Autumn Nights - A Narnia Oneshot Challenge

Smoke and Mirrors

TW: Horror/graphic monsters

For Tricia, on her birthday. 'Cause she's my bestest friend, and she likes the scary things. I love you, Tiri <3

Prompt: Chilly

~~~

Chills washed over Lucy's body.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Abandoned, just as King Lune said. But "abandoned" didn't seem to quite capture it. Never before had "abandoned" seemed so...void. As if the whole town was a vacuum. A yawning chasm, an abyss—an ulcer in the very stomach of the mountains.

"Per," Lucy said, "I've got a very bad feeling about this."

He glanced back at her. She was only a few feet behind him, Corin bringing up the rear.

"You know," the lord said, "The High King will have me executed when he finds out you came along."

Lucy scoffed. "Well, I wasn't going to let you go alone—"

Peridan rolled his eyes.

"Hey!" Corin protested. "He wouldn't have been alone—"

"Shhh," Peridan put a finger to his lips, eyes flickering. "Watch your volume, boy. We don't know what we're dealing with."

The prince's ears reddened.

Peridan led, leather boots carefully picking their way across the cobblestone paths. It looked just like his own village—the thatched roofs, the logged walls. Uneven fences for household livestock, a crumbling well at the center of everything. It was a small community—only seven houses. Seven families. 22 missing people.

He began to wonder if they shouldn't have brought more soldiers with them—

A cottage tucked between two sheds caught his eye. The door was ajar. Peridan turned to his companions, nodding toward the house. He pushed the door open slowly, the old hinges crying in pain. It was dim, all the lamps and candles extinguished. The lord stepped inside, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight.

"It looks like they fled—" Lucy said, glancing around. It was clearly a lived-in space, clean dishes sitting in a tub, waiting to be put away. A half-empty mug of beer sat at the head of the table, evidently a few days old. Lucy stepped on something soft and let out a small yelp. She leaned down to pick up the culprit. A lump formed in her throat. It was a rag doll. Lucy's eyes snapped up to meet Peridan's, her own swimming with tears. Peridan nodded solemnly. The young queen bit her lip, chin threatening to tremble. She dusted off the doll and laid it gently on the kitchen table.

"What's this?" Corin asked from the corner of the kitchen. He picked up a mortar and pestle from a bench covered in various herbs.

Peridan glanced over the table. "Herbology, looks like."

"Perhaps the father was an apothecary," Lucy offered.

Corin picked up a white-flowering weed. "What's an apothecary doing with Queen Anne's Lace?"

"Don't touch that!" Peridan shouted. Corin dropped it immediately, holding up his hands. "That's hemlock—it's got purple splotches on the stem." Peridan rushed to the young prince's side, glancing at his hands. He sighed. "Come on, Your Highness. We ought to wash off your curious paws—Don't touch anything, especially your face." Peridan grabbed Corin by the wrist, holding one contaminated hand far from both of them. He led him outside.

Alone in the house, Lucy shivered. She studied the apothecary bench, careful not to brush against any of the plants. What kind of apothecary kept around poison? Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy caught of flash of her reddish-brown locks in the mirror above the bench. Her heart skipped a beat, settling again when she realized it was her own reflection. She studied the mirror, curiously out of place. The oblong glass was framed by wrought-iron vines, a gothic air unsuitable for the little country home. Something flashed behind her shoulder.