Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: "Life is a reflection of intent. Love reflects love. Hate reflects hate." - Jonathan Lockwood Huie

Can the reflection in the ocean waves be trusted?

A/N: If you have not read the first six stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, and Refracted), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Twenty-Five: Circe's Island

23 Mayblossom 1008

"Dalzeel, you're an infuriating nitwit, but even you should have sense enough to give us the correct location."

Oreius' fingers itched to be at the fool's throat as the man focused on Dame Sepphora. Dalzeel offered a wan smile, clearly still worried about Dame Sepphora's threat from two days past. "Now, let us not forget our good friends the, uh, trygon, which be flat and they hide in plain sight, your royal loveliness."

Dame Sepphora rolled her eyes. Oreius stepped forward, forcing the nit back when he leaned too close to Dame Sepphora. "Dalzeel!"

"Fairly sure there should be a 'Captain' in there somewhere, mate." Dalzeel pointed a finger at him. "And you be interrupting me explanation." The nit stepped around him to look at Dame Sepphora. "He be rude. Can you report him? As I was saying before this one so rudely interrupted me, we can learn much from trygons because they be clever little flat fish, hiding in the sand where no ones can find 'em. Like Circe's isle, it-"

Frustration finally getting the better of him, Oreius grabbed Dalzeel by the back of his tunic and dragged him over to the railing. "There is nothing here. You provided Captain Attar with headings that have led us nowhere. And you seem to think we would be inclined to believe Delos is buried in the sand?"

Dame Sepphora's quiet words caught his attention before he followed through on the impulse to toss the infuriating nit of a smuggler into the sea. "I doubt he meant his words to be taken quite so literally. Let's hear what drivel he has left and then you can toss him overboard."

Oreius set the nit back on the deck. "Then speak plainly and quickly."

The smuggler made a show of straightening his grimy tunic. "Delos don't be like other isles, savvy? You only find it if Circe be wanting you to find it. The old man must've had ties to her or she would've scuttled him and the girl for making berth on Delos. Sometimes the isle be there and sometimes there be naught to see. It be Circe's doing." He held up both hands when Oreius took one step forward. "This be the right place, mate, you've the word of Captain Dalzeel on that. But I canna make the isle appear if Circe don't to cease hiding."

Clenching his fists, Oreius leaned toward the nit, crowding him back against the railing. "If you are lying again, Dalzeel. You will wish it was Dame Sepphora's punishment you suffered."

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"Aslan!" Heart pounding, Lucy could hardly fathom the sight of her brother kissing that creature. The creature flinched at the sound of the Name. She turned, bluish-green lips peeling back to reveal a mouthful of razor-sharp, pointed teeth. Edmund's blank gaze turned as well. Lucy rushed toward them. With the creature that had been Leto so close to him, this might be her only chance to free her brother from the illusion before harm befell him. "Edmund! Edmund! Look!" Stretching out her arm, she held up the mirror. "Edmund!"

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Edmund watched as Leto flinched at the cry. But, then her hazel eyes widened and she shoved at him. "Beware, my King!"

He spun in time to see Pratima charging, a blade in one hand and something else in the other hand that he couldn't quite glimpse. Unsheathing Shafhelm, Edmund instinctively stepped forward, placing himself between Leto and Pratima. Leto had been tormented by the vile witch for too long. It was time to end Pratima's reign of terror and cruelty once and for all.

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As her own brother raced toward her, sword at the ready, Lucy felt strangely warm. She held up the mirror while bringing her dagger underneath it, ready to deflect Shafhelm's blow. "Aslan! Edmund, look in the mirror!"

But there was no hint of recognition in his eyes. The glazed look remained unchanged and disturbingly at odds with the intense protectiveness seizing the rest of his features. Shafhelm rose. Lucy screamed, "Aslan!"

Something barreled into Edmund just as he was about to bring his sword down. A flash of pain radiated from her left arm a little below her elbow. Tarrin shouted, "No! It's your sister! It's your sister, King Edmund!" Lucy caught a glimpse of Tarrin wrestling with Edmund.

Then something struck her in the middle. A hot pain flared before she knocked to the patio floor. Gasping for breath, Lucy looked up to meet the too-human gaze of the creature. The creature's lips parted in a smile before she ran a dark, snake-like, forked tongue over the fronts of her pointed teeth. "Such a foolish move, but what can you expect from a Daughter of Eve who has no true concept of magic, of power?"

Lucy blinked. The dulcet, breathy tone belonged to her mind's image of Pratima, but Edmund would never kiss Pratima. Not after he spent so much time chasing her off and then hunting to pinpoint her lair for black magic. She tried to speak but the creature pressed the end of the staff against her sternum then kicked her in the side, causing her to lose all breath.

The creature sneered. "Pitiful. I know not where you acquired that mirror, but your attempts to break my illusion over your brother are futile. As for the other Son of Adam, if his lifeblood does not spill this night, I shall once more set my noose about his neck soon enough." Still unable to draw a deep breath, Lucy carefully twisted her left hand, hiding her dagger among the folds of her skirts. The ornaments decorating the creature's hip scarf clacked together as she shifted her feet then bent closer to Lucy, increasing the pressure of the staff against her sternum as she did so. "Perhaps, you might explain to me, how is it two of the ones who supposedly toppled Jadis learned nothing in regards to believing everything you see as truth? Your eagerness to aid others, all that charity, was your greatest weakness and it made you so vulnerable, so easy to manipulate. Everything you saw, I created. I, Circe, goddess of the seas, was Leto and Pratima and even Cora at times. And you, Humans, were too dense to realize it." The creature, Circe, smiled once more. "Though, your brother was inexperienced, he was quite talented at kissing. I think I shall keep him as a plaything until he dies or I grow bored and kill him."

Ignoring the painfully increasing pressure against her chest, Lucy pulled her dagger free and struck at Circe's near leg. Green blood welled to the surface when her silver blade sliced deftly into the bluish-green skin. Circe shrieked, a horrible sound that seemed to combine the shrillest of gulls with the scraping of claws against slate. She lifted her staff and struck. Blinding pain seared Lucy's right wrist as the staff made contact. She screamed then Circe brought her staff down once more. The mirror shattered into a hundred different pieces. Lucy screamed again. "No! Aslan! No!"

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Gasping, Edmund struggled to break free of the hulking weight of Pratima's guard. He heard Lucy scream again. Scanning the patio, he didn't see her. Instead, Leto was standing in the center of the patio, fighting for control of a spear. Pratima was hanging on to the spear. Mother and daughter were near mirror images of each other, only their contrasting dresses allowed him to readily pick who was who as Pratima was clad in a poisonous green while Leto wore a deep red.

Pratima opened her mouth and screamed in Lucy's voice. "Aslan!"

Leto flinched. No doubt she was as shocked as Edmund that Pratima's trickery extended to mimicking Lucy. Fear filled him at the though of what torment Pratima might have put Lucy through to make her scream in such a way. Pratima wrenched the spear away then cruelly toyed with her daughter by swinging the blunt end of the spear against her knee, knocking her off her feet. She hissed, "No more, Circe!"

He had to rescue Leto. Wrenching one arm free of his captor, Edmund slammed his fist against the guard's square jaw. The guard yelped. "What are you-"

Edmund didn't give him the chance to attract Pratima's attention. He slammed his forehead against the guard's face, breaking his nose, and then kicked him off. Leto kicked out at her mother but the witch avoided her strike. Pratima turned toward him and smiled. She snatched up a mirror shard then ran toward him, her arm outstretched.

Shafhelm wasn't where he thought it was. Edmund braced himself to grab Pratima's arm. Leto scrambled to her feet, her copper-toned hair falling haphazardly around her shoulders. Her eyes were wide with fear but there was a determined glint in their hazel depths as well as she shakily raised Shafhelm. He gave her an encouraging nod.

The guard gave a muffled shout. Pratima turned. The witch ducked under Leto's desperate strike. Lunging forward, Pratima screamed, "For Aslan!"

Leto gasped. Then she staggered back, Shafhelm clattering to the patio, as she raised a hand to the dark red blossoming around the dagger buried in her heart. A sharp pain drove Edmund to his knees. Leto collapsed. Pratima turned toward him and spoke in Lucy's voice, "Edmund!"

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A/N: Please Read and Review! Okay, so no hope for those of you who were rooting for Leto (sorry). Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one. And have a happy Memorial Day weekend. :D

A/N2: "Trygon" is the name by which the ancient Greeks knew the Common Stingray. Just a random bit of trivia if anyone was wondering what Dalzeel was rambling about this time. ;)