Sophia was fifty-one years old the first time she traveled back in time.

Blindsided by Amina's betrayal, she'd sobbed in a cell while Luke withered away and died before her eyes, in that first timeline. Five years passed before Constance managed to free her, buying Sophia's freedom with her own life. Another ten she spent on the run, until the night she defeated Amina and collapsed alone in the ruined mausoleum, and received word the next day that King Manford had simply shriveled away.

Erin was dead. Her parents were dead. Émile became head of the elected council, and Sophia retreated to Amina's cottage, the only place in the world too cursed for visitors to risk. The only place she could be alone.

Twenty quiet years passed while she gathered the skill and the power to turn back time, and this is where her tale begins anew.


She blinked abruptly into existence. Cinderella's marble statue lay before her, lit by a faint glow. In the back of the crypt, the glass slippers glowed white hot. Even as she watched, the light quickly faded. She quickly took stock of herself: She was wearing a corset and the tattered powder-blue remains of her ballgown. The spellbook and her satchel of ingredients hadn't made the journey.

"Cinderella is dead," a distantly-familiar voice said behind her. Sophia spun around.

Red hair peeked out at her from under the hood. "Constance!" Sophia gasped.

Constance flinched. In one fluid motion, she whipped off her hood and cloak. Her dagger was in her hand before the cloak touched the ground. "How do you know my name?" she growled.

"Whoa!" Sophia held her arms out disarmingly, though she was already charging the shield spell in the palm of her hand. "I knew you," she tried. "I traveled back in time."

It seemed to have some effect. Constance lowered her dagger, and her murderous glare shifted into confusion. "Look, mystery girl—"

"Sophia."

"Look, Sophia," Constance tried again. "I know things aren't easy in Lille, and you must be exhausted. Come rest for a night, alright?" Her voice had the gently, coaxing quality of a caretaker humoring a patient touched with madness.

"I'm very sane, Constance. I'll prove it to you. You're the sixth-generation descendant of Gabrielle—"

Constance gasped, though she kept her hold on the dagger.

"—and your book has a picture of Cinderella's mother crumpled in the driveway."

"It does?" Constance asked, surprised.

"It does."

Constance held the dagger up and ready while she checked her book. Her eyes grew wide, and only then did she sheath the weapon and tuck it away. She dropped down onto the floor of the mausoleum with a heavy sigh. Took three deep breaths with her eyes closed.

She finally looked back up at Sophia. "Tell me everything," she said.

- O -

When dawn came, they set out on the most direct route for Amina's hut, with Sophia foraging for ingredients as they went. At the border, Sophia put the guards to nightmarish sleep with the incantation she'd learned from Amina's spellbook. In the woods, Sophia masked their scents and sounds with burnt lavender and a whispered word.

Constance watched her with admiring eyes. "You're my fairy godmother," she murmured.

They watched, hidden, while Amina tended her garden and drank her tea, her willowy form moving through the rooms and long black hair trailing behind her. She seemed oblivious, but an uneasy feeling nudged at the back of Sophia's mind. When night fell, Sophia cautiously crept up to Amina's slumbering form with her dagger raised.

"Wait," Constance whispered from just behind. "You said her true appearance was a wrinkled old crone."

"She changes her appearance so as not to frighten visitors..."

The pieces clicked together, the realization settling in dawning horror, and in the same instant she found a clawed hand at her throat. Constance cried out behind her as Amina lifted her bodily from the ground.

"Foolish child," Amina cackled. "I was quite aware I had visitors. Did you think hiding your scent would fool me? I can detect life force."

She squeezed tighter, and Sophia's vision began to fade, when suddenly Amina let her go. She fell retching onto the floor and scrambled back, gulping in air. Her vision cleared.

Sophia gasped. A large gash covered Amina's face's, bloody but shallow, and suspended between them was...

"Run," Constance whispered. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes falling gently on her blood-stained face and a gaping hole in her chest.

In an instant, Sophia made up her mind. She fled the cottage, Constance's dying plea echoing in her ears.

It was only by magic that Sophia avoided being spied by the crow or sighted by the wolves. At Lille's border, the guards were now so numerous she had to transform into a beetle to scuttle past. It took her the better part of a day to get out of view. That night, she gathered the ingredients and returned to Cinderella's tomb. She put on the glass slippers.

"Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo," Sophia chanted, first softly, and then louder. "Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo." She clasped her hands over her heart, felt the warmth gather in her palms, and when she carefully brought her hands away, a little orb of light rested in her cupped hands: a bit of her life force. The room around her appeared duller, and her feelings held a touch less vibrancy, as she lowered the orb to the shoes.

The instant the orb made contact, a blinding flash filled the tomb. Sophia closed her eyes against the brightness.


"Please help me rescue my friends," Sophia begged, kneeling before Amina with her head bowed.

It wasn't a lie. When she looked up, her expression was earnest, her tears completely sincere. Attacking Amina head-on had failed miserably. It had taken the better part of a night to convince Constance, but perhaps if she could be persuaded on a journey, she'd let her guard down.

Sophia had concealed her magical abilities when they'd gotten within a day's journey from the cottage. They'd had to sacrifice the horse again.

But Amina had looked at Sophia with something resembling sorrow in her eyes. She'd frowned as Sophia described Erin's engagement and bruises, and Constance had frowned for an entirely different reason.

This time, the western border was guarded by the usual two, complacent fools. Amina snuck them through. Amina found the prisoner cells.

Her expression became wretched when she watched the haggling slave traders. The horrid baron walked away pulling a ragged young girl by the wrist. She looked no older than ten. Amina waited until they were out of the palace before transforming him into a frog with a whispered word.

Luke was the last to come stumbling from the cell. "Sophia!" he cried, throwing his arms around her. In this timeline, he had only been there a few days, and the ball was fresh on his mind. "Were you chosen?" he asked anxiously.

Sophia laughed. "Worse. I escaped. I'm the most wanted fugitive in the kingdom," she wheezed.

Luke chuckled too, uncertainly, until he realized it wasn't a joke. After that, he insisted on coming along. "I can distract the King," he said, grabbing a decorative sword from the wall. "I thought I would die in that cell. Dying to bring him down is a step up, no matter the outcome."

Sophia hesitated just a fraction of a second, Amina's tormented expression weighing heavily on her mind, yet it was a fraction too long. That brief moment was all Amina needed. She raised her hand and gripped it into a fist, and instantly Sophia's body burst into unbearable pain. She collapsed to the floor, sobbing.

Just as quickly, the pain was gone. Sophia opened her eyes: Amina was engaged in battle with Luke and Constance, the two of them fighting with all their might. As Sophia watched in horror, Amina knocked Luke's sword away and blasted him in the chest. He slumped to the ground. Their eyes met.

"Go!" Luke whispered with his last breath.

Sophia nodded once, then turned and ran. Constance's dying wail echoed behind her.


This time around, Sophia did not hesitate. All through the journey to Amina's cottage, and the journey back to Lille, she rehearsed the crucial moment in her head. When the time came, she stabbed at Amina's back with all her might.

Her crystal dagger bounced harmlessly off Amina's skin, as if it were armor.

"What?" Luke shouted, confused.

"No," Constance gasped.

Sophia fled back to the tomb, her friends' dying wails ringing in her ears.


Attacking with magic was no better.


How had Amina gotten so impenetrable? Sophia tried to remember how she's killed Amina the first time, all those years ago. It had been an all-out battle, after years of preparation, with Émile at the head of an army of girls from far and wide, trained and molded into warriors. Across from them, on the steps of the palace, stood Manford at the helm and Amina in his shadow, three steps down. And in the heat of battle, with Manford draining life force from girls by the dozens, Amina had—

She'd turned and walked away.

She'd left the battlefield behind, walked serenely through the bloodied earth littered with shriveled faces and snow-white hair. It was said that where she stepped, the horrified expressions on the newly-dead smoothed into calm, and their glassy eyes closed into sleep.

She'd gone alone into Cinderella's tomb, where Sophia, wild and desperate, had caught up with her and plunged a knife into her back. She'd fallen facedown upon the damp earth and died without a sound.

Her powers had been exhausted from battle, Sophia decided.

- O -

This time, when she faced Constance once more in the tomb, Sophia didn't pause to stare at Constance's bouncing curls or her lovely face. She quickly and efficiently told her tale, explaining and proving her words in one hasty breath, then jumped straight into strategizing, while Constance was still blinking at her with her mouth open. They wouldn't have the army this time, but she had twenty years of solitary magic training at her fingertips. She was certain she could mount a challenge: Manford might have more years on her, but he was spoiled and complacent. She doubted he had any combat training.

Only when they were on their way to the palace did Sophia realize she hadn't felt that spark with Constance, the intense yearning bordering on pain. She'd been so focused, and so tired. Her feelings blurred together and evened out, worn away like precious gems under sandpaper, like truth stripped from stories under Manford's unjust rule. The forest was dim around her, and even Constance's once-vivid hair appeared dull to her eyes.

Just tired, she told herself, after so many failed attempts. Just stressed.

Sophia muttered a quick sleeping curse to disarm the guards. They freed the prisoners and brought them back to Cinderella's ancestral home, which Sophia shielded with a concealing charm.

"Sophia! Were you chosen?" Luke asked, throwing his arms around her.

Sophia laughed humorlessly. "Worse. I escaped, learned magic, and traveled back in time," she said, holding up her hand and materializing a tiny flame.

Luke stopped short. He stared into her bone-weary eyes, searching her face for an explanation she was too drained to give. His face hardened, and he nodded. "I don't understand, but I trust you. And I can see this is far more serious than I imagined," he said.

They waited three days before attacking. Time for Manford to discover the missing prisoners, shore up the palace's defenses, and summon Amina to his side.

Sophia unlocked the gates with a whispered spell, and then locked them tight behind her: with no prisoners in the castle and none able to enter, at least Manford wouldn't find anyone's life force to drain. She cast a quick enchantment with a sprinkling of crushed rose petals, to render her dagger as sharp as thorns. She jumped at Amina with the dagger raised high, only to be shoved aside by a blast of wind, cast from a tiny flick of Amina's finger. Amina smiled and pointed at Sophia. She ducked, and a huge hole erupted behind her, the wall crumbling in a heap of pillars and dust.

Her next spell hit Sophia squarely in the chest and erupted into crystal vines around her. Sophia gasped as little crystal thorns pricked into her skin and drained light from her body. Her magic was weakening. With a start, she realized it was her magic flowing out of her and into the vine.

She'd underestimated Amina's power. With the last of her strength, she flung a hand out, sending off a burst of magical energy that shoved Manford over and into a wall. "Run," she whispered. Faintly, she heard retreating footsteps behind her back and out the demolished wall, before everything went black.

- O -

Sophia awoke in a lavish gray room.

She lay on a bed of rich, velvet cushions. The room was filled with antique furniture and black-and-white portraits. Heavy gray drapes hung over a window frame. The window itself had been filled with bricks.

The single door hand neither knob nor handle. Sophia pushed on it. It didn't budge.

She tried a simple spell to open the door. Nothing happened.

"It won't work, dear," Amina said, coming in from the other side and startling Sophia. She shut the door firmly behind her. "I was surprised and delighted to find another witch in these times. I'd thought I was the last." She gave a sad smile. "No matter; This room is warded to drain your magical energy. You cannot cast while you are in here."

"So that's how it is?" Sophia spat. "You're holding me prisoner in Cinderella's gilded cage?"

Amina heaved a deep sigh. "The King finds you very beautiful and wishes to keep you."

"You mean he wants to torture me." It was just like before, just like in her original timeline where she'd spent five years as Manford's prisoner, secluded in this exact room to be drained little by little. The same as he'd done to Cinderella. Only, she was sure the room used to be blue.

The last time around, Constance had saved her at the cost of her own life. Her Constance, whom she had grown to love over shared meals and travels, stories by the fire, and later kisses.

Her Constance was gone. She'd barely spoken to this timeline's Constance, and certainly could not count on a rescue.

"Yes," Amina sighed. "It brings me no pleasure. It's little comfort to you, I'm sure, but all the same, I am sorry." She left a little tray of food on the table. The lock clicked shut behind her.

The first few times Manford visited were excruciating, the white light rising out of her, the ensuing shakiness, the nausea, and the plunging sensation in her gut. After that, it was better: Amina's tea grew pungent, and belatedly, Sophia's realized that Amina was slipping her numbing potions through her tea. She briefly debated refusing, but her straggling mind was too weary to care, and she gulped them down gladly.

The days slipped by, all alike, all an endless gray. And thus, five years passed.

- O -

One day, the door burst open with a bang.

Blearily, Sophia looked up. It had been a harsh few days for Amina. Imprisoning Sophia had emboldened Manford, and his excesses were worse than ever. He now personally took a dozen girls at every ball. None of them ever survived the year. The ball would be held that night, and as it drew nearer, Amina's lips pressed into a disapproving, flat line.

Lost in her silent, gray world, Sophia hadn't noticed. But even she startled when the door slammed open.

Constance and Luke stood there, bleeding from dozens of cuts but triumphant, and with them was Amina. "Go," Amina whispered without preamble, pulling Sophia up and shoving her towards her friends.

Sophia stopped in the room where she'd been pushed and stood there, dull, lifeless, with no more will than a doll.

"Sophia," Luke gasped. He rounded on Amina. "What have you done to her?"

"I didn't do anything," Amina growled in outrage. "I brought you here to save her. Manford drained her life force a little each day until she became, well, like this."

Luke began to pull Sophia through the door, but Constance held up a hand. "I can fix her," she said firmly, with only the faintest tremble in her voice. She looked at Amina, and an understanding passed between them.

"What are you going to..." Luke trailed off as Constance took Sophia's wrinkled, unresisting hands, and gently kissed her. When their lips touched, Amina began chanting under her breath, and a glowing white light surrounded Constance. Amina chanted louder until she was screaming each word, each syllable, and then suddenly she tapped Constance on the back. The white light shot out of Constance's mouth and into Sophia's. She staggered backwards and fell onto the bed.

Sophia blinked twice. The fog in her mind was clearing away. She jumped up, more alert than she'd been in years. The room was again the lovely powder-blue of Cinderella's gown. And where she lay crumpled in a heap, Constance's hair was brilliant red again.

Her sheer love for Constance slammed into her then, squeezing her chest so tightly she couldn't breathe. She pulled Constance into her arms and touched her cold face, held her close, searching for the heartbeat that wasn't there.

Luke pulled at her arm. "We have to go," he muttered urgently. Sophia shook him off. Without looking up, she reached into herself and plunged into the stolen light, an electric current in her skin, and sculpted a spark into a spear. She flung it out.

Amina didn't flinch or cry out when it impaled her and skewered her to the wall.

- O -

"Sophia."

She plucked another handful of foxglove and stuffed it into her satchel.

"Sophia."

A faint rustling in the underbrush caught her attention. She pointed, and the squirming rabbit floated through the air towards her.

"Sophia! Listen to me!"

"What?" Sophia rounded on Luke, and behind him, the cart carrying the shrouded body.

"Don't do this," Luke pleaded. "Don't resurrect her with that spell. She fought so hard, and now Manford is dead. Let her rest."

"You don't understand," Sophia wailed. "I love her in this and every timeline! She was the first person who saw me, who loved me as I am. Who didn't want me to be different! I can't let her go!"

"I do understand." Luke pulled her to the grass, and she sat with him, miserably. "I was distraught after Louis," Luke reminded her. "I thought about him day and night. I begged for a fairy godmother to visit, not to bring me finery, but to find my Louis. I wanted to see him even if it he was rotting in the ground. But he wouldn't have wanted this—she doesn't want this. She doesn't want to be a walking corpse, she doesn't want you bound to one, and she doesn't want to kill that rabbit!"

The rabbit hung in mid-air, kicking furiously, hopelessly outmatched yet struggling with all its might. It's little eyes bulged and its chest fluttered frantically.

Sophia sighed. With a wave of her hand, the rabbit dropped back into the bushes and scampered away.

She rested her head on Luke's shoulder. "How did you do it? How did you go on living?" she asked quietly.

"I had understand, truly understand, that he wasn't coming back. I had to let him go."

"And how did you let him go?"

He put an arm around her, held her close and stroked her hair. "Time," he murmured sadly. "Only time."

- O -

In the dead of night, Sophia slipped away while Luke slept. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't let her go."


She blinked abruptly into existence. Cinderella's marble statue lay before her, lit by a faint glow. In the back of the crypt, the glass slippers glowed white hot. "Cinderella is dead," a distantly-familiar voice said behind her.

"No," Sophia ground out. "Stay away from me!"

"Hey, hey!" Constance lowered her hood and held up her hands. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I'm Sophia, I traveled back in time. You're Constance, sixth-generation descendant of Gabrielle, and your book has the true story of Cinderella hidden in the illustrations," Sophia snapped. "And in every timeline, you end up dead because of me. Just please, if you get a chance... Luke and Émile are in the palace dungeons. Manford is Charming, he can't be killed, and the only way to defeat him is to kill his mother Amina in the White Wood. She's the fairy godmother but she's really a wicked witch. Did I forget anything?"

Constance gaped at her. Sophia plucked a pebble off the ground and muttered a quick spell. She shoved the now-glowing pebble at Constance. "Here. This will unlock any door," she said. Her eyes were hot with unshed tears. She turned and fled before they could fall.

"Wait," Constance called from behind. "Will you help us? The resistance could use a fairy godmother in battle."

"You're better off without me," Sophia whispered. Her footstep faltered, but she didn't turn back.

- O -

A month into her exile, she sensed a flicker at the edge of her awareness, a faint flash of dizziness.

The next day, Luke crashed into her secluded hut.

Physically he hadn't aged, but his eyes burned with a fierce determination. The squared shoulders, the set of his jaw, and his expression on his face all spoke of someone who was accustomed to command.

"How did you find me?" Sophia asked in shock.

"You told me where," Luke answered. "I traveled through time."

Sophia startled. Warily, she motioned for Luke to sit. She placed a cup of tea on the makeshift table in front of him and motioned for him to continue.

"Constance broke me free after a month in the dungeons, along with all the prisoners," Luke began. "We got away by hiding in Cinderella's tomb. Constance was determined to find you. Said you were a fairy godmother. We were searching for you for years, for as long as we could, until we had to fight."

"What happened?" Sophia asked.

Luke shook his head. "After our escape, King Manford summoned Amina to the castle. With her power, he grew bolder. More girls were turning up dead, and it was too much to bear. About ten years after our escape, we went into battle without hope, and everyone perished."

Luke broke off, trembling. He took a deep breath, steadying his shaking hands, then continued. "I was Constance's battle commander. With her dying breath, she begged me to find you. She never stopped searching for you, said there was something special about you. She felt a connection to you, even though she'd barely spoken ten words to you, as if you'd been partners in another life."

Tears were trickling down Sophia's face. Messily, she scrubbed them away. When Luke met her eyes, his were wet as well. "She said you were worth fighting for, and I agree. Sophia, you're the most honest, determined, and spirited person I've ever met. It was worth everything to find you."

Sophia clasped his hand, lost for words.

"Amina caught me as I left the battle. She blinded me—no, it's ok," he said at Sophia's startled gasp. "I thought I'd been cursed. She said that I'd never find you by looking, I had to search. And I did feel different after that, something leading me through the woods. For a while I thought I was walking into a trap, but what did I have to lose? I wandered blindly through the woods for weeks. I was hungry and cold for most of it, but I never starved nor froze to death. Then I found you."

"You restored my sight and cast the spell. You'd laid down your arms, you weren't willing to fight again. But you came to the tomb with me and finished the spell, and I traveled into the past. I turned up the day Constance freed me, when we'd hidden in the tomb."

Footsteps sounded outside. Sophia half-rose, her hand reaching for her satchel and a spell on her lips. Luke glanced around darkly, a shadow crossing his face. "We don't have much time. The guards caught up to us on the way here. Constance and the others tried to hold them off, to give me time to find you."

"Constance and the others are dead," Manford's voice rang out. "And soon, you will be too."

"Go!" Luke urged, glancing at the back door.

Sophia nodded. She quickly ignited a raven's feather and waved the smoke around both of them, turning them invisible. "To help you in your fight," she whispered. "Thank you." She slipped out the back door, and Luke raised his sword.


Amina. It all came back to Amina. She had never been defeated when hope still lived, and she never struggled nor suffered in battle. She was always absolutely untouchable, invincible, until she abruptly flamed out and died in one clean hit with that sad, tortured expression on her face. Always misery, never pain.

The same sad expression she'd worn when she glanced at the photo of the little boy on her mantle.

"Oh, Amina..." Sophia sank down and sobbed right there in the tomb, before a confused and alarmed Constance, who draped a cloak over her and eventually wrapped her arms around her.

First they freed the prisoners. Émile led the rest of the prisoners to safety while Luke accompanied Sophia and Constance to the White Wood.

"What do you want?" Amina snarled. "A philter to persuade a lover? An elixir to make you beautiful? Need someone dead?"

"Tell me about your son," Sophia said quietly.

Amina froze halfway through pouring a cup of tea. Her eyes flicked to the portrait, then back to Sophia, wide and startled.

"What was his name?" Sophia asked.

Slowly, Amina sat down. The tea sat forgotten on the table. She began to speak.

"Charles was a sweet baby. A pretty baby with little round cheeks and chubby little fingers. His toes were like little round grapes, and he had a sweet, wide smile. Everything he did was charming. You're so charming, I used to tell him all the time, even when he whacked me with my own staff."

"When Charles grew older, he was a sweet child. He made up stories about the birds and rabbits in our yard. Gave them names and personalities. He could always tell them apart. He was so thoughtful, he begged me to help every traveler who passed through our little home. He loved to hold my book while I tried spells or baked cookies."

"He was the light of my life. I was happy to see him every single day. I was grateful to be here on this Earth, his mother, even when the townsfolk were cruel. It was worth every minute to come home to him, when he'd come running out the door and into my arms. It's worth everything I have to be his mother."

"Everything changed after he died. I wept for a fortnight. I was flawed and weak, worthless as his mother. But I couldn't let him go. I raised him from his grave and bound my life to his body. I failed to protect my child in life, but thanks to my magic, I had another chance. I wouldn't fail again. And I never have." Amina's face crumpled, staring into her tea clutched in her trembling hands. When she spoke again, her voice shook.

"He wasn't the same. Colder, crueler—something had changed. Some essential part of him was missing. I hug him, but he's cold in my arms. I kiss his cheeks, but he doesn't smile. I animated his body, but his heart is still. The beautiful child I loved is gone. But I can't let him go." She raised despairing, tear-filled eyes to Sophia's. "I can't let him go," she repeated. "He's a monster, I know. Still, he's all that's left of my child. I love him forever. I couldn't stop if I tried, and oh! How I've tried."

"How I've tried."

Cautiously, Sophia laid a hand on her shoulder. She sat quietly while Amina sobbed until her tears ran dry, thinking of her own mother and father in their little farmhouse, of Liv's parents and sisters staring red-eyed out the window, of the seamstress scooping up her little boy even when her own body ached with bruises. "I understand," she said softly.

- O -

King Manford's fall was without fanfare. "So you've finally arrived to deliver the girl. You're pathetic," he said to Amina. "Your magic is flawed and weak. You're as worthless as you've always been."

"I love you," she said simply. His eyes widened, and she took his face in her hands, the flesh stiff and cold against her palms, and kissed his forehead. "Come, my little charming Charles. The hour's grown quite late, and now it's time to sleep."

With wet eyes and an aching heart, Sophia cut the thread between two knots.

Two bodies sank to the ground, but only one held life. Amina sighed as she released her last breath.


Queen Constance and her council ruled over a just and peaceful Mersailles for fifty years, with her partner, the benevolent witch Sophia, by her side. Under their reign, Mersailles became a haven of laughter and learning. Luke became a trusted advisor, establishing schools and universities across the kingdom. Émile became commander in chief, training soldiers who were loved by children and trusted by all. And as for Sophia, her journey became the subject of the new generation's most popular fairy tale.

A willow tree still stands at the site of Sophia's childhood home. It's said that its leaves bestow blessings upon those who ask. Nothing as drastic as a ball gown or a carriage, of course, nor will it meddle in the affairs of love. But for those who come with a kindly soul and a determined mind, they might just find a spark of courage taking root in their hearts.

END