Chapter 1

I'm going to run away from my destiny, I thought as I scooped up the last of the ashes. Their acrid scent burned my nose and throat yet I felt strangely elated. And I'm going to do it tonight. No other fairy tale heroine in the Collective Unconscious Forest had ever done this before. At least not that I had heard.

Nerves twitched through me. Would such a scheme work? I would be going against the story mapped out for me. I secretly knew my fate, just as most of the denizens of the Collective Unconscious Forest knew theirs. I was slated to attend a ball, given by a prince I'd eventually marry. There would be a fairy godmother. The prospect of meeting some bland prince at a ball and spending eternity frittering away in a castle sounded even scarier than slaving away the rest of my life for my stepfamily.

"Hurry up and light that fire, girl!" Stepmother screeched as she glided into the room, a tall elegant woman with pale, tightly curled hair. Her long skirts rustled with her movements. Her angry voice echoed against the walls and high, slanting ceiling. "We've been sitting here freezing because you are so slow. If I wasn't so frugal, I'd throw you out on the street and hire a real servant."

"I-I'm sorry," I murmured, my mind focused on my plans. "I've been working as quickly as I can."

"Nonsense!" she roared. I heard giggles as my stepsisters Silvie and Audine streamed downstairs from their rooms. They loved to see me get into trouble with Stepmother. Both appraised me with their brilliant blue eyes, reminding me of hawks closing in on their prey.

"Don't be so hard on her, Mother," said Audine, the eldest, in a mocking tone. "Ella's just Ella. She's never going to change."

"And look at how pathetic she is," said Silvie, plucking at my hair. "All covered with ashes and soot. That's why we call her Cinderella. And her hair! Were you outside in a harsh wind, Cinders?"

My hands balled into fists at my side. I longed to blacken one of her eyes as I'd done before, only to earn a beating from Stepmother. I didn't want to make her angrier than she already was. Tonight was my escape night and nothing was going to interfere with that.

"Ella, just get the fire started," said Stepmother, in an exaggerated, exasperated tone. "There's bread in the kitchen for your supper but that's all you get tonight for your laziness. When you're finished, go to your room."

I struggled not to shout for joy as I tended that task. . . the last one I would do for my stepfamily. They weren't my true family, something that was physically apparent to anyone that knew us. They were all tall with blonde hair and blue eyes while I was small and dark. My stepsisters said that my skin and hair were the color of cinders and that's another reason why they called me Cinderella. I had always envied their straight silky hair and alabaster complexions and used to share this with my father, shortly before he died.

"They are jealous of you," he would say, taking me into his arms. "They wish that they had such thick wavy hair and skin that tanned so easily."

I blinked back tears and swallowed the painful lump that lodged in my throat. Father. . . if only. . .

Well, I couldn't change that part of my story, only the rest.

I ate the dry, hard bread slowly as I climbed the winding stairs to my attic bedroom. It was tiny and sparse but I liked it since it had a skylight on the ceiling. I had my cot positioned directly under it so I could literally sleep under the stars. And when it rained—well, I loved that too, falling asleep watching waterfalls of raindrops cascading down the slanting glass. But, best of all, this room was as far away from my stepfamily as I could get without leaving the house.

I grabbed my light-spinning spindle that was lying on my nightstand. I had created it myself, from a handful of water that I had turned into glass. It was as long as my hand and shaped like a regular spindle, slender and tapered on each end. The moonlight seeping in from the skylight made it dance with iridescent sparkles.

When I was very young, my mother, who had some fairy blood, had taught me how to shape solid objects from water and to spin with moonlight. For a fortnight I had been working on a magical moon-cloak that would render me invisible and intangible. It was this that would enable me to escape my family and my predictable destiny. I knew I was going against my creators' wishes but I didn't care. I had a life and was determined to live it without becoming ensconced in a drab castle.

I pulled the cloak from under the mattress where I kept it safely tucked. It was finer than a cobweb and flushed the room with a soft, silvery-white light. I grinned. My handiwork was perfect so far. All I needed now was a few more rows and I'd be finished.

I held up the light-spinner and twirled it. The glimmers of moonlight stretched into silken filaments. I lightly touched them; their texture was soft and damp. Pride warmed me. Spinning moonlight into threads was a task that many people could never accomplish, or so I'd read. I continued spinning the spindle until I had gathered a thick glowing ream of filaments. I then reached under my bed and pulled out a small glass frame loom, which I had also shaped from water.

I removed the moon-threads from the spindle and wove them across the loom's warp, which I carefully manipulated with my fingers. I gently passed the weft through and beat the emerging fabric into place. Back and forth, over and under until the weft threads formed glistening rows.

I hummed softly under my breath and hoped my stepfamily couldn't hear me. I could still hear them moving around downstairs. Not only did I not want them finding out what I was up to but my stepsisters often criticized my voice, calling it flat and dissonant. But I wasn't like them who had all the time for singing lessons.

When my cloak was finally finished, I gently knotted the last thread and released it from the loom. It felt soft against my work-callused hands and was nearly too bright to look at. I draped the cloak over my shoulders.

I felt instantly lighter and looked down at my hands, which had taken on a filmy, diaphanous appearance. The spell had worked! I now held the intangibility of moonlight.

I floated down the steps as if I were a ghost and held my breath when I heard my stepsisters giggling behind Audine's closed door. Certainly they were thinking up new ways to humiliate me tomorrow. I resisted the temptation to pass through their door and spy on them and instead slid into the kitchen. It wouldn't be wise to leave on my adventure without food. I filled my pockets with some of the bread, meat and cheese I had brought back from my errands earlier that day. Since I was still hungry, I ate some before I left.

A shiver tingled my skin as I slid through the front door. If anyone sees me, I'd be no more than a wisp of moonlight. I wanted to shout with joy for my long awaited freedom: not only freedom from my oppressive stepfamily but my story line.

But where was I to go now? I stopped and looked around. Just trees and moon-shadow and the sound of a river babbling nearby. I headed in its direction. I had been so busy planning my escape that I hadn't even thought about what I was to do afterward.

And I was tired. I settled on the river's mossy bank and closed my eyes. I'd worry about that tomorrow. Perhaps I'd just follow the river to the edge of the forest and see where it ended, what lay beyond. I had learned from Father that an invisible veil separated our world from that of our Creators. Was it possible to reach this veil?

I was awakened by a gasp. I rolled over, momentarily startled that I wasn't lying upon my cot beneath the skylight. The bumpy, pine-strewn forest floor wasn't any less comfortable but I did feel a bit stiff.

A woman clad in a dark purple robe was standing over me. She had long pale hair that was tinged a rich gold in the early morning light. "That's an unusual cloak," she said, pointing to my creation that had slipped off sometime during the night and lay crumpled at my side, shimmering like a moon-puddle.