There was once a prophecy. A prophecy so old that only the greatest minds and warmest of hearts could remember it. A prophecy made by the great rulers of Narnia when the country was first formed. A prophecy of love, sacrifice and one who had lost all hope.
Now Narnia was a country of darkness. Even though the war had broken out centuries ago, remnants of it remained, even in the great castle of Cair Paravel. The only outbreak of hope and light was the great lion Aslan. He almost seemed to shine light and hope onto the people, so they no longer had to live in darkness and despair.
The only place that light couldn't reach was was the castle. That was where the greatest darkness dwelled. This darkness was different to others, it was not evil or destructive, it was cold, broken and hopeless. This darkness refused to even let the light near him, it was to painful. It brought back memories, memories he didnt want to remember, but memories he could never forget. This darkness had a name, Edmund.
When people lose hope there is always a reason. Usually the reason is buried so deep within their soul that it is impossible to retrieve. Therefore normally you can never help them, they remain cold and broken till the day they die.
This time that couldn't happen. We couldn't afford it to, if it did, then everyone would lose hope and our country would die. It would become a world of cold snow and shattered ice, a land dictatorship and evil.
The whole of the land knew of the despairing king. The worst part was they knew why, they knew why when they had hope he had none. They knew the reason why all day the king sat alone in the throne room or in the dungeons waiting for the day to end, for the torture to be over.
He thought at night it would end, the memories would go and he would be free of the chains wrapped so tightly around his heart. That's what he thought, but at night it got worse, the memories came to life. He remembered the two young princes, the person he used to be but didn't want to even associate with himself now.
He remembered the lion the, wretched lion that was supposed to bring peace. He remembered what that lion had done to his family, when he sent his father to war. He hated them, he hated the telmarines.
She wrecked their family, his mother was murdered when he was young, no one knew why. Her body was found at the edge of the great woods coated in blood, a hole pierced straight through her heart.
His father was killed in the great battle against the telmarines at Beruna. His body was never found, it washed away in the raging river. A portrait of his father was hung outside the kings room. Every time he went in or came out he felt sick. He didn't want to remember his wrecked family, it hurt to much. This was why after a while the king could stand it no longer and had every picture of his parents burnt or destroyed.
The pictures and symbols of Aslan were destroyed as well. The young king had lost hope, only a few remnants remained, the ones his older brother the High King wanted.
The High King was Aslan's warrior, he was the was the one who believed, he never lost hope. However one day this King was to become doomed just like his parents before him. His name was Peter."
