There is a moment in every child's life when they realize that they are not as special as they once believed. It doesn't happen instantly, as that would almost certainly be traumatic for the poor child undergoing such a sudden realization. No, it is slowly. First, they stop believing in magic. Then their nightmares of riding on winged horses while monsters chase them through an enchanted forest turn to nightmares of shame, embarrassment. Eventually, the child has grown old enough that they might not consider themself a child anymore. The thought will enter their head that fantasies are for children, and since they are on the brink of adulthood, they decide that they will focus their energy on what adults and the rest of the world consider "important."

Perhaps for some, the moment is disappointing, to leave behind the world of fairy tales. Perhaps for some, it is exciting, to enter the world of reality. There are adults who, even at an age where they should be mature, consider the universe to revolve around their wants and needs. There are children who never thought of magic at all, and children who believe that everyone and no one is special at all. But for the majority of children, it is this moment that is the shift from being a child to gradually becoming an adult. More than any physical change that they may undergo, or any birthday that will come and pass.

After all, who wakes up on their birthday feeling any different than they had the day prior? What "magic" do birthdays hold? Every day is the birthday of someone. Birthdays are simply our way of clinging to that last bit of childhood that no one wants to let go of.

Elle woke up on each of her birthdays with a smile on her face, certain that it was the dawn of a year where things would change. Elle thought that everyone was equally special, and that did not mean that no one was special at all. For Elle, the moment where childhood ends for some never came. Though her body grew into adulthood, and her mind matured to gain the necessary intelligence of a fully grown woman, her heart didn't age for a moment. Magic, to her, was as real as the sun when it went behind the clouds.

It was only her twelfth birthday that came close to crushing Elle's resilient heart. That was the day that a carriage pulled up to the manor that she was living in, the windows draped in dark shutters. A tall man whom Elle knew as Paulo climbed out, holding a willow branch and wearing a grim expression.

Paulo was a colleague of Elle's father, both wealthy cartographers who dreamed of traveling around the world. Halfway to a mountain range far in the Western lands, their carriage crashed, killing Elle's father. Paulo came home with one arm, no horses and no companion, and the willow branch that Elle's father had gotten for her as a gift.

That was the same day as what should have been Elle's father's second anniversary to a twice-widowed woman known as Lady Donatella, who had two daughters of her own. All three of them terrified young Elle, and once her father was gone, they revealed their true colors, turning Elle into their very own housemaid.

But that was four years before the real danger arrived.

It started the night that Lady Donatella and her daughters, whom Elle was told to refer to as Lady Cordelia and Lady Imogen, were preparing for a royal ball. The prince of Elle's home kingdom had come of age, and he was looking for a queen-to-be. His three sisters were betrothed to princes from foreign kingdoms and would become queens far away, but as was the custom, the prince had to wed a girl from his own kingdom. Naturally, every maiden in that such kingdom was exhilarated and certain that they would become the next princess. All except one.

Elle had been preparing a plan to run away from her old house since she was fourteen, and the night when her stepmother and stepsisters wouldn't arrive home until the crack of dawn was the perfect opportunity. So as her stepfamily was putting on their bejeweled gowns and applying all sorts of gels to their hair, she was packing every belonging that she had in her father's old trunk. She had done everything that she could to protect her father's legacy, but she couldn't live in chains forever. At sixteen years old, Elle was going to take the swiftest horse in Lady Donatella's stables and ride him all the way to the next kingdom. They could never find her there.

Just as Elle placed a soft, cotton dress in her trunk, the tapping came. A slight pat-pat-pat from directly outside her window. Intrigued, she looked up and sucked in a sharp breath. Someone was staring back at her. Swallowing, Elle stood and backed away from the window, not breaking eye contact with the misty face looking back at her. Her back hit the door and her hand found the doorknob. Instinctively, it twisted. The face smiled and vanished.

"What the...?" Elle murmured, sinking down onto her knees. Something had appeared outside her window. A face, made of mist and fog. Lady Cordelia loved to taunt her, calling her a lunatic, a madwoman, simply because once, when Elle was thirteen, she had been caught pretending to talk to the mice in the attic. The insults never bothered her, as she was certain that Lady Cordelia was wrong, that she was sane. But whatever had just happened was not reassuring.

"Cinder-girl!" Lady Donatella's voice shoved its way into Elle's room. She groaned. Her real name hadn't been used by her stepmother nor her stepsisters since she was thirteen. Only "girl", or "Cinder-girl", or "maid." When she arrived in the next kingdom, she'd call herself Elle. It was what her parents had called her, despite the fact that her full name was Marielle. But Marielle was long. Marielle was formal. Marielle was the daughter, the stepsister, the servant, the damsel-in-distress. Elle was the runaway, the survivor, the girl who would start a new life, all on her own.

"My lady?" Elle called back, running her hands through her thick, blonde curls. One more night, she thought. The moment that they're gone I will be, too.

"Lady Imogen spilled cider on her gown. Clean it up and help her prepare another," Lady Donatella ordered. Her throat tight, Elle swallowed and shoved her trunk underneath her bed. Then she stood and opened her door, thinking over and over again; one more night, one more night, one more night.

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The night air was cool and crisp, and a gentle wind blew across Elle's face. In one hand, she held her father's trunk, bulging with every belonging that she owned. Her body was draped in a cloak that she had swiped from a trip to town. It had been on her stepmother's behalf, but sometimes, on such journeys, she took a few gifts for herself. After a few years of practice, pickpocketing came naturally. It was a shameful way to make a living, but Elle hadn't lived a very honest life. When she arrived in the next kingdom, that would change. All of that would change. 

But the promise of freedom is fleeting. It comes quickly, and the next second, it is gone. Elle may have escaped one cage. Nevertheless, she was hurtling headfirst into the next. 

"Well, aren't you a pretty thing?" Elle froze, and twisted around towards the voice, releasing a breath when she saw that it was only an old woman, sitting underneath the willow tree. The elder's words clicking, Elle flushed, pleasantly surprised. It had been a very long time since anyone had called her "pretty." To Lady Donatella and her stepsisters, she was the ugly girl of the cinders and the ashes. What choice did Elle have other than to believe it?

"I'm wondering if maybe you could spare a little bit of food? I've been traveling all night, and no one has been willing to give me anything," the woman whimpered. She couldn't spare any food. She needed every scrap if she was going to get to the next kingdom before she died of starvation. But the woman meant no harm, right? And she was hungry. What kind of selfish villain would let a poor lady starve? 

"Of course," Elle said, reaching into her bag and pulling out an apple. Smiling a little bit, she handed it to the woman. Instantly, she began to change. 

The woman's knotted, white hair turned to a pale silver, and untangled to become long, glossy locks. Her hunched back straightened, revealing her to be about three meters tall, towering over Elle, who was only about one and a half meters tall. The elderly folds on her face became smooth, and giant wings sprouted from her back, which were many shades of black and silver. Only her sparkling, deep blue eyes remained the same. Full of intrigue, and satisfaction. 

Elle didn't scream or stumble away. She simply gaped, shocked out of speech or movement. A gasp escaped her throat, and her knees suddenly gave way. Barely aware of her own body, Elle's hands were suddenly pressed against her mouth. Her heart pounded in paralyzing fear, blinking several times, trying to make this waking nightmare disappear. 

The transformed humanoid chuckled, tossing the apple in the air. The apple seemed like a grape in her massive hands. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced, little one," she said. "I'm your fairy godmother." Her tone was mocking, and Elle shivered. 

"Fairy godmothers don't exist," she sputtered. Fairy godmothers. Angelic creatures from the heavens, who came down from the stars to watch over people in need. Fairy tales. Mythology that had never actually existed, and never would. There were some in the stories that Elle's parents had told her as a child. She had stopped believing in those a long time ago. 

The giant sighed, running a hand through her hair. "No, I suppose you're right," she admitted. "I'm not much of a fairy godmother, anyway. But! I do think that we could help each other. I have something that you want, and I think that you have something that I want, as well." 

A deal. Elle should have known. "I have nothing," she whispered, trembling. "What do you want?"

"There's a royal ball tonight, is there not, Elle?" she questioned. Elle's heart dropped. "I think that a pretty girl like you should go. Go, and be a winner. Win the heart of the prince." The demonic fairy godmother cackled. "Then rip it from his chest and bring it back to me." 

Elle's jaw dropped. "What-you want me to kill him?" she cried. "No! I can't-I won't! I'm not about to go-"

"Little one, does it sound like this is an option?" the woman broke in. "I have friends all over the world. Now. You're going to do this for me, or they are going to make sure that you never leave this house. Not only that, but your life here will become so miserable that you will come crawling back to me, groveling and wishing that you had taken a chance. But if you do this for me, your new life? You'll be the happiest girl alive, and you won't remember this at all. You'll be a legend. A hero. That's a small price to pay for one life." 

"No it's not!" Elle screamed, tears streaming down her face now. But the prince was a monster. His laws destroyed lives, kept the cruelest kinds of people in power and forced everyone else into the dirt. He had killed countless of innocents and locked many more in horrible prisons. Still, didn't killing him make Elle just as much of a monster? 

"Well, if that's your decision," the giantess sighed. "I guess I'll just have to-" 

"Wait," Elle murmured, burying her face in her hands. "I'll do it," she forced out. "I'll get the prince's heart." Not that he had one at all. 

When Elle looked up, the fairy godmother was grinning maliciously. "Fantastic," she hissed, and the entire world went dark.