It is always awkward when one is caught with one’s hand in the proverbial cookie jar. And Ella, her face and neck and chest coated with red, was elbow-deep in a cookie jar of an entirely different kind. The King was very thoroughly dead (most of his vital organs having disappeared down Ella’s throat), and Lucinda was standing in the doorway with an expression of shock on her face. In that moment, the fog of hunger lifted from Ella’s thoughts. Instead, she found herself deeply, deeply ashamed.

It was a crypt. Elaborate stone coffins with carved lids lined the chamber. Those silent tombs depicted men and women in repose, holding lilies, swords, cups, books, and bones. Some wore crowns; others did not. Some were cracked and near blackened with age, while others looked well-kept indeed. Turning around, Ella started back. She had been leaning against the newest of the bunch—the stone was still bright, the woman carved into its lid fresh and unbroken. This was not the reason she started back.

No, that was because of the ghost.

The castle on the hill shone with light.

Oh, it still brooded, dear reader. But it did so with flare now—glimmering torches lined the outer walls, and vibrant fires crowned the many towers of the King’s menacing palace. As Ella’s pumpkin coach pulled up to the front entrance where the drawbridge still lay down, she couldn’t help but stare up at the castle with a kind of cold fear. That same premonition that had so rattled her when her step-sister had left earlier in the evening shuddered through her bones again.

Among the many strange creatures that inhabited the Kingdom, anyone who wielded magic was looked upon with great suspicion. You may find this strange, but think of it this way: if you know your neighbor is a vampire, then you know roughly what to expect. Garlic on the windowsills and doors will keep them at bay if they are feeling truly ravenous. Even werefolk can be kept out with a well-placed silver doorknob. But a neighbor with magic? Why, there’s ten-thousand ways they could kill you and not even realize it. Spells of flame, spells of snow, spells to unwind health and bestow old age. A sorcerer has so many ways to make your life hell, and there’s not one good folk remedy to stop it all.

What happened was that Ella had to go grocery shopping.

While it is true that Ella’s step-family subsisted off the blood of mortals, there is nothing to say that such blood should not have a little seasoning to it (except garlic, of course). Being that they did not have much money, Ella used what little they did have to frequent a local grocer who was willing to barter with her.

Once upon a time, there was a rich man who loved his wife very much. Together, they had but one daughter, a beautiful, delicate child named Ella. When Ella was eight years old, her mother fell terribly ill. As her end drew near, Ella’s mother called for her only child to come near her bed. And when Ella approached, her ailing mother rose up and tried to tear the girl’s throat out.

Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Did you think you knew where this story was going? I suppose I rather misled you. Because while this is a Cinderella story, it is not that Cinderella story.