WARRIOR CINDERELLA: A DARK FANTASY RETELLING

WARRIOR CINDERELLA: A DARK FANTASY RETELLING

 SUMMARY

Ella is no ordinary Cinderella. Forced into servitude by her cruel stepmother, Lady Tremaine, she endures years of mistreatment—but she is not helpless. Trained in secret by the former warrior Gideon, Ella hones her skills, preparing for the day she will reclaim her freedom.

When she stands up for a mistreated village girl named Nyah, she gains an unexpected ally and draws the attention of those who wish to keep her powerless. Meanwhile, whispers of a kingdom-wide tournament reach her ears—a contest that could change everything.

Determined to forge her own destiny, Ella infiltrates the tournament, where she must face deadly opponents, courtly intrigue, and the truth about her father’s mysterious death. As she battles for her future, she discovers that the prince is not just a figurehead—he is a rival warrior with his own agenda.

With the kingdom on the brink of war, Ella must decide: will she fight for vengeance, or will she rise as the warrior she was born to be?

A tale of strength, defiance, and the power of forging one’s own path, Warrior Cinderella is the story of a girl who refuses to be saved—because she will save herself.

Chapter 1: The Fire Within

The sun bled across the horizon, casting the sky in hues of gold and crimson. In the fading light, the grand estate at the edge of the village stood like a forgotten ruin, its once-proud walls now crumbling under years of neglect. Within its cold, silent halls, a young woman knelt by the hearth, her hands raw from hours of scrubbing.

Ella worked with practiced efficiency, though her mind was far from the task. Soot darkened her fingers, and wisps of ash clung to the strands of hair that had slipped from her braid. She barely noticed. She had learned long ago that exhaustion was nothing compared to the sting of powerlessness.

“Ella!”

The sharp voice snapped her back to reality. Drizella, her elder stepsister, swept into the room, her silken gown trailing across the floor. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of Ella.

“You missed a spot,” Drizella sneered, nudging a pile of ashes with the toe of her embroidered slipper. “Honestly, you’re more useless than I thought.”

Ella bit her tongue. Silence was safer. She dipped her brush back into the bucket of soapy water and continued scrubbing.

Drizella sighed dramatically. “I don’t know why Mother keeps you around. You could have been married off to some farmer by now, but no. You just linger like a ghost in this house.” She tilted her head. “Do you ever wonder what it’s like to be free?”

Ella’s grip on the brush tightened. Every night, she was free. And soon, she would be more than that.

Drizella, bored with her taunts, turned on her heel and sauntered out of the kitchen. The moment she was gone, Ella released the breath she had been holding. The fire crackled softly beside her, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning within.

Tonight, like every night, she would escape. Not to run away, but to prepare.

Hours later, when the household had finally fallen silent, Ella pushed open the kitchen’s back door. The night air was cool against her skin, and the scent of damp earth filled her lungs. She moved quickly, slipping through the garden and into the dense forest beyond the estate’s walls.

The woods welcomed her like an old friend. Moonlight filtered through the trees, casting silver shadows on the mossy ground. Ella’s heart pounded—not with fear, but with exhilaration.

At the heart of the forest, beneath the ancient oak where she had spent countless nights, a lone figure waited.

Gideon.

The former warrior stood with arms crossed, his sharp gaze assessing her as she approached. He was older now, his beard threaded with silver, but his presence was as formidable as ever. At his feet lay two wooden training swords.

“You’re late,” Gideon said gruffly.

Ella smirked, already reaching for a sword. “Then let’s train harder.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face before he tossed her the weapon. She caught it easily, feeling the familiar weight settle in her grip.

“You have the heart of a warrior,” he had told her once. “But heart alone is not enough. Strength is earned.”

She had taken those words to heart. Each night, she pushed herself past exhaustion, through bruises and aching muscles, through moments of doubt. Because one day, she would no longer be Lady Tremaine’s servant. She would be something more.

Their swords met with a sharp crack, echoing through the trees. The night air filled with the rhythm of battle, and in that moment, Ella was not a scullery maid.

She was a fighter. A survivor.

A warrior.