The sound of shattering glass pierces the air.
A youthful-looking witch stirs in her rocking chair as the fire casts deep shadows across her face. Her crystal familiar hovers nearby, reflecting the flame just like her glass slippers.
She pushes open the door and steps out from her forest cottage. Following a path overgrown with vines and thorns, she arrives at an old castle. With a gentle wave of her hand, a shimmer of magic sweeps over the rusted gates as they creak open, revealing a bygone time.
The ballroom was pitch black. Ash and debris littered the once magnificent halls, telling a tale of ruin and decay. Scattered across the floor were piles of crystal fragments, jarring and oddly out of place. Once, they were the most illustrious nobles in the country; now, just rubbish.
"That's Father... always threatening to throw me out on the streets."
"And my stepmother, whose favorite pastime was bullying the weak."
"And... my dear stepsisters. I can still see their faces, screaming for the witch to be executed."
"..."
strolled along, nonchalantly naming each pile of crystals that she had "created." She continued until she reached the foot of the throne, where the only discernible crystal statue stood. A handsome face, twisted with fear, forever frozen in time.
"Your Highness..."
reminisced about her past, a fairy tale come to life. A reliable father, a gentle mother, and a gifted little girl, blessed with her mother's affinity for magic.
But magic can't conjure happiness. After her mother succumbed to illness, her father remarried. found herself with a new stepmother and two spoiled stepsisters. was kicked from her room and forced to sleep by the kitchen hearth. Perpetually covered in soot, they began calling her "little ashes."
"Mother said... I must not use my power..."
Young cradled the crystal seed her mother had left her, whispering to it again and again.
At this time, the prince had announced that he was in search of a bride. Grand balls were held for days on end and all eligible young women in the city were in attendance. However, when it came time for to attend the ball, her stepmother and stepsisters chained her to the hearth. In her moment of despair, the crystal seed finally responded to her pleas, sprouting into a crystal pumpkin familiar and a pair of dazzling glass shoes before whisking her away to the ball in secrecy.
On the first and second nights, lived in a dream. She danced with the prince in fairy tale bliss. But when the third night came, the prince, holding her stepsister's hand, announced to the attendees that she was to be his chosen bride.
It was all nothing more than a cruel game, and the girl's sincere heart, just another trophy for the prince. This was to be the end of the story, one written by the nobility from the very beginning.
Love?
There's no such thing.
Her innocence, her kindness, even her beautiful attire - they all became her shackles. As the taunts and jeers surrounded her, sank into the mire. Then, something dark flowed out from her heart and took the shape of a witch.
"Then let me take over."
The visage of the witch stood beside the crumpled girl as flames raged all around her.
slowly ascended the stairs as her magic surged wildly, spreading from her feet until it enveloped her completely. She was now the Witch of Cinder. And in that moment, all the despair, weakness, and helplessness that had once defined the girl was burned away.
Her magic extended to every corner of the room, corrupting and twisting everything around her. With a simple raise of her hand, flames engulfed the entire castle. The nobles fled in panic, only to be turned into crystal statues.
What sight it was to behold; their fearful gazes, their twisted faces. Screams, cries, wails, curses - the witch reveled in it all. Her carriage transformed back into her familiar and cackled grimly at her side.
Innocence and kindness could not protect the girl, and neither could power and wealth protect the rotten nobles. Only those with true power can change their destiny.
"Don't you agree, Your Highness?"
The ageless witch flicks her finger and cracks shoot across the statue like a spider's web. Shattered fragments hit the floor as a golden wind sweeps through the castle, turning the remnants of the past into swirls of ash.
continues making her way through the castle. She passes the grand staircase, now forever crystallized in time. She passes an otherworldly tapestry, woven from golden thorns intertwined with prismatic crystals. Two magical servants in formal attire bow to the witch, graciously inviting her to step onto her stage.
The girl is no more.
Long live the witch.
