Shewolf Cinderella

The heavy oak doors clicked shut just as the last ray of sunlight vanished. Outside, the kingdom toasted to Princess Cinderella’s dazzling beauty. Inside, she collapsed onto her velvet settee, gasping as the curse took hold. ​A brutal ache ground through her jaw as bone shifted. Coarse, charcoal fur erupted across her ivory cheekbones, and her delicate features lengthened into a sharp, leather-nosed snout. Her brilliant blue eyes flooded with the fierce amber glow of a predator. ​Cinderella dragged herself to the silver mirror. Reflected back was a cruel contrast: the gold-embroidered silk of a royal princess topped by the fearsome, fanged head of a timber wolf. The witch Maelis had planned her revenge with precision—worshipped by daylight, a beast by night. ​A low growl escaped her muzzle, fogging the glass. ​"Your Highness?" Sir Kenneth called from the corridor, knocking softly. "The King requests your presence at the midnight feast." ​Cinderella froze, her amber eyes wide in the dark. She shrank into the shadows, condemned to another agonizing night locked away from the world.