Will Briar begin a new era of witches, or will history repeat itself? Either way, Edmund won't be tricked twice.
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"If I perish, I perish. You can take my life, but you can't take my will." In which a girl born of Narnia's two greatest adversaries...
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She'd never seen a Lion before.
He was nothing like Briar expected, but He was also everything that she had heard He would be. He was a great creature, as tall as a horse with a lean, strong body. He bore a magnificent, golden mane, billowing in the breeze as He stood atop a boulder overlooking a rushing river.
After a moment, He turned to her. A pair of remarkable, green, and yellow eyes shone at her. They looked straight through her. For some reason, that didn't scare her. It only made her feel warm and soft, just like how His mane must've felt.
His expression was patient. Expectant. Briar's thoughts, though they did not race, searched. The Lion was waiting, waiting for her...or on her. To do what? What did He want? What did He need from her? What could He possibly be expecting of her?
Questions knotted in her throat all the way down to her chest. I don't know what you're expecting, Briar pleaded as he blinked slowly at her. What do you want?
Just as she began to step forward, a warm, invisible tether around her heart resisted. A golden thread tugged back, urging her to take her leave. For some reason, Briar found herself following it, though her eyes stayed on the Great Lion.
His wise, hazel eyes only gazed at her once more.
* * *
Birds chirped overhead. The sound pulled her mind out like a heavy object on a dangling rope. Nothing sounded real, it itched and shivered somewhere far away. Echoes whispered here and there. Something flowed around her. It pushed and tapped, coaxing her to come out, to follow.
Briar's eyes flew open, and so did an entire river from her mouth.
Everything was heavy, wet. Invisible shackles broke free from her wrists. The weight suffocating her vanished. She rolled over, choking. The liquid felt like hot acid, searing her throat as she coughed it out onto the rocky shore.
"Ah, she lives!" A chipper voice sprang up out of nowhere.
She breathed rapidly, clinging to the feeling of thin air and solid ground. When her blurry vision cleared, she saw the same boulder she'd seen not a minute ago. - and the Lion was gone.
Instead, she saw something else.
Briar had to rub her eyes to make sure she was seeing clearly. Right before her was a mouse no taller than two feet, standing upright with a hand—paw rested atop what must've been the smallest rapier she'd ever seen. His fur was a golden tan, and he had a white, pointed face full of whiskers and a friendly pair of eyes.
"That was quite the swim you must've had," it remarked, approaching to give her a worrisome sniff.
