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...
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"From a small spark, Great Flame has risen." - Dante Alighieri
Narnia, 2557.
Olivia woke up to the sound of voices. Plural.
She, a tad slumpy, looked over her shoulder, catching a strand of Tirian's blond hair and the beginning of what looked like a blinding white light. But, because of the rope, her movements were minimised, and so was her vision.
"Tirian!" She called a little lazily, and he didn't respond.
Instead, what she heard was the sound of a voice she thought was making her go crazy. "It's fading away!" She heard Susan's voice yell, and Olivia's entire body froze.
How the hell could Susan be there? Her voice? Something was wrong. Something was awfully wrong.
Maybe the mist was back, trying to trick them. Maybe it was Tash, the evil God of Calormen, seizing the opportunity to confuse her. Her mind was spinning in so many different ways. She tried to reach the mist but remembered it had been a long time ago, and she gave the mist back to Aslan.
Edmund. If Susan was there, Edmund was likely to be, too. "Edmund!" Olivia exclaimed, and Tirian gasped.
"What in the hell just happened?" He asked, shaking himself and, consequently, the tree.
"You're asking me?! I just woke up!" She shot back. "Stop shaking, asshat."
He did as told. Olivia's head was pounding as a headache began to grow. "Fuck!" She exclaimed, hitting her heel against the tree. The King remained quiet.
Olivia watched as the golden wisps of the sun emerged on the horizon ever so slowly. It was still a bit dark, but at least she could watch the sunrise– it was always so beautiful and magical.
"What did you see, Tirian?" Olivia asked, looking at the horizon.
"A light. And then, a living room with these eight very familiar people– the blonde boy claimed he was the High King of Narnia and–"
Suddenly, Olivia felt a sharp pain in her lower back. She gasped. Tirian frowned, stopping mid-phrase. "Are you alright?"
It seemed like a tip– sharp like a knife, a weapon. "My dagger. Bloody hell! They didn't take away my daggers!"
"Why didn't you think about that earlier?" Tirian asked, not in a mean way, but just genuinely curious.
"I was too busy thinking about strangling you."
With her free arm, Olivia reached under her dress in a way that would leave her back aching forever, but it was worth it. She grabbed the dagger trapped in her corset, holding it with a glint in her eyes.
