The screams that echoed across the stone confines of the ballroom rang throughout her ear. The guests began to run towards the nearest exit, stomping over one another in a violent attempt to get to safety. As the various suiters ran past the otherwise calm Princess, they pushed her to the side and growled obscene threats to anybody who was moving too slowly. As the ceiling began to tumble, Cateline took note of the cracking window. Her heart gasped at the sight, watching a shard begin to part from the frame and tumble towards the center of the ballroom. Her eyes landed at the imminent landing place where a man stood still.

His eyes were silvery, and his skin glowed with the power of the sun. Cateline held up her hands to shield her from the blinding source of light, watching as the mystical man stood with unwavering chants. With each breath he emitted, his voice roared louder. Beneath his feet grew a crack so rampant and violent that it blew a rush of wind throughout the girl's dark hair. She looked towards her parents who stood alongside each other, screaming for the guards to attack.

One by one, they ran.

One by one, they fell.

The man's gray hair began to rise into the air as he lifted his hands, fire erupting through the tips of his fingers in a triumphant blaze, scorching each metal warrior that flew towards him. His eyes turned into slits, the whites blackening and his lips curling into a smile as the men started to drop. The air filled with curls of smoke as the men blackened away in flames, echoing throughout her ears in a thunder or agony. Cateline stood in front of the Elven Warlock, his head cocking as the tips of her fingers glowed just as brightly as his.

"A witch..." the man spoke with a grumble, "I should have trusted my intuition more."

Her parents called for her to step back, to run away. Her parents were not mystical, they did not possess the powers she did. They discovered the curse set upon her at a young age and decidedly hid this calamity from the world. No training, no attempt at taming her growing strength—her parents wanted her to be a normal Princess. They would never allow her to be what was forbidden.

Ignoring their pleas, she felt the power grow within her core. It took every ounce of her self-control the prevent the uncontrollable eruption that was her magic, "What is it you want?"

"Step aside, little one," the Elf hissed, "your parents need to pay for what they did."

"My parents will not die at the hands of an Elf," her voice taunted, "let alone one that is simply throwing a tantrum."

Cateline hardly believed the discrimination against the Elven race, but if her taunts did anything, they fueled that rage deep-set within his chest. She wanted him to make any mistake to weaken that power that raced through those pale veins of his.

The man's smile twitched, his eyelid lowering as he fixated his black eyes on the marble floor, "And so the lamb meets the lion. You are the same as all of them."

For a moment, it was still. The Princess watched as the flames crawled up his arms, singeing the fabric of his shirt. The white hairs atop his head bled orange, illuminating the decrepit ballroom. Cateline let out a gasp at the sight, the burning man taking hollow steps towards her, leaving behind a trail of footprints outlined in flames.

Plumes of smoke fell from the ends of his hair, blazing the room behind him in a wave of heat that could be felt miles away.

Cateline opened the palms of her hands, allowing the glowing tips to expel strands of ice that encased her in a ball of ice. Slowly, the world around her froze for the slightest instance, the only sound outside this sphere of frozen water was her parent's audible screams as they ran to a back corner.

Through the thick layer, she saw the Elf stand outside her with a menacing grin, his palm pressed against the ice that slowly began to melt away at the heat.

He doubted her, as he should—Cateline was inexperienced and could very well fail. She closed her eyes, the warmth from the fire slowly making its way inside her shelter. Silently, Cateline whispered to herself.

"In est calor, ui in glaciem," she whispered. Nothing. So, she repeated, "In est calor, ui in glaciem."

The more she repeated, the more she could feel that familiar aura of energy grow within her chest. Cateline began to panic, the fire the Elf's hands emanated encompassing the ball of ice in a quilt of heat. In one final utterance and plea, the powers within her erupted.

It began at her toes. Ripples of ice coated the ground, pushing through the flames this Elven warlock ensued on the ballroom and crushing them with a hiss. Then, it traveled to her core and through her limbs, shattering the ball in an explosion.

Shards of ice flew in every direction, first piercing the man before cracking through the walls and glass. This power so prominent, it lifted the inexperienced witch off her feet, leaving her floating in the air helplessly. Her body was limp, her fingertips no longer radiating blue; instead, they resembled the blue tinge of lifelessness. As the Elven Warlock fell in defeat, holding the icicle that penetrated his heart, so did the witch.

───── ❝ 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊, 𝖊𝖓𝖛𝖞 & 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 ❞ ─────

Cateline woke with a gasp. She reached up to her face as a chilling feeling of water washed over her, the sky above her dark and full of stars. She looked around carefully, noting the pile of hay that she rested on. The wooden wagon creaked with each spin the wheels made against the gravel, droplets of rain pattering against the wooden perimeter of the carriage. Woefully, she sat up and looked around, her eyes falling on the man who held the harnesses. She sucked in a breath, gripping at the hay nervously.

"Where are you taking me?"

The man peered over his shoulder, his chin wide and came to an exaggerated point, the scruffy hair growing in patches and cascading down his neck unpleasantly. He took the piece of hay from his teeth as he spoke, his accent thick and incomprehensible.

"Mornin' Princee', King and Queen commandee' you come with me to another village."

She furrowed her brow at the odd speech pattern, wondering why her parents would send her off before she had even awoken. She stared down at her gown, bewildered they would send her so quickly after the conflict. The ride was bumpy and quiet, the wagon coming to a stop many minutes later. She carefully crawled out, wiping the strands of hay that stuck to the velvet of her dress. As she looked around at the village she was in, the peasants stared at her in awe. Most of them wore brown linen dresses and wool jackets. Their homes were wooden and coated with a layer of snow, the frost sticking to the grass as she took careful steps inside the village. A man walked up to her, his hunched over physique and tan skin a sign he was a worker.

"Looks like we have a Princess," the man grinned and did a curtsy. Cateline stared as he did the feminine bow, shaking her head before listening to him, "We have been waiting for you."

Without another word, he spun on his heel and led her forward, "For how long?"

"Three days," he responded calmly. "While we were comin' here, you never moved. Thought ye were dead! Every day, dead!"

Cateline curtly nodded her head, although the growing nervous pain in her stomach took precedence over whatever the man was saying to her. He was explaining where they were going, but the fact that she was out cold for not one, not two, but three days sent a trill of fear down her spine. If that outburst of magic could do that to her, she feared what else she was capable of, both within her power and her capability to harm herself. They walked up a stone pathway, wide and grand in its stature and eventually landed at a set of red doors. The man, again, curtsied before her and bid her adieu. Watching as he walked away, she began to wonder if he genuinely thought that was how he was to greet royalty. As he trotted down the stairs, he held a sword on his shoulder, cursing audibly when it sliced his skin.

With a shake of her head, the Princess turned back to the doors and carefully took the heavy golden handle in her hands as she lifted it to knock. Within the same instance of her knocking, the doors blew open and a woman stood tall, her ears pointed sharp and her eyes golden. When she spoke, her thin lips curled into a leer.

"Welcome, Cateline. I am glad your journey was safe."