Full Summary:

High King Peter has always been looking out for his siblings, as he had promised so long ago. But what happens when he can't keep that promise? His younger brother has gone missing and a cold hand of fear and worry close around his heart. His sisters are afraid for him, and there is nothing they can do until they find him, if they find him that is.

Guided by a curious elf girl, he finds clues that only leave more questions unanswered. He is even more mystified when he finds himself falling for her, yearning to grow closer to her.

But the High King might not be so distracted, if he knew what Dark Magic was at use, and the danger that was coming…

PeterxOC EdmundxOC

This is a story that is written as a collaboration with my friend, Jess :)

Prologue written by Jess:

Prologue

A slow monotonous guttural chant could be heard in the shrouded darkness of the night. All around a cracked stone table, creatures of many different kinds stood in unison, swaying to the rhythmic incantation. An Ancient, dark magic, could be felt it all around them, lurking in the shadows that twisted and writhed in time with their sombre mantra.

Flames licked greedily at the oxygen from their oil soaked torches, flaring occasionally in time with the recitation of the creatures, as an array of hooves, paws, stumpy feet and talons stomped the cold pavement in time. The trees in the forest around them shifted uneasily; they could feel it too; the darkness gliding between their thick tree trunks, creeping ever closer.

In an ear-splitting crescendo, the creatures finished, and as they struck the last discorded note, with their guttural voices, and all sound ceased. The air was thick with intensity as the tune still echoed in their minds, waiting with solemn expectation. Suddenly, all the torches around the gathering were blown out, by a vicious howling wind that swirled around them.

In the screaming silence that followed, one creature stepped forward, from between a large group of Harpies. This creature was not like the others, and had not been there before at the beginning of the ceremony, until now. Its face and body was concealed by a long sweeping black cloak, and only its ugly thick curved beak showed through the cowl of its hood.

It slowly ascended the broken steps and stood on the stone table, a huge crack splitting it in two, both halves lying on an odd angle. An inscription of deep magic was engraved around the edges of the table, the same deep magic in which the creature was born.

The creature paused, accessing each and every beast present. Nearly all of the White Witch's Army had been obliterated five years ago in the Battle of Beruna. Now, the few that had survived were back, after years of nurturing their anger and hatred. Over thirty different species of creatures had served under the White Witch, each kind pledging their allegiance. But tonight, of the thirty that had originally been by the White Witch's side – only eleven different species remained, still loyal, still faithful. Their eyes gleamed unanimously with a furious fire for vengeance.

In the deathly silence that hung around the clearing, the ancient creature spoke, a dry throaty voice poisoning the air. "I know what you want," it rasped. "But I can only give you half of what you want." With these words, a decaying, hand reached into the endless folds of dark fabric.

Every beasts' eye was on the creature, each waiting with bated breath, even the Goblins, who were normally restless and fidgety at such gatherings were silent.

Then the gnarled hand drew back, clutched between its bony fingers was a long slender ice-like wand; the very one that their queen possessed.

"That's only half!" snapped one Boggle, its seedy eyes looking annoyed from behind a swollen swine-like snout. "Where's the other half?"

Many of the other Boggles grunted in agreement, as did a few Imps. One particular Goblin sneered at them, stepping apart from his kind, closer to the centre so that he could address the ones in doubt.

"Fools," he hissed through his yellow-stained, jagged teeth. "That is all we need. That is what will help us to start the rebellion!"

The creatures surrounding him all roared in enthusiasm. They all recognised him as the one who had rallied them all there tonight. He was the one who would lead them through to victory.

The ancient creature handed him the broken half of the wand and the Goblin admired it with silent awe. Amidst the shrieks of the Giant Bats and Ghouls as they celebrated with the roaring Ogres and Incubuses, the Goblin could hear the dark creatures words clearly as he gave him the wand.

"Riadyn, remember, this is only half of what you need," it croaked hoarsely. "The other half, is blood."

Riadyn nodded. He had done his research, and he knew exactly what he needed. The bloodbath in the war that was coming, was one he was looking forward to. His eyes glistened with bloodlust. He looked up, and noticed that the creature had abruptly vanished, but the sinister presence could still be felt nearby.

He turned to his followers. "Four children think they can just march in here and claim the throne," he spat with loathing. The impudent children had turned his world, along with every beast present, completely upside down. But now, he thought as he grasped the wand firmly in his hand, that was all about to change.

"Let us set everything right again! Let us rid ourselves of those who think they have what it takes to rule and put a real ruler in their place!" he exclaimed to them. "Let us put everything the way it is supposed to be!"

The roar of agreement was almost deafening. Riadyn smiled to himself. He had an army with him that would follow him loyally to fully restore Narnia. And now, with this wand, they were unstoppable.

He nodded to the three he had individually selected before and explained to them his devious plan. "You know what to do."

With those words, the shifty werewolf, the slouching hag, and the impatient gargoyle all melted back into the shadows, to carry out their task.