POV: Ella
The iron door slammed shut, and darkness swallowed me whole.
I threw myself against it, pounding with both fists. "Let me out! Please, somebody let me out!"
My voice echoed off stone walls, bouncing back at me like a cruel joke. No one answered. No one was coming.
I slid down the door until I hit the floor, my legs finally giving out. The cell was freezing—just bare stone and a thin blanket in the corner. This was where they kept criminals. Traitors. Monsters.
This was where they'd put me.
A fresh wave of pain rolled through my body, and I bit back a scream. The black veins had spread during the march from the festival. They covered my arms completely now, crawling up my neck like fingers trying to choke me. Every pulse of my heart sent darkness pumping through them, and it hurt. Gods, it hurt so much.
I pressed my hands against my chest, trying to feel anything besides the curse. But even my heartbeat felt wrong now—too fast, too hard, like something else was living inside me.
"This can't be real," I whispered to the darkness. "Wake up, Ella. Wake up."
But I didn't wake up. Because this wasn't a nightmare.
This was my life now.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor outside my cell. I scrambled to my feet, hope flaring in my chest. Maybe they'd reconsidered. Maybe Father had convinced the Council to help me.
The door opened, and three figures stepped inside carrying magical lights. I recognized them immediately—the Court Healers, the best in the kingdom. Relief flooded through me.
"Thank the gods," I breathed. "Please, you have to help me. The curse is spreading and I can't stop it and—"
"Step back, child." Elder Healer Tasmin raised her hand, keeping her distance. "We need to examine you."
I froze. She'd called me "child." Not "Princess." Not even "Ella."
The healers circled me like I was a wild animal, their lights casting harsh shadows on the walls. They whispered to each other, pointing at my veins, my hair, my hands. One of them—young Healer Brin who'd bandaged my scraped knees when I was little—wouldn't even look at my face.
"Can you heal it?" I asked, my voice small. "The curse, can you—"
"There is no healing this." Tasmin's voice was flat, final. "You touched the Shadowthorn Tree. Its magic has merged with your blood. You're transforming into something... else."
"But you're healers! You have to try!"
"We cannot heal what is already complete." She moved toward the door. "The transformation has taken root. By tomorrow, you won't be elven anymore at all."
"Wait!" I grabbed for her arm, but she jerked away like I'd tried to bite her. "Please, there has to be something—"
"I'm sorry." And she actually did sound sorry. "But the law is clear. Shadow Elves cannot be allowed to exist. They corrupt everything they touch."
The door slammed shut again, leaving me alone with those terrible words.
Shadow Elf. That's what I was becoming. Not cursed. Not sick. Transformed into the monsters from every scary story I'd ever heard.
I sank back to the floor, wrapping my arms around my knees. Through the thick walls, I could hear voices—lots of them, all talking at once. The Council must be meeting.
I pressed my ear against the cold stone, straining to hear.
"—cannot allow her to remain in the kingdom!" That was Elder Morvain, head of the Council. His voice always reminded me of rocks grinding together. "Her very presence threatens our magical purity!"
"She's my daughter!" Father's voice, loud and desperate. My heart leaped. He was defending me. "There must be another way. Exile her to the outer provinces, lock her away, but don't—"
"Don't what, Your Majesty?" Morvain again. "Let a Shadow Elf live among us? The barrier that protects our kingdom will reject her corrupted magic. She cannot stay."
"I agree with Elder Morvain." That smooth voice belonged to Theron. My blood went cold. "Princess Ella made her choice when she touched the forbidden tree. She knew the risks."
"She's barely more than a child!" Another voice—Elder Saera, one of Father's allies. "Surely we can—"
"A child who will become a monster by dawn," Morvain cut her off. "Every moment she remains within our walls puts us all in danger. The law demands exile. Permanent exile."
"But the wilderness will kill her!" Father's voice cracked. "She has no survival skills, no—"
"Then she should have thought of that before touching the tree." Theron's voice was so cold, so cruel. "Perhaps her death will serve as a warning to others who might be tempted by forbidden magic."
Silence fell. Long and horrible.
Then Father spoke, so quietly I almost couldn't hear: "When?"
"Dawn," Morvain said. "We exile her at first light."
Footsteps. The Council was leaving. I pressed harder against the wall, listening to them walk away, listening to them seal my fate without even asking me a single question.
Hours crawled by like years. I tried to sleep but couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Theron's satisfied smile. His little wave. His mouth forming those words: "Thank you."
The sound of the cell door opening made me jump. I'd been staring at the wall, watching the black veins pulse under my skin, wondering if I was still even Ella anymore.
A figure stepped inside, backlit by torchlight. My heart recognized him before my eyes did.
"Theron!" I stumbled to my feet, relief washing over me despite everything. He'd come. He'd finally come to tell them the truth. "Thank the gods. You have to tell the Council what really happened. Tell them you—"
Laughter cut me off. Not warm or friendly. Cold and mocking.
"Oh, Ella." Theron stepped closer, and in the torchlight, I saw his face. He was smiling. Actually smiling. "You really are as stupid as I thought."
The relief died. "What?"
"Did you honestly think I came to rescue you?" He circled me slowly, like a cat playing with a mouse. "After all the work I put into getting you exactly where I wanted you?"
My mind couldn't process his words. They didn't make sense. "But you... you said you loved me."
"I said what I needed to say." He stopped in front of me, his handsome face twisted with contempt. "You were always just a tool, Princess. A very pretty, very gullible tool."
"You're lying." But even as I said it, I knew he wasn't. "You told me to touch the tree. You wanted this to happen."
"Finally, she understands!" Theron clapped slowly. "It only took you being cursed and thrown in prison to figure it out. Yes, Ella. I wanted this. I planned every single moment."
"But why?" Tears burned my eyes. "What did I ever do to you?"
"You existed." His voice turned hard. "You stood between me and the throne. Your father would never name me heir while you lived. But I couldn't just kill you—that would make me look like a murderer. So I found a better way."
He leaned closer, his breath hot on my face.
"I made you destroy yourself. I whispered the right words, played the loving fiancé, and you walked right into my trap. You touched that tree all on your own, Ella. And now the kingdom thinks you're corrupted. Dangerous. They'll throw you out and beg me to take your place."
"You monster," I whispered.
"No." Theron straightened, brushing invisible dust from his armor. "You're the monster now. I'm the hero who tried to save you but couldn't. By tomorrow, I'll be named Crown Prince, and you'll be dead in the forest. If you even survive the first night."
He walked to the door, then paused and looked back.
"Thank you, by the way. You played your part perfectly. Sweet, trusting Princess Ella, who believed every lie I told her." His smile widened. "Did you really think someone like me could love something so... disgusting?"
The word hit me like a physical blow. Disgusting. That's what he thought of me. That's what he'd always thought.
"I hope the wolves eat you slowly," Theron said cheerfully. "Goodbye, Princess. Or should I say, goodbye, monster."
The door slammed. The lock clicked.
And I fell to my knees, sobbing so hard I couldn't breathe. Everything I'd believed was a lie. The man I thought loved me had destroyed me on purpose. My father had chosen his kingdom over his daughter. My people called me a monster.
And the worst part? They were right.
I stared at my hands, at the black veins pulsing beneath my skin, at the shadow magic that flickered around my fingers like dark flames.
I was becoming a monster. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Dawn came too soon.
Guards dragged me from my cell—different guards this time, ones who didn't know me, who yanked my arms without caring that it hurt. They marched me through the castle, through corridors I'd walked my whole life, past servants who turned away and courtiers who whispered.
We emerged into the morning light, and I saw the crowd. Hundreds of elves lined the path to the kingdom's border, all standing in silence. Watching. Judging.
Father waited at the magical barrier, the shimmering wall of light that protected our kingdom from the outside world. He wore his crown and his official robes. This was a formal exile.
He wouldn't look at me.
"Princess Ella Moonwhisper." His voice carried across the crowd, flat and emotionless. "You have been found guilty of willingly corrupting yourself with forbidden magic. The punishment is permanent exile. You are hereby stripped of your title, your name, and your place in this kingdom."
A guard stepped forward and lifted the small silver circlet from my head—my crown, the one I'd worn since I was ten. He tossed it carelessly to the ground.
Another guard produced a rough brown dress, the kind servants wore. They made me change right there, stripping away my princess clothes while everyone watched.
I'd never felt so small. So humiliated. So broken.
"Ella." Father finally looked at me, and I saw tears in his eyes. But he didn't stop them. Didn't save me. "You are no longer my daughter. You are no longer one of us. Leave this kingdom and never return."
"Father, please—" My voice cracked. "I'm still me. I'm still—"
"You are nothing," he said, and the words killed something inside me.
The guards shoved me toward the barrier. I stumbled, caught myself, looked back one last time at the only home I'd ever known.
Theron stood beside my father now, his hand resting on his sword, looking every inch the hero. Our eyes met across the crowd.
He smiled.
And I knew, with horrible certainty, that this was only the beginning. He wouldn't stop until he was sure I was dead.
The guards pushed me through the barrier. Magic rippled across my skin like ice water, and suddenly I was on the other side. Outside. Exiled.
The barrier sealed behind me with a sound like a door slamming.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the crowd through the shimmering wall. My father had already turned away. The crowd was dispersing. To them, I was already gone.
Already dead.
I turned toward the forest ahead—the Border Forest, dark and endless and full of things that killed travelers. I had no food. No weapon. No idea how to survive.
But I started walking anyway, because what choice did I have?
The trees swallowed me within minutes. Behind me, I heard one last sound from the kingdom: bells ringing in celebration.
They were celebrating my exile.
I walked deeper into the forest, my bare feet bleeding on the rough ground, my body screaming with pain from the curse. I didn't know where I was going. Didn't matter. I'd be dead soon anyway.
That's when I heard it.
A voice. Soft and familiar. The same voice that had spoken from the Shadowthorn Tree.
"Not dead yet, little princess," it whispered from the shadows between the trees. "Not dead yet. But soon. Very soon."
Red eyes appeared in the darkness ahead. Then more. And more.
Wolves.
And I was completely, utterly alone.