NARNIA STANDS still, a bitter wind sweeping across the land like a foreboding whisper: winter has returned.

Though absent from the world for thirteen centuries, the condemnation wrought by the cracking of the ice is unmistakable in the hearts of the Narnians. It reverberates through the air and travels up one's bones like a war drum pounding a warning beat.

The occupants of the chamber bearing witness to the resurrection are frozen in place. And I am no exception.

Despite having liberated my consciousness from her grasp and regaining a semblance of control over my movements, my body remains enslaved to Jadis's will — a vessel to manipulate and corrupt with mindless submission. How she's managed to enact such powerful command over me and how my curious link to Edmund Pevensie is the only thing keeping me from succumbing entirely to her influence is lost on me. And any desire to understand it ceases to persist in my mind. For all I can do is stand rooted to the spot and stare helplessly at Narnia's greatest evil brought back to life.

CRACK

Fissures race across the surface of the ice, cleaving the blue sheet with arcing white lines like the torn pattern of a spiderweb. Beneath the fracturing surface, Jadis's serene figure is shattered and incongruous with itself. Head tipped back, arms spread outward and fingers splayed, she might've been beautiful — ethereal, even — with her skin turning a soft rose and the drifting, incorporeal skirt of her dress.

CRACK

But my mind is my own; freed from her, it does not defer to bewitched thoughts.

CRRRACK CRACK

And Jadis is nothing more than that: a witch.

The wall of ice shudders and groans, the crevasses spanning its face deepening and spreading outward dozens of tiny cracks like the roots of a tree. Beneath the splintering crystals, the White Witch begins to glow.

Light pours off of her, refracting through the broken ice at every angle and bathing the chamber in a brilliant, wintry white. Eventually, it becomes too much to bear and I have to turn my eyes away.

The breaking of the wall comes faster now, thundering in my ears synchronously with my pulse. I can't see it, but if the dropping temperature in the room is any indication, it must nearly be in pieces. Which means any opportunities we have to stop this are almost gone. I have to do something.

Straining my muscles against her magic, I try to move. My fingers are locked around Rhindon's hilt, unwilling to compromise, while I find some semblance of control over my feet and legs. My arms, though, don't show any promise of movement — frozen in a mold to keep Edmund pinned beneath my blade.

I grind my jaw angrily. Come on...

The path to Edmund — that one, clear place in my mind — hums a warm melody through my bones. I pull on the rope, climbing it to get closer and escape the numbing, silent blanket cast over my senses. My arms shake and the warmth turns to a burning sensation that pools around my cuts and bruises and aching muscles. But I keep climbing and fighting through the haze and the pain I'm finally feeling. I relish in it and the realization that the more I feel, the further I am from her grasp.

And the witch, whose blinding light shines from between the cracks of her frozen prison, remains suspended somewhere between the planes of the world, oblivious to the chimæra gradually slipping from her fingers.

I tighten my grasp around Rhindon's hilt as thunder surges through the cavern and rings in my ears. With it, a blast of icy wind erupts from the wall and prompts me to find proper footing against its force. Looking up through slitted eyelids, I watch the wall encasing Jadis give way. Cracking and splintering, the fractured sheet explodes outward in dozens of jagged chunks.

Without a second thought, I dive at Caspian's legs, tackling him to the ground to avoid getting hit. I can hear Susan shouting for the Narnians to find cover over the cacophony of wind and ice striking stone. Through our connection, I feel Edmund's heart beating in rhythm with my own. He's okay.

Caspian groans and mutters my name, free from his trance by being outside of the ritual circle. Panting, I stare at him and his bleeding palm caused by me — By my hand.

My lungs ache when I breathe. "I'm sorry," I choke out, reaching for my sword. Protesting against what remains of Jadis's enslaving magic, I scramble to my feet and turn to face her.

The last of the light is fading from her figure, leaving the White Witch in all her living glory to stand amidst the shattered wall of ice, her skin tinged pink with life and her platinum hair cascading around her shoulders. A sickly sweet smile adorns her lips as her eyes come to rest on the Narnians in the chamber entrance.

"Did you miss me?" She croons.

I don't wait a moment longer.

Our minds operate on the same wavelength — our thoughts one, flowing river.

In the same moment I reach for the wand, Edmund rises from the floor with his sword held high, prepared to strike her down. Susan follows his lead and calls the Narnians to attack, but the ice blocks at their feet expand upward and seal the army inside the tunnel before they can do anything. Jadis then turns her magic toward Edmund, encasing his blade in a sleeve of ice to weigh it down.

The witch regards him with a chastising smile. "Edmund," she muses. "Have you not yet learned?"

Charging toward her, I pull the ancient wand from the ice it's embedded in and swing my sword upward, putting everything I have behind the weight of the metal. By my hand–

"...I always win."

The wand's crystal tip touches her dress and flashes blue. She stiffens in realization when my blade breaks skin. By her own magic, flesh and bone turn to stone as Rhindon separates her head from her shoulders.

–Jadis will see death again.

━━━༻❁༺━━━

When Caspian and I were kids, we would read all the stories we could get our hands on. Over and over again, we'd pore over age-old texts telling of magic and talking beasts. The Hundred Year Winter, the Winter Revolution, the Battle of Beruna, and Tales from the Golden Age were among our favourites. The two of us dreamed of riding into battle alongside the great Kings and Queens of Old, armour shining and swords raised to the sky. The idea of war was so thrilling — confronting evil, claiming victory, celebrating with a warm feast and a party. In our naive, innocent minds, it was the pinnacle of heroism. And now, having seen it, I can say war is nothing like that.

It isn't noble or exciting or victorious; it's destructive and raw and terrifying. It's feeling hopeless and haunted by your own reflection and being unable to close your eyes at night. It's seeing blood everywhere you go and watching your friends die around you and not eating anything for days — not wanting to. It's a feeling you get in your stomach and your chest like your insides are wrung in a knot and caught up in flames. War is losing everything, even when you've won. It's Hell.

This is Hell.

Her sapphire eyes stare back at me, pale face frozen in horror and shock. Scarlet blood pools on the stone beneath her, staining her hair red. I want to burn it all to ash. I want to pound her petrified body into dust and scatter it so far in the wind she can never piece it back together. I want to scream.

This...is war.

Clearly sharing my thoughts, Edmund approaches Jadis's severed head with a torch and finishes the job. Caspian watches solemnly, his eyes full of remorse. As if he's the one responsible. As if he didn't just watch me draw his blood and hurt our friends — beg me to stop.

I feel my grip tighten around the weapons in my hands. Now that I have time to breathe, the gravity of what I've done hits me full force. And I feel buried beneath a mountain, like the entirety of Aslan's How has collapsed on top of me. I let her manipulate me so easily. Why couldn't I stop her? Did I even try? I feel sick as I relive the last few minutes, throat constricting and tears burning behind my eyes. It was so mindless. I don't remember thinking or feeling anything. I was just...a puppet. And Jadis had the strings. She had the strings.

I hold tighter to Rhindon and the witch's wand, desperate for something to ground me before I lose myself in this hurricane. She had the strings. She always has. Always. Forever. She always will. Always...Always...

The smell of her burning flesh and charred hair makes my stomach churn. But I can't look away from it; I have to be sure it's destroyed.

Distorted voices and noises carry through the ice barrier Jadis created to keep the Narnians out, but I don't move to help them break through the wall. I'm too scared; I don't trust myself not to become a vessel of her will again. What if they hate me? What if her magic still controls me? The phantom feel of her ice-cold fingers locked around my bones seeps into my blood, making me shiver.

Always...Always...

My heart starts beating like it might explode. I can feel myself beginning to panic when Edmund steps into my line of sight. He blocks my view of the flames consuming the White Witch with eyes full of pain and grief. There's no fear in the way he looks at me, even after everything I just did. But I'm scared. I'm terrified I might hurt him again, and he knows that, too. Better than anyone, he knows.

"Ryn," he says, reaching out for my hands. "You can let go."

Softly, his fingers curl around mine and the weapons held tightly in my grasp. But I'm focused on his shoulder and the blood staining his shirt where I cut him. I swallow painfully, the redness of it burning my eyes like the sun.

"Hey." He ducks down so I'm staring into his eyes, instead. "She can't make you do anything. She's gone."

I shake my head, the words like acid in my throat. "No, she isn't."

Edmund doesn't say anything, but his eyes speak for him. He knows it's true. Jadis is dead, but her immortality allows her essence to live forever. With enough knowledge and the right magic, she can always be brought back.

Always.

He nods wordlessly and looks down, easing the wand and Peter's sword from my hands.

I suck in a sharp breath. Peter.

Edmund is startled when I move suddenly: spinning around in search of his brother. Caspian follows my distraught gaze as well, to the High King lying unconscious at the foot of the Stone Table. Blocks of melting ice lay around him but he's not bleeding and I notice immediately that he's still breathing. Still, I rush toward him, leaving Edmund standing next to the witch's headless statue.

He's breathing, I tell myself as I kneel beside his body. I didn't kill him.

"Peter?" With my heart hammering nervously in my chest, I grab his shoulder and try to gently shake him awake.

Almost immediately, he shoots upward with a sharp gasp. Seeing me in front of him, he scrambles backward and gets to his feet, searching frantically for his sword.

"No, wait!" I stand up and try to calm him down, feeling sick to my stomach with everything I've done. "Stop, I'm not...I'm me again. The witch is gone!"

Peter glances uncertainly between me and the petrified body of Jadis, nose wrinkling from the putrid smell of her burning head.

"I'm sorry," I breathe, my voice uneven and cracking. "I'm so sorry. I...I don't know how, but she was controlling me. I didn't know what was happening, I couldn't think."

His eyebrows draw together as he stares at me, though I can't tell if he's waiting for me to attack him again or if he's genuinely concerned. After a few painstaking moments, he relaxes with a heavy exhale. "Arryn, no one's going to blame you for any of this," he says gently. "The White Witch's magic is beyond any of our control. You can't–"

The raucous sound of the ice in the tunnel entrance cracking and breaking apart interrupts him. Peter whirls around in shock as he watches the wall give way to the Narnians. "What in the...?"

The roaring beasts pour through the opening with their weapons at the ready, Diomedus waving his mace in the air as Luzleil and Aknen follow close on his hooves, claws unsheathed and teeth bared. Quickly, the Narnians realize the fight is over and the assault draws to a halt. The fauns and satyrs and assortment of cats and four-legged animals part to let Susan reach the front. She smiles tiredly, relieved to find us all alive and well. But her expression turns disgusted when the smell hits her.

"Oh my God," she mutters. "That's foul."

Nyssa lopes into the chamber behind her, gagging involuntarily.

Susan glances down and shares a knowing look with the cheetah. "Glad I'm not the only one," she says grimly, covering her nose with one hand and waving at the statue with the other. "Well, let's get rid of all this, I guess. The four of you get yourselves to a medic."

While the Narnians file inside to help clean up Nyssa trots toward me, dancing around the ice chunks and puddles of water. I feel my heart inflate seeing my teacher and friend, and hope that she, of all people, will understand and know how to help me.

"Why must you always get yourself hurt?" She demands, tail lashing in annoyance.

I smile weakly.

Edmund plants himself firmly next to me. "It's a bit of a bad habit, isn't it?"

Nyssa actually laughs at his smart reply.

Frowning, I look between the two of them questioningly. "Since when do you know each other?"

Something gleams in the cheetah's golden eyes, but she turns and starts toward the exit before I can properly place it. I turn to Edmund for the answer, surprised to see him blushing the tiniest bit.

"Uh, it was just last night," he explains, following the cat. "After the raid went wrong and you passed out...we..."

"Got acquainted," Nyssa finishes smoothly. Something in her voice suggests there's more than that, but I'm too drained and uneasy to really care. I just follow her silently past the shattered ice wall and into the tunnel toward the central chamber.

Still glued to my side, Edmund brushes his arm against my shoulder. My throat tightens. It feels like so long ago we were trekking across Narnia — through the trees and across rivers and gorges — just the five of us, blissfully unaware of what we were going to face. I wish I could go back.

I lean into him, feeling his arm slide around my waist to both bring me closer and keep me from collapsing on the spot.

By the stars, I wish we could go back.

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author's note

ooooh boy i hate this chapter. i had no clue how to execute what i wanted and i got stuck after every stupid sentence. grrrrr

psa i'm probably not going to update next week because i'm starting my new job and it's my first full week of school after my year off and i happen to be part of the lucky 25% of students that have face to face classes on campus. but i ain't feeling lucky about it! a bitch has glasses! and you wanna know the most abominable combination in existence?! a mask ! and ! glasses ! erhghghhhhhgghh

so, in conclusion, y'all might be waiting two weeks for the next update, which i am not happy about but i can't really do anything about it. i apologize. please don't hate me lmao.

i know you guys are probably still a little confused but everything will be revealed bit by bit! i've been dropping little hints since the earlier chapters and especially in the dream sequences! and since there might be a two-week wait on the next chapter, you guys can go pick through them and piece a few things together if you get bored!

fun fact because i forgot to add one the first time around! ok so apparently there was a ton of music on set and it was always playing. everyone had their own sort of 'theme song' which is literally so hilarious i wonder what it was like so be on set with these guys. anyways, during that awesome, dramatic scene where peter and edmund appear in their armour for the final battle they had kanye west absolutely blasting. I cannot watch that scene with a straight face knowing those two were just strutting to some kanye west lmaooo that shit kills me