( 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗟𝗬 𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥 𝗘𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 )
𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇
⸻ Cordelia Winterbourne's ordinary life with her mother was shattered by the onset of war, prompting Cordelia's mother to make a gut-wrenching decision by sending her daughter away for...
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"So, Seraphina?" Peter began as we walked.
"To be honest, I don't know what to believe now," I said, letting out a sigh before continuing.
"I heard that name in my dreams, it all started the night we stayed at the mansion," I explained. "Remember the night we camped outside after the fox left?"
Peter nodded, listening along with the others.
"I dream about a woman I didn't recognize, calling me by that name and mentioning I was her child. She urged me to come home, which still confuses me," I rambled.
"Maybe she was the mother everyone kept mentioning?" Peter suggested, and I glanced at him as he shrugged.
"I suppose so," I replied.
"Have you seen her face in your dreams?" Susan asked. I shook my head gently.
"I don't quite remember it," I replied.
"What about the sword that appeared in your hand?" Lucy asked with genuine curiosity.
"I think that's her power that everyone else mentions," Peter added.
I didn't say anything else as I was still processing the kind of power I had. We walked in silence until a view, which I assumed was Aslan's camp, came into our sight.
As we drew nearer, centaurs, fauns, and other animals encircled the area, their gaze fixed upon us. It seemed they recognized me, the way they stared as if I had intruded upon their property.
"Why are they all staring at us?" Susan questioned.
"Maybe they think you look funny," the youngest Pevensie quipped, eliciting a chuckle from Peter and I.
We reached a stop before the tent, presumably Aslan's residence, with a lone centaur stationed nearby. Peter unsheathed his sword, raising it aloft.
"We have come to see Aslan," he announced.
The centaur remained silent, simply directing his gaze toward the entrance of the tent, prompting us to do the same.
Everyone then suddenly kneeled to the ground and bowed.
"Whoa," I murmured, taken aback by the sudden gesture of respect. My focus shifted back to the tent as a lion emerged from it.
As he approached us, his presence radiated power and dignity. We kneeled and bowed before him, acknowledging his authority and nobility.
"Welcome, Peter, Son of Adam," Aslan began, then shifting his gaze to the Pevensie girls. "Welcome, Susan and Lucy, Daughters of Eve."
His gaze then rested on me. "Welcome, Cordelia, the Protector of the Realm."
"And welcome to you, Beavers," Aslan acknowledged, directing his gaze towards the beavers. "You have my thanks."
"But where is the fifth?" he questioned. Peter rose from the ground, signaling for us to do the same.
"That's why we're here, sir," the blond Pevensie said. "We need your help."
"We encountered a little trouble along the way," added Susan.
"Our brother's been captured by the White Witch," Peter explained.
"Captured? How could this happen?" the King of Narnia asked. But Peter didn't say anything, finding it difficult to voice the words, so the beaver spoke up on his behalf.
"He betrayed them, Your Majesty," he disclosed, causing murmurs among the centaurs, fauns, and the others.
"Then he has betrayed us all!" the centaur beside Aslan exclaimed indignantly.
"Peace, Oreius," Aslan intervened. "I'm sure there's an explanation."
Peter was silent for a moment before mustering the courage to voice his feelings.
"It's my fault, really," he began, "I was too hard on him."
Standing beside her brother, Susan reached for his arm, offering comfort. "We all were."
"Sir, he's our brother," Lucy stated.
"I know, dear one. But that only makes the betrayal all the worse," Aslan said. "This may be harder than you think."
We were on the verge of leaving, having been excused by Aslan so he could speak privately with the eldest Pevensie. But our departure was interrupted when a centaur spoke up.
"Why is she here?" his voice dripped with disdain, leaving no room for doubt that they were pointing fingers at me.
A wave of objections swept through the crowd, aligning with the sentiments of that particular centaur.
Contemplating the situation, a realization dawned on me about who truly held the role of my mother in Narnia.
Yet, I clung stubbornly to denial.
“Silence!” Aslan commanded, mercifully stilling the surrounding voices.
“She is not the same as her, and you shall treat her with the same respect you showed the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve,” proclaimed the King of Narnia.
“But mistakes can happen. How can you be certain she isn’t following in her mother’s footsteps?” inquired Oreius, his tone still reverent.
"Because I trust in her decisions," Aslan replied, his gaze steady on me.
With that, Aslan dismissed us entirely, and Peter trailed after him, required for a private conversation.
Oreius then led us to our tents. This time, I'm sharing it with the girls, unlike back at the mansion, and I quite welcome it.
As we entered, neatly folded clean dresses and undergarments adorned each table beside our hammocks.
After freshening up and adorning ourselves in our newfound attire, the two Pevensie girls chose to linger by the tranquil lake, savoring the serenity of the surroundings. I, meanwhile, returned to the tent.
Clad in a long maroon dress that flowed gracefully to my ankles, with elegantly long sleeves and my hair styled in a half-up, half-down braid, I settled into my hammock.
Absentmindedly, my fingers traced the delicate snowflake pendant around my neck, a cherished keepsake amid the enchantment of Narnia.
In the midst of my introspection, thoughts of Edmund surfaced, his presence vivid in my memories—the banter, the sarcasm, and that ever-present frown that somehow held a peculiar charm.
"Snap out of it, Cora," I chided myself, momentarily lost in reminiscence.
Cora. My name, or perhaps, should I say Sera?
Lost in thought, I was suddenly jolted by the unmistakable call of the horn, its sound ringing with urgent significance.
"Oh no," I muttered, comprehending the impending significance of that solemn sound all too well.
