"HOW MANY?"
I don't want to ask, and I definitely don't want to hear his reply, but I'm afraid if I don't do it now I'll never have the strength to go back out there and face the Narnians again. I have to do it now. I have to know.
His eyes are dark and heavy with pain when they meet mine and I realize too late how unprepared I am for this reality.
"About a third," he replies thickly.
My legs turn weak and I have to catch myself against the nearest stone pillar, my breathing becoming painful. One third? We lost sixty Narnians? I've been dreading asking this — dreading the answer I'd receive because I knew it wouldn't be good, and I know it could've been worse, so much worse, but...sixty? Sixty of my friends killed in an act of war that could've been stopped but instead was lost? Sixty lives?
Edmund starts toward me. "Ryn, I..."
"I'm fine," I insist breathlessly, eyes closed against the memories of the battle — the lifeless bodies of the Narnians I grew up with sprawled across the courtyard while I flew away. Marnus, Tyrus, Tozinks, Aulgris, Verdan...
Oh, Aslan help me...Verdan.
I feel Edmund's arms around me, drawing me close to him in a comforting hug that I don't try to fight this time. Numbly, I sink into his embrace, the realization of what happened last night setting in like a storm. Verdan's mischievous blue eyes flicker across my vision and I feel as if my heart might shatter.
"I flew away," I breathe, the words catching like a dagger in my throat. All the times we chased each other through the woods and he helped me perfect my wolf form and taught me to hunt in the pack; how he always sat and waited for me at the edge of the trees when I visited and he was always there when I needed someone. His voice and his laugh and the way he loved so fiercely to run with the pack. How his eyes would light up around his brother and sister like they were everything. And I left. Ez and Ness...I wasn't even there. I should have been there.
Tears slip from the corners of my eyes and I cling tighter to the boy before me like I might drown. I wasn't there for them.
Edmund holds me close, offering his warmth and his steady, beating heart and his strong arms around me like a line anchoring me to shore — to him. And through the crashing storm and the suffocating dark, I hold tight.
━━━༻❁༺━━━
Amongst all the activity and heat and noise in the main chamber of Aslan's How, Susan Pevensie returns from visiting the battered war party troops recuperating in the northern tunnels. Ever the strong Queen of legend, she wears an unwavering mask of courage and resilience: shoulders pulled back confidently, graceful strides purposeful and long, blue eyes full of vigour and resolve. She smiles and nods to each Narnian as she passes them hard at work hauling weapons, forging armour, or handing out provisions. Her gaze lands on me as I stride down the centre aisle toward her, and though her lips are turned upward in a welcoming smile she seems surprised to see me.
Susan pauses in her rounds to talk to me, her voice soft when she speaks. "How are you doing?" She asks, her eyes communicating a gentle, silent demand: please don't lie.
I swallow, my throat tightening. "I'm...getting through it."
Her lips purse thoughtfully at my words and she nods. Hurriedly, I continue before my emotions can set in again. "Have you seen Caspian?"
"I..." Susan trails off and considers this for a moment, a frown working at her mouth. "Now that you mention it, I don't think I've seen him since we returned."
I'm not at all surprised. I figured he'd have found a place to hide for a while by now. In the palace, it was the western tower he'd always take refuge in. But here, he could be anywhere inside or outside. He's probably at the Table, I realize dumbly.
"Try asking Glenstorm," Susan advises, tugging on the leather strap of her quiver.
"I'll do that, thanks." Might save me time we don't exactly have to spare. With that, we continue on our separate ways — her to the upper levels and me to the northern tunnels.
I didn't want to leave Edmund and his warm, comforting embrace in the upper chambers. In fact, it's the last thing I wanted to do. But the need to talk to Caspian was going to drive me mad if I kept ignoring it. I had to leave him because I know Caspian and right now, he's not okay. My best friend is hiding somewhere in pain and I'm not going to abandon him to deal with it alone any longer.
The returned war party is near silent save for a few echoing conversations and shuffling as they settle down to catch up on lost sleep or eat something. I make sure to keep my footsteps quiet while navigating the expansive, pillared cavern. Tired, battle-worn faces look up at me as I pass. I offer them what strength I can muster in reassuring smiles, wondering if they recognize the face before them as the same one that left them to their fate in that courtyard. The Narnian who fled.
"My dear Arryn."
I turn toward his voice, bowing my head. "Glenstorm."
The centaur's expression remains solemn and he beckons me to an unoccupied space. Something about him seems...off. Though, after the night's events, I don't suppose any of us are particularly feeling ourselves at the moment.
Through the low light in the tunnels, the general nods to a pair of centaurs busy treating wounded soldiers, one of whom is the ever-unnerving Starlock. They return the greeting before resuming their work and Glenstorm turns to face me with sadness clouding his eyes.
I wring my hands together nervously. "How is everyone?"
"Weary," he sighs. "Disheartened; in need of rest. And how are you faring?"
I shrug, already tired of the question. "As best I can."
Glenstorm regards me sorrowfully, reaching one hand out to grasp my shoulder. "Remember," he says gravely, "where your strength lies."
Wordlessly, I nod. The double meaning present in his words is painfully obvious, but finding a lack of purchase in my mind. A thousand questions arise in the back of my throat but all I can do is stand silently beneath the intensity in his gaze, wondering if he might offer an explanation or leave me to decipher the hidden message.
"He's at the Stone Table." Glenstorm's hand falls back to his side, tail swishing as he shifts his weight. "Go to him."
Quite suddenly, I remember the reason I came to the centaur in the first place and I don't need any more encouragement to leave. I turn, finding myself caught this time under a pair of disconcerting grey eyes. Starlock's sharp stare burns into me despite the distance between us, as if with her silver irises she's finally unravelled my knotted thread and found it stained red. Her eyes — those awful, chilling eyes — flash dangerously and fill with such urgency I feel my heart lurch. The urge to run is almost overwhelming. She knows something.
Hardly sparing Glenstorm a muttered farewell, I spin quickly on my heel and make a straight line for the central chamber. Something is not right. Something is terribly wrong and they know it; Caspian must be in the middle of it.
My heart beats faster with every quickened step I take. Caspian is in trouble.
That thought alone prompts me to hasten my pace to a near-jog. I hadn't thought to retrieve my sword from the war room earlier, so I'm completely without a weapon and will have to rely, once again, solely on shifting. I pray to the stars that whatever mess Caspian's gotten himself into will not require such measures. If it's serious, Glenstorm wouldn't have allowed me to go off alone...would he?
Cursing centaurs and their damned ambiguity, I make a split decision before turning down the Stone Table's tunnel and catch Trumpkin on the stairs, asking him to find Peter and Edmund and get to the Table as quick as they can. The red dwarf doesn't miss the gravity in my words and, with a determined nod, turns and hurries back the way he came.
Too anxious to wait any longer, I spin around and break into a run. I hope I'm just being paranoid and am making a big deal out of potentially nothing, but something in the centauress's eyes was so haunting… I shiver, the image of her stare flashes in my mind. It was too real to not be a big deal. There was so much real terror in her eyes I felt it in myself — still feel it. I can't risk not taking percautions.
The painted walls of the tunnel coalesce into a stony blur, interspaced by the flickering orange light of torches. My panicked breathing and rapid footfalls echo through the hall so all it's all I can hear past the thrumming of my own heart and the roaring pulse in my ear. I don't want to think of what might greet me at the end — if Caspian's name will be another added to the list of lives I did nothing to save. Please be okay...please.
The end of the tunnel comes into view past the last bend, orange and blue light stretching from the entrance. The wrongness of the peculiar colourdoesn't exactly register in my mind until I lay eyes on the chamber's interior. Dread unfurls in the pit of my stomach. By the Lion's mane...
The first to notice my presence is the woman in the ice.
She lifts her gaze from the figures gathered before her, platinum hair a floating halo framing her face. Within the wall of ice situated between the pillars, she's quite possibly the most beautiful person I've seen; with skin like smooth ivory and a strong, angular face that could've been carved from a glacier. A dress white as snow clings to her figure and drifts languidly about her legs as though suspended in crystalline water. I feel frozen beneath the weight of her gaze. An elegant, dangerous smile adorns her pink lips, and when she speaks in a lilting, silver-edged voice it's as if my bones hum their own, delighted response.
"A chimæra."
At her divided attention, the congregation turns around curiously. The hunched hag with her obsidian-bladed knife tilts her head at me while Caspian, restrained by an angry werewolf, stares with his eyes full of desperation.
Nikabrik lifts a finger in my direction, sneering. "That's her, my queen."
Caspian struggles violently against his captor. "Sefi, no!" He shouts. "You have to fight it! Don't let her–!"
Jadis's sharp-cut, sapphire eyes flash in his direction. "Silence him."
The werewolf growls and does something that makes the prince cry out in pain. That seems to snap me out of whatever daze I'm in.
Adrenaline blazing through me, I feel my muscles tense to shift when ice slides up my spine. Like creeping, cold fingers, the sensation climbs the lengths of my bones and spreads to the tips of my toes. My rapid breathing slows, the thundering of my heart reduced to a calm, steady beat. Any thoughts or ideas in my mind turn to dust so there is only one voice: hers.
When I exhale, my breath is a fine cloud of frosted white in the air.
Caspian makes a strangled noise, fighting for his voice. My gaze drops from the White Witch to rest on him, and that's all it takes for his efforts to stop. The werewolf loosens his hold on the paralyzed prince with a smirk curling his lips from his teeth.
Caspian visibly swallows, his fearful brown eyes pouring into me. "Sef?"
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author's note
oh my haha cutting it off here because cliffie (hopefully)!
also because this chapter has been mocking me, unfinished, for nearly three weeks now and all i want is to metaphorically flip it off so this is my way of finally doing it lmao. i need to move on and get this story rolling again!
does anyone think they know what's going on yet/have any theories? are my descriptions super cringey? i've reread this so many times i can't tell when it's garbage and when it's not so i'm actually, like, highkey nervous none of it is going to make sense ahahah let me know if i should do some editting!
(not really) fun fact: the werewolf in this scene is almost completely animatronic! & in between takes, ben barnes was checking out the costume (because it's super cool and realistic) and he had no idea the actor was actually wearing it at the time so he got a nice scare lol
anyways, hope this chapter wasn't that bad and the cliffhanger is an actual cliffhanger ? lmao tbh i've never done one before… idk i tried my best.
but I have to go make some comfort food and watch black panther because 2020 is a bitch so peace out dudes!