The White Witch's Son | Casmund

2

~92 years ago~

"My dear prince, you're getting bigger every day. Just to think, it's only been six years since I rescued you from those horrid parents. Now, my darling, it is time to receive your destiny. As my child shall my doom come, you will resurrect me, but to do so, my prince, you need magic of your own," the witch said, guiding her six-year-old son to her throne, "now sit and accept the power given to you. It will only hurt a bit."

Edmund nodded. He's ready; he's born for this, born to bring their enemies to their knees, to accept his place as his mother's prince, his mother's white warlock. He watched as his mother drew her staff, pointing it at him, and the last thing he remembered was a bright white light and excruciating pain.

He strode into the throne room with his wolves following close behind. The creature is dead, and the news he brings is a warning towards the prophecy, that is, if he tells her. On the walk back, Edmund has been thinking through his options, he should tell his mother what he's learnt, but he doesn't know whether to wait to find out more about Aslan's rumoured return before telling his mother everything. She won't be impressed, Edmund's sure of that, but she would forgive him if he knew for sure whether Aslan has returned to Narnia and if the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve have already stepped foot in their world.

"My prince, you've returned with good news," his queen said from her throne.

"Of course, your majesty. The creature is dead," Edmund said. His mother rose from her throne and strode towards him; her cold hand touched his face.

"You look troubled, my prince; what is it?" she asks; one look at her face and Edmund's resolve cracked; he can't keep this secret from his mother; it is too much.

"The creature before it... died spoke of Aslan's return," Edmund said. The witch snatched her hand away from Edmund as if his words scolded her.

"And have you confirmed whether this return is true," she asked.

"I have not, Mother," Edmund answered, and the back of her hand smacked his face. His cheek throbbed, but he was familiar with this pain. For the 100 years he's lived in this world, he knew that his mother didn't take well to failure.

"Then you have failed me, Edmund," she gripped his shoulder tightly, "I want answers. Has Aslan returned, and if so, are there any children of Adam here?"

The witch released his shoulder before storming back to her throne, "Get out of my sight this instant; I don't want you to return until you know for certain whether Aslan has returned, where he is and whether he's gathered the children from the prophecy destined to overthrow my kingdom."

"As you wish, your majesty" Edmund bowed before marching out of the castle; he had work to do.

Edmund set out alone, trudging through the forest, listening. The quiet forest spoke to him, whispering in his ears, guiding him. The trees were loyal to his mother and therefore serviced him greatly; if someone spoke of Aslan's supposed return, the trees would've heard. All he needs is a location for Aslan's camp or the place the creatures still loyal to the lion gathered; if Aslan isn't here, then Edmund can wipe the supporters off the face of Narnia, a warning to others who dare try to defy his mother, yet if Aslan has return then that will complicate things.

"My prince," the trees whispered, "a fox only two miles away speaks the name of the lion."

Edmund smiled. So, they speak the name of Aslan surrounded by his loyal subjects, amateurs.

"If you head there now, Aslan will await you! Soon the white witch's reign will end," the creature spoke to the two beavers. Edmund watched from the side; the fox or the beavers seemed to notice his presence.