I couldn't breathe. The air in the room was heavy with something electric, charged with the pulse of raw power that surged through Cinderella's trembling form. Her body was still shaking uncontrollably, and her hands clenched at the fabric of her dress as though she could hold herself together by sheer force of will.
But I knew better. There was no escaping it now. Whatever had been unleashed inside her, it wasn't something that could be controlled with a mere will to fight. It was bigger than that. More dangerous.
The prince, still standing across the room, watched us with cold amusement. His eyes never left Cinderella, his lips curled into a cruel, satisfied smile. It was like he was savoring the moment, waiting for the inevitable breakdown to come.
"You see, Red," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper, "this is the cost of power. It demands everything. Your body, your soul, your very essence. And it never gives anything back."
I could feel the weight of his words like chains around my chest, but I couldn't show weakness. Not now. Not when Cinderella needed me.
"Shut up!" I shouted, my voice raw with fury. "You won't get away with this. We're not your puppets."
The prince's smile faltered for a brief moment, but only for a second. He wasn't worried. In fact, he seemed almost bored. "You think you can fight destiny, Red? You think you can change this? This has been set in motion long before you even walked through that door."
I turned to Cinderella, my hand on her arm, trying to steady her. "Cinderella, listen to me. You have to fight this. You can't let him control you. You are not your father's legacy. You are not a weapon."
But she was looking at me with wide, terrified eyes, as though the words weren't reaching her. She opened her mouth to speak, but the only sound that came out was a low, guttural growl, like something deep inside her was fighting to break free.
I could feel it. Whatever had been triggered inside her, it was clawing its way to the surface, filling the space between us with an almost unbearable pressure.
I gripped her harder, refusing to let go. "Cinderella, look at me," I pleaded. "You have a choice. You can still control this. You can still choose to be you."
Her body jerked again, and she let out a scream—a sound that was more animal than human. I flinched, the noise scraping at my nerves like nails on glass.
"Please," she gasped, her voice strained. "I don't know what's happening. I don't know what's inside me. I can't control it. I can't..."
I felt a deep pang of sorrow for her. She wasn't the enemy here. The prince was. He had done this. He had turned her into something she wasn't, and now, she was paying the price.
The prince laughed, low and amused, as though he was enjoying the spectacle. "There's no controlling it, Cinderella. That power doesn't bend to your will. It takes what it wants. And once it's taken everything, it leaves nothing behind but ashes."
His words cut deep, but I couldn't let him win. I looked into Cinderella's eyes, and for a moment, the power seemed to waver, the light flickering like a candle in the wind. There was a spark of recognition there—of hope, maybe.
"You're stronger than this," I said, my voice firm, determined. "You are stronger than this. You can fight it. You can fight him."
She looked at me then, and for the briefest of moments, her expression softened. "How?" she whispered. "How can I fight it when I don't even know what's happening?"
I could see the fear in her eyes, but there was also something else: determination. It wasn't gone. Not yet.
"You don't have to fight it alone," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm here. We'll fight this together."
The prince stepped forward then, his face twisted into a snarl. "You really think you can save her? You think you can stop me?"
I stood my ground, glaring at him. "I'm not trying to save her from you," I said, my voice steady. "I'm trying to save her from herself."
His eyes narrowed. "You're wasting your time, Red. She's already mine."
I felt a surge of anger at his words, but I forced myself to focus on Cinderella. "You're not his, Cinderella. You never were. And you never will be."
I could see her fighting it. The way her fingers twitched, her chest heaving with each breath. She was trying. I knew she was. But the force inside her... it was too strong.
A low, guttural sound escaped her throat, and I feared she might lose herself to it completely. But then, something shifted.
Her hands clenched into fists. Her entire body went still. And for the first time, she looked at the prince—not with fear, but with defiance.
"I am not your weapon," she said, her voice low but full of strength. "I will never be your weapon."
The prince's smile faltered for a split second, and for a brief moment, I saw something resembling uncertainty flash across his face. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same cold, calculating mask.
"You'll see," he said softly, his eyes narrowing. "You'll come to understand. The power inside you... it will take over. And when it does, you'll have no choice but to join me."
He turned and began to walk away, but I didn't take my eyes off him. "We'll stop you," I called after him. "No matter what."
The prince didn't answer. He didn't need to. He knew he had the upper hand, and for now, there was nothing we could do to stop him.
But I wasn't giving up. Not now. Not ever.
I turned back to Cinderella, who was still trembling in my arms, but her eyes were clearer now—stronger. She wasn't lost anymore.
And together, we would find a way to make sure the prince never had the power he craved.