The rain continued its course. Thunder and lightning rumbled in the distance, cutting through the brief moments of silence.

The sky, covered in dense dark clouds, roared like a restrained beast, releasing its fury in irregular bursts that illuminated the world for no more than a blink.

Blurry images—like those memories drifting back and forth from the past into the present, projected before his eyes as if he had been the protagonist of a thousand misfortunes—appeared before him, distorted with the present.

They blended like reflections on disturbed water, impossible to distinguish clearly, warping faces, voices, and emotions into a chaotic mass that did not entirely belong to him.

He was carried in someone’s arms while his decaying body desperately searched for a way to survive. He felt the faint sway of each step, the crunch of debris under firm boots, the muffled sound of rain striking armor and cloth.

There, he saw blonde hair beside a suit of armor and, amid senseless murmurs, he said:

"Jeanne..."

Then his mind was swallowed by black sludge, spreading across everything he could see. Thousands of whispers filled the space, accompanying the brief, fragmented images of memories intertwining to tell a story.

Those voices had no form, yet they carried intent—echoes of something ancient and persistent, dragging him deeper and deeper into that bottomless abyss.

She was a small and elegant girl of royalty—a princess in every sense of the word. Though she was not beautiful like the princesses of other kingdoms; rather, her face was quite ordinary, like any village girl from the countryside. Her freckled skin, curious eyes, and slightly messy hair gave her a more human than noble air, something that contrasted with the fine dresses she usually wore.

But that never troubled her, for a princess is more than a pretty face. A princess must possess more than elegance, good manners, or the ability to socialize with high society.

She needed character, willpower—a strength capable of holding an entire kingdom together when everything else collapsed.

That was something she, Guinevere Cinderella, daughter of the King of Axorhibis, took to the strangest and most dangerous extreme.

At the age of eight, Cinder snuck into the soldiers’ supply wagons. In doing so, she was carried to the rear lines of the endless territorial war between Axorhibis and Warlock, which in turn caused great concern in her father’s kingdom.

The smell of leather, metal, and fresh food filled the crates where she hid, while the rattling of the carriage shook her small body over and over again.

With her remarkable talent for hiding, she remained concealed for three days, observing the soldiers’ behavior until, on the final day, they were ambushed by the enemy. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

During that time, she heard nervous laughter, hushed arguments, and the constant sound of weapons being prepared—as if danger were a permanent presence.

Surrounded in a clearing within a dark forest between the borders of both kingdoms, a fierce clash of swords echoed through that full-moon night, where the little girl came to witness the horrors of war.

Moonlight filtered through the branches, illuminating flashes of steel and blood in constant motion. Blood splattered, and soldiers fell one after another amid cries of agony.

Sharp weapons collided, shaking the ground. Spells flew everywhere, tearing the earth apart. The metallic scent of blood mixed with smoke and damp soil, forming a suffocating atmosphere that burned the throat with every breath.

It was an entire night of battle and death. The screams slowly faded, replaced by weak gasps and the sound of bodies collapsing onto the ground.

At dawn, Axorhibis’ squad emerged victorious, but suffered heavy losses. Of the nearly fifty soldiers who made up the squad, only ten remained. The silence afterward was even more terrifying than the battle itself.

Wounded, they returned to their supplies to treat their injuries and prepare their retreat, but hidden among the wooden crates was that unmistakable brown-haired girl. Her face bore a hardened expression, her eyes wide open, distant and traumatized. She didn’t even blink.

The soldiers immediately realized she was the king’s daughter, and without hesitation, they fled the area without tending to their wounds.

After that, landscapes passed one after another before the girl’s eyes as she was transported by carriage. The constant rattling made the wood beneath her feet tremble, while the sound of horses and wheels rolling over mud marked the rhythm of a silent journey.

Sitting across from her was a man with silver hair and blue eyes. He was missing an arm, the stump wrapped in blood-soaked bandages. The scent of dried iron lingered in the air around him.

He smiled, as if that alone could ease the girl’s trauma. When it didn’t work, he reached into one of the crates and pulled out an apple. He handed it to her and said:

"Eat. The princess must be well-fed, or we’d feel terrible."

Cinderella lowered her head and gripped the apple tightly. Her small fingers sank slightly into the fruit’s skin. Her lips trembled, and a couple of tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I don’t want to be a princess anymore," she said, her voice breaking.

In her childish mind, it wasn’t fair that people like the king and queen had to sit on their throne or travel across cities while soldiers suffered on the battlefield.

She had seen it. She had seen their faces—their expressions before dying.

Fear, regret, despair...

The soldier didn’t know what to do. He looked at the green landscape of trees surrounding the carriage and sighed.

"I don’t want to kill people either, but it’s what I have to do if I don’t want the people in my town to be slaughtered just like that."

Cinderella curled into a corner and bit into the apple. The soft crunch of each bite contrasted with the weight of her thoughts. Tears continued to fall down her freckled cheeks.

The soldier looked at her with understanding.

"What you saw that night—I know you’ll never forget it. It’s written all over your face: fear and worry, because you know the same thing is happening elsewhere. And I can’t give you comforting words, much less a shoulder to cry on. That’s the world, Princess. That’s the life waiting for you in the future."

"I don’t want that," she said, her mouth full of apple like a squirrel. The tears and snot on her face made her look miserable, but also oddly amusing to the soldier.

He let out a small chuckle, like a brief breath.

"You don’t have a choice. If your parents don’t manage to give you a little brother, then you’ll be the one ruling Axorhibis in the future. And if this war hasn’t ended by then, your reign will begin with the blood of many soldiers already spilled."

Cinderella grew worried at that. Her fingers tightened around the half-eaten fruit.

The soldier laughed nervously, realizing he had forgotten he was speaking to a small child.

"I’m not saying this to scare you. I just want you to think a little. That way, when you reach the throne, maybe you can be better than your parents. Of course, I’m not saying the current rule is bad—the king has always been a good man who listens to his people. Just look at these amazing armors. They’re some of the best you can get, and he bought them for us so we could be safer in war."

"Really?"

The soldier nodded at little Cinderella, who had finished her apple.

"Yeah. I’m sure that, like many soldiers, he’s afraid of what might happen, but he has to be strong for his people. Besides, our hands are already stained with blood—just like the king’s. That’s why I’m sure he understands how we all feel and wants to give us as much protection as possible. That’s also why you were able to hide in the supply crates—because the king sent us enough to keep us healthy and strong."

"Father did that...?"

"Yeah... but we all know that won’t last forever. War can’t go on forever; soldiers are finite, resources are finite. Both kingdoms have already lost enough, and we don’t need to lose more. Hopefully, with Holylight’s intervention in the war, the King of Warlock will think more carefully about the peace treaty."

"Holylight... That’s the kingdom where the mage Merlin is, right?"

"You know about Merlin, huh? Heh, who doesn’t know that crazy old man? But yeah. We’ll be getting some support from that kingdom. Also, they say King Uther is coming to the capital to speak with your father. There are rumors he’s bringing his youngest son. Maybe you’ll become friends with him."

"I... don’t have any friends. Only Mana, who cleans my room and changes my clothes."

"Well... having more friends is always good, especially if it’s a prince. Maybe you’ll fall in love with him and get married to unite the two kingdoms."

Cinderella lowered her head. Her face turned red and, with a trembling voice, she said:

"Don’t say stupid things. I’m not interested in falling in love with anyone."

The soldier laughed.

"All little kids say that. You’ll see someday—maybe someone will come along who wants to help you rule."

Cinderella thought about it, but she didn’t like the idea much. Still, deep in her chest, something unfamiliar had begun to stir slowly, like a small spark she did not yet understand.