Chapter 3: Fire Is My Answer
The nights in the Cold Palace were worse than the days.
There was no heating. No insulation. The wind crept through cracked stones like a phantom, whispering promises of death in her ears. The only warmth came from a thin wool blanket and Bella's own defiance.
It was her third night.
Three nights of silence. Three nights of scraping mold from the floor, carrying buckets of dirty water, and swallowing spoiled bread too dry to chew. Three nights of watching, waiting, remembering.
They thought she was broken.
They were wrong.
Bella Snow was watching everything. And tonight, she would act.
---
• Earlier That Evening •
A servant had left a candle behind—a mistake, a small one, but that was all Bella needed.
She waited until nightfall. Waited until the gates of the Cold Palace were locked, until the maid who delivered her food walked away, until the mansion quieted and the only sound left was her own heartbeat.
She took the candle, held it in her bruised hands, and whispered:
"I was thrown away. Laughed at. Treated like trash."
The flame flickered, small and hesitant.
"Your mistake wasn't locking me in here. Your mistake... was leaving me alive."
She tore strips from the thin curtain. Stuffed them into the dry hay she was meant to sleep on. She took the splinters of wood she'd hidden beneath the floor and stacked them around the room, careful and calm.
No panic. No fear.
Just clarity.
She lit the end of the cloth. The flame caught slowly, like it too was afraid.
But then, it remembered who it served.
---
• Now •
The fire bloomed.
Softly, at first. Then with rage.
It spread from the corner of the room to the old tapestries, to the wooden bed frame, to the cracked ceiling above.
Smoke curled around Bella's shoulders like a shawl. Her eyes reflected the inferno as if she were born from it.
The Cold Palace groaned, its ancient walls shivering under the weight of heat.
Bella didn't run yet.
Not yet.
She stood in the middle of the room, arms open, face lit by the fire.
"This was my cage," she said softly. "But I'm not a bird."
She turned toward the small servant door—the one rarely used. She had studied it. It wasn't locked like the main gates.
She kicked it open.
The cold air outside hit her like a slap, but she welcomed it. Her nightdress whipped around her legs as she darted into the garden, bare feet silent on the grass.
Behind her, the flames danced higher.
The Cold Palace screamed.
Servants began to yell. A bell clanged. Guards shouted orders. Chaos exploded behind her.
But Bella was already gone—through the hedge, across the northern path, through the storage fields.
She knew the layout. She'd memorized every escape route from the second night.
No one noticed a five-year-old sprinting toward the woods.
No one believed a child could do something so cruel… so deliberate.
---
• An Hour Later •
The forest embraced her like a mother the world never let her have.
She didn't stop until her legs gave out.
Collapsing by a shallow stream, she panted, gulping air. Her hands were covered in ash. Her hair smelled like smoke.
She looked up at the night sky.
A flicker of light still danced on the horizon—the Cold Palace, burning.
She smiled.
Not broken. Not abandoned. Reborn.
Bella Snow had made her declaration.
She was no one's victim now.
---
• Somewhere Far Away •
Christina stood atop a mountain of clouds, watching the burning estate through a divine mirror. Her lips curled into a soft smirk.
"She's faster than I expected," the goddess murmured.
Behind her, a hooded figure asked, "You approve?"
Christina didn't look away.
"She didn't cry. She didn't beg. She burned it down and ran. That's exactly the kind of villainess this world needs."
magic training, meeting new allies, or early revenge missions? Let me know and I'll continue Chapter 5 right away.