into tiny veins that crept outward like roots.
Then, from the darkness, a figure stirred.
Princess Lolly opened her eyes.
They glowed faintly blue.
- Writer
