The grand ballroom shimmered under the light of a thousand golden chandeliers, their flames dancing against polished marble floors. The air was heavy with music, laughter, and the scent of roasted meats, exotic flowers, and the sweet perfume of noblewomen. Servants scurried through the hall, balancing trays of goblets brimming with wine, their hands trembling with the pressure of the evening. It was the night the kingdom had waited for Prince Edward II's coming-of-age ball.
Edward sat on a gilded throne at the head of the room, his posture relaxed, his eyes half-lidded with boredom. Around him, the court whispered and curtsied, presenting princesses from neighboring kingdoms, hoping to catch the eye of the future king. But Edward's gaze wandered elsewhere toward the open doors that led to the gardens beyond. His mind was not on marriage, nor diplomacy, nor the obligations of royalty. All he desired was indulgence, pleasure, and the thrill of power.
"Look at this one," Edward muttered to his closest friend, a mischievous smirk curling his lips. "Does she think her embroidery can impress a prince? Pathetic."
His friend laughed nervously, unsure if it was a joke or cruelty. Around him, the nobles laughed too, and the women blushed in a mix of fear and embarrassment. Edward's charm was dangerous, sharpened by arrogance and indulgence.
From the corner of the ballroom, a small figure shuffled forward an old, filthy woman, hunched over, her tattered robe dragging behind her. She smelled of damp earth and decay, and her blackened teeth glinted when she smiled. The courtiers laughed.
"Who invited this creature?" one noblewoman hissed, her jeweled fan fluttering in mockery.
Edward chuckled aloud. "I wonder if she knows which prince presides here tonight," he said, his voice carrying across the room. "Perhaps she came to plead for mercy?"
The old woman did not respond. She only stood, small and unassuming, as the music swelled around her. For a moment, the laughter of the ballroom seemed louder, crueler, as if mocking her very existence.
Then she spoke. Her voice was soft, hoarse, almost like the wind rustling through dead leaves:
"Do you remember me, Prince Edward?"
Edward frowned. His amusement faltered. "I who are you? How dare you speak to me?"
A laugh escaped her lips, low and guttural at first, then building into a sound so chilling it silenced the musicians mid-note. The courtiers turned, whispering, their laughter dying in their throats. Candles flickered violently, and a cold draft swept through the hall, snuffing out several flames.
Edward rose, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. "Step back, woman! How dare you "
The woman's form shivered, and then, impossibly, her small hunched figure straightened. Shadows coiled around her like smoke, her back rising taller than any man in the room. Her face sharpened, her eyes glimmered with a cruel intelligence, and her voice deepened, resonating through the hall:
"I am no more woman," she said. "I am the reckoning of the blood you despise. I am the curse of your house."
Edward laughed, masking his unease. "A curse? You? You dare threaten me in my palace? Guards!"
No guards moved. No one dared approach. The air seemed heavier now, as if the very room had been drawn into some invisible net. The musicians could not play; their instruments froze in their hands.
Then the magic began.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the floor beneath the nobles and servants shimmered. The warm glow of candlelight turned pale and bluish. The laughter faltered, the conversations stuttered, and suddenly, mid-step, the guests froze in place. A servant holding a tray tilted slightly, the wine suspended in midair. A noblewoman's hand hovered near her throat, her jeweled fan frozen halfway to her face.
Edward's eyes widened. He leapt from his throne, heart pounding, but the cold wind pushed against him like a living thing. His parents, standing nearby, reached for him, but their movements stilled as if some invisible hand had sculpted them into statues of ice. Panic surged through him.
"What… what is this?" he shouted, his voice trembling for the first time.
The witch or whatever she truly was stepped closer, the shadows curling around her like living fingers. She crouched so that her eyes met Edward's, piercing through his arrogance.
"You live like a beast, Prince Edward," she said softly, yet each word struck like a hammer. "You kill for pleasure. You mock those weaker than you. You believe your blood grants you the right to take without consequence. Tonight, you will understand what it means to be hunted."
A sudden pain shot through his body. His bones ached, his vision blurred, and his chest burned with cold. He fell to his knees, clutching his arms as his body began to contort. Fur erupted along his skin, his fingers melded into claws, and his teeth sharpened painfully. Within moments, where once a prince had stood, there now crouched a massive wolf, black as midnight, eyes burning with his own disbelief and fury.
Edward tried to speak, but only a guttural growl escaped. His mind raced, trapped between human thought and animal instinct. The witch circled him, her voice calm, methodical, and terrible in its clarity.
"These are the rules of your curse," she said:
You will live as a wolf until you learn mercy.
Kill for pleasure, and the curse deepens; death will not release you.
The castle and all within it remain frozen until you earn redemption.
Love cannot be forced it can only be earned.
Fail, and the wolf will consume you utterly, body and soul.
Edward's ears twitched at the word redemption. His parents, his friends, his servants all frozen in time gazed at him with impossible stillness. Anguish, rage, and fear surged together, and for the first time, the prince realized that all his privilege, his power, and his arrogance meant nothing.
"You will not survive this night as you are," the witch whispered, her eyes softening slightly. "But if you can learn… if you can change… perhaps one day, the ice will melt, and you will walk among them again."
Then, as suddenly as she had come, she vanished. The cold wind died, leaving only silence. The music did not return. The candles remained frozen mid-flicker. Edward, now fully a wolf, padded forward instinctively, sniffing, snarling, trying to understand the strange, silent world around him.
He circled the frozen room, heart hammering, realizing the truth: the life he had known, the power he had wielded, the kingdom he had taken for granted it was all gone. And the price for his arrogance had begun.
Outside the tall windows, snow began to fall softly, blanketing the courtyard in white. Edward lifted his head and let out a long, mournful howl that echoed through the mountains and forests. A beast he had never known now shared his body, and the lessons of pride, cruelty, and the cost of power were only just beginning.
The prince was gone.
And the beast opened its eyes.