(disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned in the Chronicles of Narnia, but I would apreaciate it if no one used my characters in the story. Thank you.)

Prologue

The Antique shop's treasure

Seventeen year old Trina Davis brushed her short brown hair behind an ear and pushed open the door to 'Aunt Alice's Antiques'. The wind chime on the door jangled softly as she gently closed the door and looked around. The room was dim, filled with all sorts of eccentric and interesting artifacts of a former age. All the shelves, though well lined with everything you could think of from an old butter churner, to guns of various times and uses, to books and old loose-leaf papers written on with faded brown ink to dolls and clothes of some long lost era were thickly blanketed with grey dust.

Trina stepped over an old footstool that was inconveniently placed and skirted the long trails of a yellowed wedding gown as she made her way towards the counter hidden somewhere behind all the old relics. As she passed them, she gently brushed the feathered hat of an old porcelain doll and glanced lovingly towards an old silver mirror carved as a tree with the trunk becoming the handle and the mirrored glass placed delicately in the elaborate folds of the tree's branches and leaves. Then she pressed on to the middle of the store, skirting other familiar objects as she went by.

Finally reaching the desk, she walked behind it and laid her brown corduroy purse in it's place beneath the counter and sat down to wait. Business had been slow lately and old Alice Drauncey didn't usually come in anymore, leaving the entire antique store and all of its responsibilities for Trina to take care of. The young girl didn't really mind; the whole place was filled with interesting objects to explore, nooks that had never been discovered and books! Lots and lots of books! There was nothing that Trina liked better than a wonderful book filled with adventure and mystery. She would sit for hours on end reading from the vast variety of antique books the place held.

As she settled back into the big leather-backed chair and pulled out an antique copy of 'Don Quixote', the door opened to the shop with a faint jangle and Miss Alice Drauncey appeared from behind a mass pile of odd-end objects. She smiled at young Trina and noted the book in her hands.

"Just preparing for another day, eh?"

Trina sheepishly hid the book under the counter and straightened. "Sorry, Miss Drauncey. I, uh...I..."

The old maid smiled and came over to the counter, brushing a stack of old books that was placed there with a fingertip. "Don't be sorry; I often would delve into their pages myself when I was about your age. I remember my mother was quite a book reader too; read any adventure book she could get her hands on, especially if they involved strange lands said to be completely different worlds." Miss Drauncey laughed, her voice crackling with age. "My Father used to revoke her using her maiden name. 'Susan Pevensie,' he would say, 'Why don't you put that book down and return to our world for a time!'. Of course he'd only say that when she was too involved with the book to listen to him." The old lady sighed with the memories of her childhood past. "And Mother wasn't exactly in her right mind then, or so Father would tell me."

Trina leaned eagerly forward. "Why? What was wrong?"

Alice Drauncey's face crinkled into a frown, the wrinkled lines around her mouth folding gently over the corners of her lips. "Well, from what I was told as a girl, mother lost all three of her brothers and sisters in a train accident when she was quite young. She never was the same since, always talking of a magic world she said she and her siblings had visited in the war through a wardrobe door, no less! And she always spoke of a strange person, Aslan by name, who she said had anointed them kings and queens over the land. Her tales were wonderful to listen to, if people believed how unrealistic they were."

"Why do you say that?" Trina was very interested in anything to do with magic worlds that were never proven didn't exist.

"Well, I never said that I didn't believe in it, did I?" Miss Drauncey asked, a faint smile flickering in her eyes. "All I said was, 'If people believed how unrealistic they were." The Old lady reached for the intricately wrought mirror at which Trina had looked so fondly just minutes before. "This held all the proof I needed to believe in what my mother said." She handed the mirror to Trina.

Trina traced the delicate silver-work with her forefinger and gazed into the reflective depths of the mirror glass. "This?"

Miss Drauncey nodded. "It was my mother's sister's: my Aunt Lucy's. My mother always kept it in the top drawer of a wardrobe she possessed and often would bring it out to show me. One day as I was admiring the reflection of my face, my mother gave it to me. 'Maybe someday you'll be able to know what I knew,' she would say. That was a long time ago."

Miss Drauncey watched Trina gaze into the mirror. "It's so beautiful," the young girl whispered to herself. Trina looked up from the object in her hands. "And what did you find?"

The old lady shook her head. "That story is for another time."

Trina sighed with disappointment and looked down at the mirror again. Everything about it, from the trunk, to the branches, to the leaves, to the fruit that it bore looked so real, so alive. She studied it with a curious eye, drawing her hand down the side of the tree trunk handle.

Miss Drauncey raised an eyebrow at the girl. "You like it, don't you?"

Trina nodded. "And I'd like to know more of its history."

"Yes, and you've been keeping a close eye on it since you came to work here!"

Trina looked up in surprise. "How did you know?!?"

The older woman laughed. "Ha! Anyone could have told you the same! There have been three offers for it, too, and each time you turned them down!"

Trina's head bowed in shame. "I thought you didn't know."

"Not like I wouldn't find out," the old woman snorted. She laid an old, wrinkled hand on the girls shoulder. "But I'm glad you didn't sell it. I only put it in here to display it anyway" She looked around the dimly lit room. "But I think it's been in this dusty old place long enough." Miss Drauncey reached down and picked up the mirror which Trina had placed on the countertop, put it back in the girl's hands and folded the young fingers around the handle with her old ones. "Here. You take it. It's not like I'll need it anymore; I've had enough of that sort of thing!"

In open awe, Trina looked from the mirror to Miss Drauncey and back. "You mean..."

"Yes! And I hope you use it well." The old woman glanced at the antique grandfather clock standing in the corner. "I'd better be going. Just wanted to check up on you, you know!" She began forging her way back to the door through all of the ancient things decking the room. Trina heard a soft jingle as the door was opened, and Miss Drauncey's voice calling over the mountains of antiques to her. "You know my phone number should you need anything. Stop over for lunch sometime oh! And enjoy the mirror!" With that, Old Alice Drauncey left, leaving a very confused, very curious Trina Davis behind her.

Trina looked at the mirror once more. There was an oddity about it, a strangeness that was quite noticeable. She felt as if she could gaze into it forever, but pulling her eyes from her reflection in it, she pushed it into her purse and picked back up the copy of 'Don Quixote' she had been reading earlier. She could ponder the mirror later; right now she had a giant windmill to slaughter!

(If you want to know what happens next, please review! I might add the first chapter just for anyhow, but I want to know what you think!)