The air felt thick with the weight of uncertainty, as though the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something catastrophic to happen. Cinderella was still trembling in my arms, her body caught between the fight for control and the overwhelming surge of power threatening to consume her. Her eyes were wild, her lips parted in silent struggle, but there was something else now—resolve. She wasn't broken, not yet.
And I wasn't about to let her break.
The prince had retreated, vanishing back into the shadows of the grand ballroom with a cruel laugh that echoed in my ears. I could still hear the mocking ring of it in my mind, as though his voice was trying to dig into my skull, reminding me that we were playing on his terms now.
I looked at Cinderella, who was still clenching her fists. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her breaths came in short, shallow gasps. Her body jerked again, and I quickly wrapped my arms around her, holding her steady. "Cinderella," I said softly, trying to keep the panic out of my voice, "you're stronger than this. You can control it. We can control it."
Her eyes flicked to mine, and for the briefest moment, I thought I saw a flicker of doubt in them. "But I don't know how, Red," she whispered, her voice strained. "I don't know what's happening to me. The prince... he's right. It's inside me. It's changing me."
I shook my head, gripping her shoulders tightly. "No. No, he's lying to you. He wants you to think that, but you're not powerless. You have a choice. You always have a choice."
Her lips trembled, but she didn't speak. Instead, she closed her eyes, as though trying to block out the storm inside her. I could see the struggle, the fight she was waging just to remain herself, to keep from becoming something she wasn't. But the battle was far from over, and I knew that whatever had been unleashed inside her was only growing stronger with every passing second.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the heavy silence, and my heart skipped a beat as I recognized it.
"It's not over, you know."
I spun around, my hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at my side. There, standing in the doorway, was the prince. He'd returned, and with him, the air seemed to darken. His presence filled the room like an oppressive cloud, suffocating everything it touched.
"You think you can stop me?" he said, his voice a low murmur, almost mocking. "You think you can stop what's coming? The game is already in motion, Red. And you've only just begun to understand the stakes."
I stood between him and Cinderella, my body tensing. "Stay away from her," I growled, my voice barely a whisper.
The prince raised an eyebrow, an almost amused look crossing his face. "She's already too far gone, my dear. It's already inside her. The blood of her father... it runs through her veins. She was born for this."
I could feel the rage bubbling up in my chest. I wanted to rush at him, take that smug look off his face, but I held back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I focused on Cinderella, trying to keep my voice calm. "Ignore him," I said, my words firm. "You're not like him. You're not like your father. You're you, Cinderella. You have the power to choose who you are."
Her eyes darted to mine, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she seemed to focus. "But what if he's right?" she asked, her voice trembling. "What if there's no escaping this? What if I really am just a tool for his game?"
I shook my head, not letting her fall into that trap. "No. You're not a tool. You're a person. You're more than just what he's trying to make you into. You're stronger than this."
The prince let out a soft chuckle, as though my words were nothing more than a childish fantasy. "You're wasting your time, Red," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "This isn't about strength. This is about destiny. And it's not something you can fight. Not even with all the strength in the world."
His gaze shifted to Cinderella, and I could see the glint of something almost like admiration in his eyes. "You'll come around, Cinderella. The power inside you is too great to ignore. It wants to be free. And when it is, you'll see things the way I do."
I felt a sickening twist in my stomach at his words. I couldn't—I wouldn't—let him turn her into one of his puppets. Cinderella deserved more than this twisted legacy he was trying to impose on her.
I glanced at her once more, watching as she trembled, her hands gripping her dress tighter. She was fighting it. I could see it. And that, at least, gave me hope.
The prince stepped forward again, his boots echoing on the marble floor. He didn't stop until he was standing just a few feet away from us, close enough that I could feel the malevolence radiating off him. "You'll see soon enough," he said softly, almost lovingly. "This is who you are, Cinderella. And when you embrace it, you'll understand the power that's within you. You'll see the world through my eyes, and you'll finally realize what you were meant for."
But as his words washed over us, something shifted in the air. A soft whisper, barely audible, seemed to surround us—like a breath on the wind. It was Cinderella. I looked at her, and for the first time since all this madness started, I saw something different in her eyes. A spark.
"Get out," she said, her voice steady, though it still trembled with the strain of what she was fighting inside. "Get out of my head."
The prince's smile faltered. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice low, almost amused.
"I said, get out." Cinderella's voice grew stronger with each word. "I am not your pawn. I will never be your weapon."
I watched, my breath held in my chest, as she took a step forward, her eyes never leaving the prince. "You're wrong," she continued, her voice filled with an unshakable conviction. "You think I don't know what's happening? You think I don't feel it? But I am not you. I am not what you want me to be."
The prince's expression darkened, the mocking edge to his smile slipping away. "You're making a mistake," he warned, his tone cold and dangerous.
But Cinderella didn't back down. "No. You are," she said, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You think you control me, but you don't. You never did."
The room fell into silence, the weight of her words hanging between us like a challenge thrown at his feet. The prince's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching. For a brief moment, I thought he might lash out—might unleash whatever twisted magic he had at his disposal.
But instead, he turned, his back to us, and began to walk away.
"You'll regret this, Cinderella," he called over his shoulder, his voice thick with menace. "You'll regret turning against me."
Cinderella's body was still trembling, but her posture was straighter now. She wasn't defeated. Not anymore.
"Let him go," I whispered, my voice filled with relief. "We still have time."
She nodded, her face pale but resolute. "We still have time," she echoed.
And with that, for the first time in what felt like forever, I believed it, too. We weren't out of the woods yet, but we weren't giving up. Not now. Not when there was still a chance to end this.
But the prince would be back. I knew that. And when he came, he wouldn't be alone.