The opulence of the princess chamber was utterly obscured by the crushing darkness of the expansive hall, illuminated only by a meager sliver of moonlight. This pale glow barely kissed the massive room, shedding just enough light to reveal the carnage that had been kept at bay until now. The former elegance of waltzes and glittery dresses, the fragile truce of diplomacy—all had evaporated. The makeshift safeguards meant to keep each princess safe were now eliminated. The night had become a crucible, a visceral battle for survival where the true war for the princesses had begun. What was once a fluttering hall of grace and beauty had been transformed into makeshift barracks, now supporting troops from enemy lines.
Over a hundred princesses had been gathered here, their cots clustered in wary, allied groups along the gilded walls. Only the most powerful seemed to command peaceful rest. Princess Fox lay within a profound barrier of glacial ice, so thick and impenetrable that any attack would shatter it before reaching her, a violent alarm guaranteeing her instant awakening. Serafina's entire body was shrouded in a sheath of sluggish water, its surface shimmering; any touch would instantly meet with profound resistance, slowing the assault enough for her to counter. Guinevere's bed had been transfigured into a gnarled, towering trunk of an ancient, resilient tree, allowing her to sleep as peacefully as if she were rooted to the earth. Each princess had her own bed, vanity, and a large chest for her clothing, all now pushed to the walls to form strategic alliances.
Each woman had carved out a territory in the grand hall, their allies forming a protective perimeter around their secured sleep.
All eyes, however, were fixed on the center of the marble floor, where Daniela's cot sat in stark, deliberate isolation.
She slept with a peace that was both infuriating and absolute. Her breathing was slow, even, shielded from the surrounding whispers of plotting and betrayal. Around her neck, the chain of her black onyx necklace vanished beneath the lace of her nightgown, but the stone itself pulsed against her skin. It didn't merely glow; it emanated a deep, churning light—utterly silent, utterly contained. The air in the room, though heavy with the expectation of violence, did not yet carry the scent of blood or ozone.
The most formidable princesses had succumbed to sleep, but those waiting to gain the upper hand lay as if resting, their eyes narrow slits, waiting for the precise moment to strike. Those loyal to Jasper, whose enmity seemed only to be for Daniela, were the most restless.
In the oppressive stillness, hushed words could be heard easily. Princess Ashley huddled with three other wind users, a temporary alliance forged only by their shared elemental magic and their unified devotion to Jasper—and their shared adversary, Daniela.
"How can she sleep so peacefully?" Princess Jennifer whispered, her voice a brittle sound, her innate power already stirring as she began to condense air until it was sharp as obsidian glass.
"She's probably so overconfident, she thinks a Prince's affection is something that will keep her safe." Princess Ashley's normally serene, cute face scrunched up in disgust, transforming her soft features into something harsh and pinched.
They paused as a light snore drifted from the center. Daniela shifted, her arm lazily hanging off the side of her plush bed. She slept like a woman without a single care. It was utterly humiliating. They had been starved of sleep and racked with anxiety, yet there was Daniela, completely at ease.
"What does he even see in her?" Tiffany spat, her long braid swinging with her frustrated movement.
The wind users' clandestine movements did not go unnoticed. Several fire mages had turned, their eyes glittering in the candle glow. They knew the carnage was about to begin and were content to let someone else bloody their hands first. All across the hall, women pretending to be asleep watched with bated, terrified breath for the end of Daniela.
Tiffany broke from her cluster, her face a mask of cold fury and lethal calculation. Ashley remained at a safe distance. The wind users unleashed a barrage of razor-thin blades of hyper-compressed air, intended to slice through Daniela's skull and end the threat instantly.
The wind-blades whizzed through the thick air, the sound a harsh, piercing shriek that forced a few princesses to clap their hands over their ears. Their hope to kill Daniela in one stroke was instantly annihilated. The compressed air met a resistance more profound than ice or stone: the space around Daniela turned a visible, opaque black. An inky, churning barrier of solidified void was now visible, shielding her from their attack.
As the first blades struck the barrier, a sudden, sharp, chemically-clean scent of ozone mixed with a briny hint of the ocean flooded the hall, and the air immediately became thick with the metallic, coppery tang of fresh blood.
The barrier pulsed violently as the wind-blades struck. Instead of penetrating or dissipating, the attacks were reflected off the dome with more permanence and power than any of them thought possible. The malicious energy ricocheted wildly, the supercharged compressed blades shooting back into the room, their trajectory random and fatal.
Tiffany's eyes went wide with pure terror as the power of the blade that raced back towards her seemed to have doubled, imbued with the malicious counter-force of the barrier. Before she could raise her own power to suppress the returning attack, one of the wind blades sliced clean through her throat. A geyser of warm, arterial blood spurted from her mouth and neck as she crumpled to her knees, collapsing into a heap on the cold marble floor. The sickening sounds of wet gargles and limp bodies hitting the ground followed as other ricocheting wind-blades found new, unsuspecting targets.
Ashley managed to duck and summon a weak wind-barrier around herself, but it was not enough. Their attack was not just ineffective against Daniela; it was catastrophic against their own faction and the surrounding rivals. Screams and visceral cries erupted everywhere, and the temperature of the room seemed to spike as an elemental massacre was unleashed.
A cascade of elemental power erupted.
The water users, pulling from the ornamental basins meant for washing and hydration, hurled torrents of gushing water from the south. The fire users, channeling their power from the small candles lit beside their beds, sent out torrents of burning fire from the north. The earth users, drawing on the power of the potted plants they had called forth, launched jagged, earthen spikes from the east towards the original wind users.
The air was now suffocatingly thick with the smell of blood and ozone, mixed with the rising steam and the deep scent of overturned earth.
Once again, some of these attacks struck Daniela's ever-pulsing barrier, sending one of the sharpened Earth spikes hurtling towards the water users, quickly followed by the shriek of more Wind magic. The room was a pure war zone. The princesses weren't just fighting each other; they were desperately trying to dodge the supercharged, random ricochets of power that were exponentially strengthened and hurled outward by the black barrier.
Princess Samantha had unleashed her water magic, forming suffocating pools of water that encased a rival princess's head, allowing her to drown silently while her feet remained dry. She watched as the victim gasped soundlessly on the water, their terror unseen through the liquid barrier.
Bella, channeling her power from her small bedside candle, sent a torrent of roaring flames in every direction, uncaring of her targets. She even angled her flames to hit the barrier, recognizing instantly the black void's potential to amplify her destruction.
Jaden felt like she was drowning in the chaos. She huddled low with her group, barely believing that Daniela possessed such an impenetrable, selfish shield. As her allies threw out varying attacks, Jaden maintained a water barrier to slow down any incoming blows. When a fireball—obviously propelled to breakneck speed by the barrier—came hurtling toward her, she shrieked in panic, "Move now!" Her barrier could never withstand the supercharged heat.
Heather cackled with manic glee as she watched another princess fall. The more dead, the better her chances. Drawing on the potted plants she had in her area, she grew thick, thorny vines from them, using them as brutal whips, slicing into the exposed skin of rival princesses, tearing open flesh and drawing screams as they slipped on the warm, sticky blood of a fallen comrade. She reared back her arm, ready to lash out at Bella, but Bella was faster. She shot off one of her fireballs toward Heather. Instinctively, Heather dodged, only to notice Bella's power sputter. The flame in Bella's hand extinguished and reignited four times before finally coalescing into a whole orb.
Heather grinned—Bella had exhausted her magic. Reaching behind her, she began to grow a large, wicked Thorn Spike from one of her flower pots, only for the same thing to happen to her. The spike withered and died right as it grew, only to start growing again. Her power was sputtering, failing.
The two women shared a single, profound look. Something was terribly wrong. "Truce!" Bella shouted, her voice cutting through the sounds of combat.
"Truce!" Heather yelled back.
"Hey! is anyone else's power sputtering?" Bella yelled at the top of her voice, her words a temporary antidote to the rising chaos. The room began to still. The torrents of ripping magic seemed to dissipate with the shocking realization.
"Yeah."
"Let's call the truce. We need to know what's going on." Bella repeated.
Heather gathered with the other Earth users—alliances had dissolved into the need for understanding. After this bloodbath, there were few of them left, few of anyone left. The realization hit her with sickening clarity: there were less than 60 princesses remaining. Over 200 had been killed or disqualified in days.
The other princesses stayed in their allied clusters, every muscle tense, ready to resume the attack the second this tepid truce dissolved.
"It's her fault," Bella declared, stepping out of the small circle of Earth users. "Do you all remember a scent—sweet, yet overpowering—during Daniela's performance?"
Some princesses nodded, others remained still, their memories clouded by the night's trauma.
"She poisoned us? Why aren't we dead? Who did she poison specifically?" Ashley demanded, her magic stirring uselessly within her, the desire to strike Daniela now a deep, frustrated agony.
"Some of us Earth users noticed that day. But the combination... I thought she just got her ratios wrong and missed some ingredients. It wasn't a poisonous mixture," Bella said, confusion warring with terror in her tone. Her dark brown hair was a wild mess, and blood was still splattered across her cheeks.
"She is far more dangerous than the rest of us. Her poison targets your magic. It weakens it. The longer the toxin stays in your system, the more likely you are to become a cripple, like her. And the more we use our magic, the more permanent the effects become. No one can use their magic. We need to make the antidote." Viola spoke, her hateful eyes locked on Daniela's sleeping form. The princess was smiling in her sleep, an expression that felt like a mockery.
"She said she had the power of manipulation. Now I know she wasn't lying!" Heather said, her voice a low, mocking tone.
"She doesn't have any power." Seraphine scoffed. Cleverness didn't equate to power; she was just sneaky.
"Look around you. Daniela wants us all dead. We all want each other dead," Ashley said, frustration a raw nerve. She ran her fingers through her short hair. "Instead of poisoning a few of us, hoping to kill us, she gave us a non-lethal poison." They had all disastrously underestimated that vicious cripple. "All of us!" she screamed, feeling her mind unravel. "Am I the only one who is slipping in blood right now?" She lifted her foot, feeling the warm, sticky liquid beneath her sole. The entire floor, once gleaming white, was now a shocking, gruesome red! "What is there—60 or 70 dead princesses?" She couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. "With a non-lethal poison, Daniela has taken out most of the competition! I don't care if she calls her power Manipulation. She has it. She has earned the right to name it. Look around. We are losing to one princess." She shouted, then turned, walking back to her bed. She lay down, her bloody feet painting her white sheets red, memorializing this deadly, abysmal night.
The other princesses received Ashley's words like a death knell. They had been underestimating and denying Princess Daniela's threat. She was winning. This was a competition, and she was winning on every front. They had let their preconceived notions guide their actions. In days, Daniela had done the absolute impossible, and none of them had believed it. Now, they all stood in the blood that Daniela had woven so expertly. She didn't even need to be awake to experience the crushing, undeniable victory she had achieved tonight.
Author's note:
Did you see this coming? Daniela doesn't do murder. She prefers a massacre. Like a fucking lady! Lol. Vote, leave a comment, powerstones. All the good things!