Princess Midnight Royal Ball Adventure
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Beneath soot-streaked cheeks and threadbare rags, Ella’s spirit burned brighter than the hearth she scrubbed daily. They mocked her as “Cinderella,” this girl who mended their gowns while wearing tatters, who polished their silver with cracked hands. Yet when the royal ball’s invitation arrived, hope flickered in her chest like the last ember in a dying fire. Her stepmother’s laughter rang cold—*“You? Dance in the palace?”*—but midnight’s distant chime whispered promises. No fairy godmother hovered in the shadows; magic would have to be forged from desperation. A moth-eaten curtain became fabric for trembling fingers to stitch. Crushed berries stained lips rouge, cellar soot darkened lashes. The pumpkin carriage? Mere legend. She’d walk barefoot if needed. For when clocks strike twelve, destinies pivot—and this night, a girl in a cobbled gown would trade ashes for starlight.
