Author's note: Many thanks to Petraverd, to whom this lovely plot bunny belongs.
Disclaimer: Narnia is the property of the estate of C.S. Lewis. No copyright infringement is intended.
Prologue: Origins
In an ancient world where oppression was life and cruelty knew no bounds, a simple craftsman toiled over a bench in his smoke filled workshop. Between his rough, calloused hands shone the black, glossy gleam of obsidian. Born in fire, the glassy stone's destiny was as tempestuous as its birth. The old man took the shining chunk of rock, and under his careful hand, the stone slowly formed into a keen blade.
On the day of the Full Moon Festival an aged Emperor took a package from the folds of his ornate, crimson robe. As his court prepared to feast, he presented the gift to his eldest daughter. She sat at her father's right hand in the place of honor, for she would inherit the Empire of Charn. The princess pulled back the silken wrapping to reveal the old craftsman's masterpiece—a knife unparalleled among royal weapons.
The grip and hilt were wrought of shining silver, and for a pommel the knife had a deep, sparkling blue sapphire. Upon the black blade that shone in the flickering torchlight was etched a setting sun—the royal emblem of the House of Charn. A hungry gleam filled the princess's steel eyes as she beheld her father's gift.
Almost a year passed, and the princess hungered for power. Her father was old, and what was he to her but a hindrance?
'Twas the hand of his favored daughter and the keen-edged gift he had given her by which the last Emperor of Mighty Charn fell. Little did it matter to her, for now etched in the annals of the temples of Charn were the words:
Jadis, the Queen of the World.
Her younger sister was as hungry for power as she. For years the civil war raged across the Empire, millions of men dying to preserve the rule of a Queen who cared nothing for them.
Finally, victory of the rebels was nigh at hand. Queen Jadis stood alone on the palace terrace, her knife of stone in her right hand and a cool smile resting on her lips.
"Victory!" shouted her upstart sister.
"Yes, Victory, but not yours!" With a smirk the Last Queen of Charn raised her gleaming knife high and uttered the Word that tore the lives of every living being on the face of her world from their helpless bodies.
Thus, Jadis gained a crown, but lost the world.
Thousands of slumbering years passed, and finally the Spell was broken. Broken by a foolish boy ensnared by a simple poem.
Jadis arose yet again to conquer a new world and bend it to her will. The knife never left her bejeweled side as she rampaged through the streets of London. It remained her stalwart companion as she fled the song of the Lion and as she stole into the Silent Garden and ate the fruit that was not for her to take.
Nine hundred years passed, and Jadis remained strong as she built an army of evil, the glistening, fire-born stone ever in her upraised hand. 'Twas this knife by which the beautiful Swanwhite, last of Narnia's Queens of the first royal family fell.
As snow and ice enshrouded the unhappy land, Jadis, Queen of Winter, watched from Cair Paravel's parapet.
"Victory!" Her cry rang across Narnia as she savored the word's sweet taste.
A hundred long years of ice and death passed, and the long forgotten prophecy was reawakened. Whispers stole across the bleak forests that Aslan was on the move. The foretold Four came to Narnia's aid, and as her winter melted around her she vowed,
"No! I will not lose my crown to Him!"
She still had one last chance: fulfill the Laws of the Deep Magic and she could not be stopped. A wicked smile played on her lips as she left Aslan's camp with more than she could have hoped for. Her day of vengeance was at hand.
By night the Great Lion gave himself willingly into her death-ridden hands. She savored that moment, taunting the Lion by the irony that He would die by fulfilling His own law.
As the Stone Knife was stained by the Great Lion's blood, it ceased to be a weapon of conquest, and became a holy relic that bore witness to the Lion's infinite love.
The Witch again saw victory within her grasp upon the plains of Beruna. The enemy ranks turned to stone as they fled, and greed shone once again in her heartless eyes as she stalked her prey—the eldest of the Four.
Without warning her icy power left her as Edmund's sword put a swift end to her wand. He paid dearly for the wrath that he incurred.
Turning again to the task at hand, she threw the broken, bloodied wand aside and drew the ancient Knife. As she prepared to drive the well-honed blade home into the eldest boy's heart, she cried "Victory!"
"Yes, Victory, but not yours!" The Lion roared the all too familiar words as his jaws closed around her throat. The Stone Knife was thrown from her grasp to lie in the sweet Narnian grass among the white headed daisies.
'Twas there that the Ancient Blade's journey truly began.
Author's Note: There you have it. I chose to use obsidian as the stone knife's composition because, while it is technically glass, it is still classified as an igneous rock. According to Wikipedia, a blade of obsidian can be sharpened to near atomic thinness, and is very smooth, unlike steel, when scrutinized under a microscope. It is still used in some surgical scalpels today.
Anyway, this story will take me a long time to complete, and the next chapter may take a while because I still have to outline the story and organize my research notes.
Reviews are always welcome! It won't hurt, I promise. Please?