Hi fairies!
As you know, I teased the idea of writing my own novel last month, a retelling of Embers to Inferno, this time, without the established world-building from Winx Club. Of course, it is still inspired, and you'll see many similarities to the magical world of Winx Club!
I wrote this first chapter to see what the writing process would be like for me. I've only ever had experience with art and writing scripts for ETI; I've never even written a fanfiction, haha. So this is truly my first writing project! I want to learn new skills, and there is no better way to do that than by trying. That's why I decided to start this project by writing a full chapter, to see if I even enjoyed writing and if there is something to work with, given that I've never written before.
I hope you like this first chapter. It's very different from how ETI started; we needed a bit more context and world-building without the aid of Winx, haha.
So, let me know what you think. I'll try to share more about this project whenever I can! 🥰
I'm curious to hear if you can guess what this chapter was inspired by!
It was freezing.
The piercing cold seeped deep into bone and flesh, numbing limbs and tightening airways. The wind bled through the cracks of the crumbling stone walls—if you could still call them that. Nothing was keeping the howling winds and snowstorms from entering the dim cells.
Isabella's chest felt heavy with every shallow breath she was able to gasp through her chapped lips. The biting, dry air split open every bit of exposed porcelain skin, leaving her body covered with deep, red gashes. She had not been given the mercy of a coat; rather, she was sitting on the hard stone floor in nothing but a short jeans skirt and a cropped top. Her long, ashen-blonde hair was the only thing that served as a barrier from the cold wind as it draped lifelessly over her body, pooling on the frigid stones beneath her.
Isabella once prided herself on her ability to withstand the harshest of temperatures. She always found comfort in the piercing wind and icy rain of winter—after all, it was the source of her power. Her magical powers enabled her to command the cold, creating a blizzard on a hot, sweltering day as easily as applying her favourite lip gloss.
Now, though, the powers she usually took such pride in were useless; the magic negation cuffs secured tightly around her wrists made sure of that. Whenever she tried to call upon her element, it only chilled the already freezing temperature around her further.
The increasing strain of exhaustion and hunger was taking its toll on her body. It had been two weeks—or at least, that's what she speculated—since the soldiers chained her in this cell, leaving her to rot. The melting snow and ice scattered across the cell floor was enough to keep her from dehydration, but she was desperate for something to eat—even the rats scuttling past her feet started to look appetising.
A faint cough from a nearby cell shifted her attention from the rats. It took every bit of strength to open her cracked lips and find her voice, "A-Amara? Sabrina?"
It took a moment before she got a reply, the voice equally as rough from disuse: "H-hey, sis. How are you holding up?" It was Sabrina, Isabella's sister, locked in the cell next to hers.
Isabella managed a strained chuckle. "Been better..." She hesitated. "H-how's Amara?" She barely dared to ask, afraid of the day she'd inevitably hear about her youngest sister's passing. She had always been the frailest out of the three of them.
"T-trying to sleep." Came a strained whisper, "W-which is impossible with you two y-yammering all the time," Amara's words trembled with cold, but her usual snarky tone somehow still managed to persist. Isabella was never more relieved to hear her sister's irreverent voice. She and her sisters didn't always get along, but their bond ran deep—sisterhood came above all for witches.
"Any plans yet on how we're getting out of here?" Sabrina often failed to notice how dire a situation was. It kept her optimistic, but it was foolish to believe they'd ever get out of here. No one ever escaped The Pit. But Isabella didn't have the heart to tell her that. She wasn't kind by any means or had much of a heart to speak of, but she couldn't help feeling some warmth towards the only two people she ever cared about.
"I-I'm afraid not, Brina. Even if we were to break free of these shackles, we'd have no way to get out of Ardentia." Amara wasn't one for sugarcoating; she was pragmatic. Always cautious, always calculating the risks. Maybe if Isabella had listened to her, they wouldn't be locked up here, but it was too late to dwell on that thought.
Isabella looked at her bloody, chafed wrists, secured with metal cuffs to thick chains fixed to the wall. She didn't feel the pain anymore; the cold had sufficiently numbed her nerves by now. During their first days of imprisonment, she relentlessly tried to break free, pulling and screaming until both her wrists and throat were raw. Once the starvation and frostbite had settled in, she could barely muster the strength to even care anymore. Tentatively, she tested the chains again, pulling with what little energy she had left. She had hoped that the rusted metal wouldn't hold for much longer, but there was no change after the weeks they had been here. The cuffs were ancient and rusted down after years of being exposed to the elements with no one maintaining them. There was no need to; not many criminals were sent to The Pit anymore. Isabella and her sisters were the first ones in 10 years. Few were deemed evil enough to deserve the punishment these days, especially after the Great War.
The Pit—as the witches called it—was a makeshift prison for high-profile criminals, located on planet Ardentia. Once a great and prosperous world, now a wasteland with only a single building left standing, the one in which Isabella and her sisters currently found themselves imprisoned. Sentenced to waste away within its walls until starvation—or the cold, whichever one came first—took their lives.
Having used up all her strength pulling on the chains, Isabella slumped forward, out of breath and sore from the exertion. "It's useless…" she whispered. After two weeks of imprisonment, she finally allowed a single tear to fall, despair settling heavily in her chest.
Silence echoed around the empty corridors of the fortress. There was no one else but them; any other inmates had long since died, their skeletons still hanging from the shackles they were bound to years ago.
Once you entered The Pit, you never left, even in death.
"My, my, I didn't think you would give up so soon." Isabella shot upright, the quick movement making her head swim. Was that a man's voice? She could have sworn it had been years since the last person was sent here. There was no one else except the soldiers on the aircraft that brought them here, right?
"Who-who's there?!" Sabrina called out.
The man's deep chuckle reverberated through the halls, setting the hairs on Isabella's arm on edge. "My apologies for startling you. I'm but a lowly prisoner in the same predicament as you three young ladies." His voice was like velvet, smooth and rich. He sounded aristocratic, almost—powerful, commanding, and terrifyingly dangerous.
"W-why didn't you say anything before?" Amara asked carefully.
The rich rumble echoed back, "I like to wait and observe lest I indulge in needless conversation. But it seems like the time has come, thanks to you, Isabella." He all but purred her name. She clenched her jaw, willing her frail body to stop shaking, this time not from the icy chill hanging in the air.
"What do you mean?" She held her chin high and kept her voice steady; her pride was the last thing she had to hold on to. She would not let this man sense her fear.
"From what I understand, you possess the unique magical ability of frost. Am I correct?" He asked.
Isabella hesitated, unsure where this thought process was headed. "Yes. And what of it?"
She could practically hear the smile in his voice. "Well, darling, that will be our ticket out of here."
She didn't dare to hope; every bit of it had been smothered together with her strength in this hellhole. "Fool, even if we were to get out of these shackles, there's no way of surviving or getting off this planet."
"You can leave that to me. But I need you, Isabella—only you can remove these shackles." The way her name rolled off his tongue so sweetly had her heart thumping in her chest. Her instincts were screaming at her, warning her of the danger lying ahead, but the soothing cadence of his voice, the reassurance he offered, was getting increasingly difficult to ignore. Especially when she'd been robbed of every bit of comfort these past weeks.
She licked her dry lips, pausing for a moment before hesitantly asking, "What do you need me to do?"
"Isa!" Amara hissed. Her sister sensed the danger this stranger presented, too, it seemed. But she'd gladly trade one danger for another if it meant getting out of here. She'd rather take her chances with the mysterious prisoner than suffer the pathetic death that is starvation.
The stranger chuckled, "It is smart to distrust me, but I promise I want nothing more than to be free of this prison myself. Let us aid one another to be rid of this wretched place, shall we?" His words were like honey, seductively sweet and tempting. Every word was spoken with intention and a confidence even the beautiful Isabella didn't possess. She felt herself get drawn into him, finding herself leaning forward slightly to better hear his voice.
"Alright. I'm in! Come on, Amara, if there's a chance Isa can break the cuffs and he can get us out of here, we should take it!" Sabrina sounded positively elated, her fighting spirit rearing its head the moment a sliver of hope presented itself.
There was a pause, then a sigh of resignation, "Fine. What did you have in mind, mister…?"
"You can call me Valen." Valen. So that was the mysterious stranger's name. It suited him, Isabella thought. Her curiosity increased, thoughts of hunger and cold banished to the back of her mind in favor of the intriguing man.
"You have most likely noted that the shackles that bind us are aged and brittle. While they remain intact, they've weathered down over the years due to the harsh environmental conditions. Mainly, the freezing temperatures surrounding us." Realization dawned on Isabella—of course! Metal could withstand intense heat but became increasingly brittle when exposed to the cold. "All Isabella has to do is cool down the metal to its most vulnerable state and break it against the stone wall. I'm certain with the room's already chill temperature, not much magic will be needed."
Isabella nodded resolutely to herself, her determination to escape returning with a vengeance. She was weak, and her body was deteriorating fast, but she could do this. She glanced around her cell; her eyes fell on the fresh pile of snow by her feet. She scooped some into her cupped hands and spread it over the cuffs.
Taking a deep breath, she focused on calling her magic—while it didn't respond with the ease she was used to, she still felt it. It was as if something was blocking the stream of her magic from flowing through her veins, but the pool was still there. "Brace yourselves; it will be getting a lot colder in here."
The air in the room dropped significantly—it hurt; her frostbitten skin screamed as the already freezing temperature plunged, but she didn't stop. She heard her sisters' teeth chatter, felt the cuffs burn her skin, but she had to keep going. Valen's voice echoed in her mind—he needed her.
The snow on the shackles turned into ice, cooling the metal. Her wrists were blistered, and the skin turned a sickly grey from the ice burns. Only when her skin started to slough off did she stop.
Isabella braced herself, gritting her teeth—this was going to hurt—and smashed the cuff as hard as she could against the stone wall. It was agonizing. The metal shattered into her blistered, oozing flesh. She cried out in pain, hot tears stinging her frozen cheeks.
"Isa?! A-are you okay?" The pain drowned out the worried cries of her sisters. She didn't have time to answer anyway, there was still one cuff left. Isabella braced herself once more and smashed the second cuff into splinters against the wall. Another cry tore from her throat, her vision blurring. She slumped down to the floor, unable to hold herself up any longer. Despite her distorted vision, she could still make out the pool of blood gathering around her. Shit. One of the fragments hit an artery in her wrist.
She needed to move quickly, or her efforts would have all been in vain. She'd bleed out before ever getting to her sisters. Thankfully, the comforting feeling of her magic steadily flowing back through her body kept her grounded and alert. Thinking quickly, she tore a piece of her already short top with a shard of metal and wrapped it around her torn wrist, hoping it would stop the bleeding long enough.
She took a moment to breathe. Her chest heaved from the exertion, and her head spun from the pain, but she did it. She was free. Relief washed over her; they could finally get out of here.
The icy temperature was already more manageable now that her magic wasn't being restricted. Once her body stopped shaking, she pushed herself up. Her legs were still unsteady—her high-heeled boots not helping with her balance—but she grabbed onto the wall and pushed forward. She needed to get the others out. Fortunately, these makeshift prison cells didn't have doors locking them inside, the shackles and lack of food were enough to immobilize most prisoners.
She stumbled into the nearest cell, finding Sabrina. "Isa, I knew you could do it!" Sabrina's smiling expression was dulled by the sharp edges of bones poking through her skin. Her normally wild, curly, deep violet hair lay lifeless, having lost all its shine. The prolonged starvation had taken its toll.
She had been no better dressed for the weather than Isabella, her body covered with gashes and blotches where the skin was starting to turn gray—frostbite.
Isabella managed a cocky grin, determined to keep up her strong exterior. "Time to end this vacation." She moved forward as quickly as her unsteady legs allowed her and kneeled next to Sabrina. Now that her powers were back, breaking the cuffs was significantly faster and not nearly as painful. Her control had always been impeccable, and now that she could access her magic freely again, she could easily freeze the cuffs off without compromising Sabrina's skin.
The two sisters quickly moved to help Amara, finding her slumped against the wall. Her long chestnut hair had knotted itself together, and her usual olive skin had taken on a ghostly grey tone. Similar to her sisters, every inch of her body was covered in bruising, be it from the cold wind slashing at her skin or from the tight cuffs chafing her wrists.
Worse was the gauntness of her normally full features—her cheeks sunken and her eyes hollow. Her gaze was unfocused and glassy as she looked at them. She looked skeletal. Amara wouldn't have survived for much longer.
"Isa, Brina! Thank the stars it worked." Isabella made quick work of Amara's cuffs; her own energy replenishing itself now that she had access to her powers again. It took Amara a couple of tries to stand up, her knees threatening to buckle as soon as she was left to stand on her own. Isabella and Sabrina supported her as best they could, carrying Amara between them as they made their way to the last cell.
"Isa," Amara said hesitantly, "do you really think it's a good idea to free him?" Isabella knew what she was implying—betrayal and manipulation were Amara's forte, after all. They got what they needed from the stranger; now it was time to run and leave him behind to die. Normally she'd agree; an additional burden always caused trouble, and Isabella was only interested in her and her sisters' survival. But there was something about Valen—something that kept her from running. Was it mere curiosity? Intrigue? She couldn't say. All she knew was that she wanted to see him.
"We have no way of getting out of Ardentia, Mara. We can barely even walk. He's our only hope of getting out of here alive." She answered, keeping her expression unreadable. It was true; they wouldn't get far on their own—they'd be stuck on this freezing wasteland for eternity. Chained or not, the chances that they'd survive on this bleak planet were slim to none. Aircraft weren't allowed within the vicinity of Ardentia, and teleportation to another planet required immense power—not even the three of them combined possessed that amount of magical energy. Their only hope was that Valen knew something they didn't. Perhaps he was able to contact someone to get them out, or he knew of a teleportation artifact left behind somewhere in Ardentia.
"Fine. But I don't trust him, Isa. How is he here? How is he even still alive?" Amara looked at her, her brow furrowed. "Just… be careful around him, please," Amara whispered. Isabella nodded in reassurance but remained silent.
They stopped before his cell; it was vastly different from the ones they had been imprisoned in. Their cells had been relatively small, with only enough room to allow for a chained prisoner and a single bucket for their waste—not that it was ever emptied, but at least it kept the floors clean. This room, however, was big.
Standing at the entrance, it was difficult to make out anything on the inside. There were no windows, and the walls were still sturdy enough for minimal light to filter through.
Isabella took a hesitant step inside, leaving Sabrina to look after Amara. "Valen?" she called out.
"Aah, Isabella. You found your way to me." His voice, even smoother up close, sent tingles up Isabella's spine. The minimal light filtering through the cracks of the walls illuminated his form just enough for Isabella to see. He had not been given the same treatment as her sisters and her; he was completely immobilized. Valen was on his knees, his arms held up by taut chains running from the ceiling. His feet were directly shackled to the ground itself, no chain to allow for movement of any kind. Lastly, there was his neck; an additional anti-magic cuff ran around it like a collar. Where Isabella's magic had been bound by two cuffs, Valen's was bound by five.
Her gaze reached his face; two piercing dark blue eyes framed by elegant, long lashes bore into her. The shade of blue reminded Isabella of the deep oceans or the dark winter sky. She'd almost deem his features feminine were it not for the sharp jawline and high cheekbones. His skin was pale, almost unhealthily so, but it suited the long gossamer strands of dark gold that framed his face. Just like his voice, his looks exuded aristocracy and confidence. He had not one hair out of place or even a stray piece of facial hair. He looked perfect. Too perfect for a man imprisoned. He didn't look emaciated; his body was hidden under his clothes, but his broad shoulders and thick arms were still pronounced. The cold didn't seem to bother him in the slightest either—he looked as if this prison were merely a nuisance, rather than hell itself.
The only dishevelled part about him was his clothes, the only thing that indicated he had been here for some time. Now that Isabella looked closer, she noted something odd, the long—clearly expensive—burgundy leather coat catching her eye in particular. These clothes were not modern. They reminded her of the kind of attire only royalty wore these days.
She shook her head. Now was not the time to think about that; they needed to get out of here. She kneeled beside him and silently set to work on his magical restraints. She could feel his eyes on her as she worked, it made her nervous being this close to him and under his scrutiny. It was a foreign feeling for Isabella; she was a self-assured woman in both her looks and power, but Valen's mere presence made that self-confidence fizzle into a timidness she was unfamiliar with. She made the mistake of glancing up briefly while she was working on removing his collar, and was met with the most dazzling, charming smile.
"Thank you, Isabella, for your aid," he softly spoke.
Isabella's face flushed, immediately averting her eyes from his hypnotizing gaze. She did not dare to answer, afraid her voice would betray her nervousness. She swallowed thickly and gave him a curt nod.
The last cuff shattered; Valen rubbed his wrists as he rose to his full height, towering over Isabella. It made the witch feel even smaller in his presence. He stretched his muscles and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply, seemingly savoring his newfound freedom. Isabella's unease grew as his magical aura came back alive—it was absolutely suffocating. With every passing moment, she felt his immense magical aura increase, clashing with hers, dominating and unrelenting. Establishing itself as superior. It felt as if his mere presence was sucking all the air out of the room. Isabella broke out in a cold sweat, her body shivering uncontrollably, her breath shallow and quick.
It seemed he had sensed her fear and gave her a soft smile. "Apologies, my dear; my magical presence can be quite…jarring." He chuckled before resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Let's get back to your sisters, shall we?"
Once again, Isabella could only nod her head in silence, jumping a little when she felt his hand move from her shoulder to the small of her back, guiding her to the exit. Despite the lingering fear, the comforting gesture made her relax slightly. His touch felt soothing and surprisingly warm.
They stepped outside the cell and met with her sisters, their eyes wide with fear as they approached. They sensed it too. This man was not normal.
Isabella stumbled, the blood loss and pain from her wrists catching up to her. Before she could hit the floor, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her back onto her feet. "I'm terribly sorry for pushing you to this extent, Isabella. Please, allow me to help you and your sisters now." He lifted his hand; all three of them flinched in panic before the soothing feeling of healing magic washed over them. Their gashes closed up, skin marked by frostbite returned to its usual color, and the wounds on Isabella's wrist sealed themselves.
"Wow," was all Sabrina could manage while staring wide-eyed at her newly smooth skin. Despite this act of kindness, apprehension lingered in the air. Healing spells that seemed to reverse time were also decidedly not normal. Who exactly had they freed from this prison?
"H-how long were you locked up?" Amara asked the question on everyone's mind. He looked as if he'd been here for a day or two, at most. But a gnawing feeling inside Isabella told her she couldn't be more wrong.
"I suppose it's been over 20 years by now." He mused, "It was quite dull being locked up for so long, but it gave me plenty of time to think." His smile hid an unsettling sharpness.
Isabella stiffened. 20 years?! How was that possible? He barely looked a day over 30, let alone like he's been stuck here for multiple decades. Sabrina and Amara mirrored her expression of shock and unease.
"Oh, I see…" Amara mumbled quietly in response, not daring to question him further.
A moment of silence passed, the witches glancing at each other. Unsure of how to proceed.
"So," Isabella finally found her voice again, "how are we getting out of here?" She was proud of how steady the words sounded.
"Simple," Valen smirked. "I'll create a dimensional doorway."
"Oh, so you have an artifact with you? Didn't the soldiers take all your belongings?" Sabrina asked confusedly.
He chuckled, "My imprisonment may have weakened me, but I have no need for something so juvenile." He lazily stretched out his hand, swirling ribbons of magic the color of ink spilling onto the floor. The three sisters stood in stunned silence as a gateway to another planet formed in front of their eyes.
Isabella felt her heart thump in her chest. While she was a cautious witch and did possess a healthy sense of fear at the displays of powerful magic, she had always been attracted to power. That is how they ended up imprisoned in the first place—Isabella's insatiable need for power. And Valen embodied everything that she desired.
"Ladies first?" Valen gestured towards the portal, inviting them to step through. Isabella didn't hesitate; her previous terror at last overtaken by her desires. She moved forward with confidence, her sisters hesitant but following suit. They always followed wherever she led them, even if it was to the pits of hell itself.
Had Isabella turned around, she'd have seen the self-satisfied smirk playing on Valen's lips as he followed behind them.