wis·dom
/ˈwizdəm/
noun
the quality of having experience, knowledge, and good judgment; the quality of being wise.
Narnia had always been a free country, until she came along. Jadis was the devil in disguise, and she brought to the kingdom an eternal...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear." - C.S Lewis
Narnia, 2318
Olivia was running.
Her heart pounded firmly against her chest like the restless beat of war drums, breath uneven as her chest heaved up and down uncontrollably. Her muscles threatened to buckle and let her fall, weary and tired as the numbness only grew. The sweat cascaded down her forehead, body begging to give up and succumb to death, let her soul leave her body with a final breath.
But she was too proud to do that. Olivia Kirke Olmore was too proud to give up and succumb to her demons and weaknesses, despite the call like a siren's voice persuading her to give up, fall to the ground and let go.
So she would run, run until she died. Because her enemies and torments were catching up, and she couldn't face them again.
She couldn't see Rabadash's devilish grin when he looked at her like a prize to be won, Gally's smirk when the sword punctured Olivia's ribs, Jadis'a sharp gaze on her like she was the devil in disguise, her father's dead body, without a breath or a pulse, eyes unblinking and static.
Demons made Olivia weak. They haunted her soul, pursued her nightmares, corrupted her dreams and hopes. She was Queen Olivia the Warrior, and she couldn't have something to haunt her. Not when it could put an entire Kingdom at stake. Weakness was a luxury reserved for those without responsibilities weighing them down.
Yet, it caught up. The figure of a massive wine-red dragon loomed over her figure as she stepped over a rock in a personification of her Achilles' heel, his shadow shading the red sun burning in the white sky of this twisted world.
In its eyes, Olivia could see her own fear– a bitter taste on her tongue, the poison that refused to leave no matter the medicine she took or the amnesia she tried to force on herself. It was a reflection of her dread, of what made her cry to sleep every night and what forced her to awake with an empty feeling in her stomach.
The dragon let out a mighty roar, showing its fangs and spittle flying in her face. His great paw trapped her, and Olivia knew she was a goner, that the fates were playing her like a pawn on their board, discardable.
But he didn't eat the girl or tear her apart like she had expected. Instead, the dragon looked over his shoulders just as the sounds of nearing steps came, getting louder and louder, closer to the Queen's ears.
First, she saw Jadis, the white witch herself, wicked elegance as a living being. She, who had been slain by the great lion, killed in battle. But there she was, a cynical smile on her face as she watched a helpless Olivia debate against the dragon's strong claws.
"Ah, sweet Olivia," She called. "So alone. So helpless... Tell me, where are your friends? Your family?"
The Queen didn't bother responding, still debating against the dragon's claws. "You're weak without them. A Queen poorly dependent on others, a ruler who crumbles without the precious feeling of company. They've abandoned you, child. Peter, Lucy, Susan. Edmund, your kind husband. Digory, your enthusiastic grandfather. Even Aslan, the oh-so-great lion you have trusted."
