The Path to Redemption
Chapter 1: Façade
The rain beat down on the windshield, cold and unrelenting, as the car drove through the countryside. Its destination was known only to the driver as she drove the meandering roads that swept through town and valley. The car crested a mountain and went down the other side, slowing to make the turn into the Cemetery of the Saints, the largest Catholic burial ground in Britain. Slowly, the car crept through the cemetery until it came to the first mausoleum in a long line.
Passing by all of them, it came to a stop in front of one that was newly constructed. This one was definitely different from the rest. Instead of being plain and unadorned like the rest, this one was richly carved and exquisitively (Spell Check was being gay on me. Sorry for the misspell.) decorated. Centaurs lined the entrance, swords drawn in a traditional salute to a monarch. Beyond that, inky blackness swallowed all traces of light that entered there. All around the outside, leaping fauns, dryads and other mythical creatures jumped and bounded in merriment, wine flowing from their feet as they touched the ground. In the center of the mausoleum, right above the entrance, big bold letters spelled out: Pevensie. If not for the cemetery behind it, one would expect to see this piece in a museum.
Susan Pevensie stepped out of her car and quickly snapped her umbrella into existence above her head, so as not to get soaked by the pouring rain. With slow, calculated steps, she approached the mausoleum. She passed under the centaurs and, reaching her hand out, feeling along the wall until she found the switch, turned the lights for the grave on. Slowly she bundled up her umbrella and set it against the wall.
She shed her coat, revealing a long sweeping red dress with high heels to match. Her arms were bare, revealing heavily defined muscles. The only thing that was off was her face. It was hidden behind layers and layers of make-up, giving her a sickly look. Her face was deathly white, almost as if she had died and nature was taking its course. Her lips were no longer their original pink color but were smeared with red lipstick. Eyes that had seen and ruled Narnia poked out from eyelashes that were heavily laden with eyeliner. Susan was not the queen she once was. She did retain her natural beauty but she hid it under a façade of make-up and lies, the wisdom that once had graced her live in her anymore. She had lost her faith in all that was good and faithful and with it went her wisdom and judgment.
After depositing her coat and umbrella, she began walking toward the center chamber. She glanced at the walls as she walked. They were painted, depicting the Golden Age of Narnia, much as it had been in Aslan's Howe. To anyone else, the paintings would mean nothing but to her, they were a constant reminder of the hurt and pain she endured on a daily basis. She looked away, tears brimming in her eyes, and continued down the corridor. How could a being such as Aslan, who was supposed to be love incarnate, take everything that she had ever cared about away in the blink of an eye? Constantly she asked herself that question and could not find an answer.
She walked on for a few moments more before entering the main chamber. She stood in the entrance for a moment, looking in but hesitating in entering. Before her stood three tall statues, all dressed in robes and crowned, two kings and a queen. The first one was tall, towering above the rest. On his brow rested the crown of the High King. Below his statue was a name inscribed in the stone, reading: High King Peter Pevensie the Magnificent.
The statue to his left was one of a beautiful woman, just into her twenties. She was wearing a full length gown with her feet bare, brushing against the luscious grass. In her hands was a harp, her fingers splayed against the string, forever staying that way. Her face was beaming, if you could call a stone face that. She was smiling, her eyes staring unseeing forever out into the entrance of the mausoleum. Under her were the words: Queen Lucy the Valiant.
The final statue was of a man in his late twenties. He had a kingly face but the most diverting thing about him was his eyes. His eyes told tales of sorrow and betrayal, all wound together by a forgiving force that had forgiven him for all the wrong he had done. On his side was a sword, a great two handed broadsword. The sword was delicately detailed and on the pommel was carved into the hilt a roaring lion's head. At his feet was a wolf, lying contentedly, looking up at him with a look of utter trust and devotion. Beneath him were the words: King Edmund the Just and his Faithful Companion even unto his Death, Nichodemus, Defender of the King.
Susan stood for a moment longer before entering. She walked up to her brother's grave first. Reverently she laid a bouquet of roses onto the feet of his statue. She placed his and slowly backed up, planting the other two before returning to her brother's grace.
"Well Peter," She said to his statue. "I'm starting to get ahead in life. My investments are starting to pay off and I'm starting to get rich, just like we all wanted to…" Her voice broke as she tried to control her emotions.
"I wish all of you were here," she continued, her voice a whisper laced with sorrow and pain. "We could all live at the estate I have just bought. You would love it. All of you would. It reminds me of that silly game we used to play as kids. What imaginations we had then!" She glanced down at her watch, finally mastering herself. "I've got to go. People usually get mad when you are late for business meetings."
She turned on her heel, walking back toward the entrance. As she grabbed her coat and put her umbrella out, she flicked the switch, plunging to grave into icy blackness.
Susan climbed into her car, running her hand over her head, realizing she dropped an ear-ring inside the mausoleum. Sighing, she climbed back out of the car and walked back into the grave. She turned the light on and hastily walked down the hallway and into the grave room. Her ear-ring was lying on the floor in front of Edmund's statue.
"Must have fallen off when I put his flowers on his grave," She muttered absently to herself. She looked up again and was surprised to find the wolf missing from by her brother's feet. Upon closer inspection, the stone around his feet was cracked and chipped, as if the wolf had just pulled off of the wall. She knew that was illogical and could never happen so she immediately dismissed it.
Something rustled behind her and she turned around. As she completed the turn, nothing was to be seen. She turned around, reaching down to grab her ear-ring and get out of there. She heard the rustling again and this time could her someone or something breathing. She lifted her head as she stood and found herself staring into the eyes of a large grey wolf.
It took a moment for it to register in her mind. She stood there, gaping at the wolf before screaming at the top of her lungs. The wolf hissed and barred his teeth, backing up slowly.
"Can we please try and act civilized?" It said after a moment. "It's not like you haven't seen a talking animal before, Your Majesty."
Susan looked at the wolf in pure puzzlement before she saw the pavement rushing up to greet her. Inky blackness took her and she knew no more.