( 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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The sudden awakening and the unexpected presence of a Dryad in the room caught me off guard.
"Be calm, my princess," she said. "I bring dire news from the Daughters of Eve." She paused briefly before continuing, "The King of Narnia has passed away," she declared, delivering a shocking revelation that left me utterly speechless.
"What?" I managed to whisper, my voice barely audible amid the stunned silence that followed the Dryad's announcement.
A chill ran through me as her words echoed in my mind. Suddenly, Aslan’s voice from last night came back to me—the gentleness, the weight, the strange finality I had sensed but dared not question.
It was as if he had already been preparing me for this moment, a quiet farewell hidden within his blessing.
Stepping out of the tent after changing from my nightwear, I immediately noticed the absence of the two girls who had shared the tent with me.
Oreius and the Pevensie boys gathered around a small table, atop which lay a map of Narnia. Sorrow and hopelessness etched their expressions as they deliberated.
As they became aware of my presence, their heads turned in my direction.
"Is it... true?" I asked, my voice faltering slightly with emotion.
They remained silent, merely nodding in confirmation. I hesitated for a moment before positioning myself beside the brunette Pevensie.
"You'll need to lead us now, Pete," Ed said to his brother, who seemed uncertain and hesitant.
"Peter, there's an army waiting out there, ready to follow you," Ed persisted, noticing his brother's wavering resolve.
"I can't," Peter responded.
"Aslan believed you could," I interjected, catching Peter's gaze.
"And so do we," Edmund added, emphasizing our trust in him. Peter glanced between us, particularly at his brother, with whom he hadn't shared a strong bond from the start, yet seemed to find belief in his words.
"The Witch's army is approaching, sire," Oreius declared, prompting the question, "What are your orders?"
Peter’s eyes lingered on the map for only a moment before he finally began to outline his plan.
Once the plan was agreed upon, we parted ways to put on our armor, readying ourselves for the battle ahead.
Struggling with the unexpectedly heavy armor, I managed to tie my white locks, which fell to my shoulders, into a French braid.
"Hey," I responded, trying to hide my nerves with a chuckle as Edmund's voice startled me a bit.
"Hey," he greeted back, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Be careful out there, alright?" he expressed, his concern evident, prompting a smile from me in response.
"You too, wouldn't want you dying in battle," I joked lightly, trying to lift the mood with a low chuckle.
"I won't," he assured with a slight smug smile.
"You better not, Pevensie," I replied, my tone more serious this time. I began walking, Edmund following as we headed towards the position Peter had assigned us, atop the hill, while he and Oreius took the front lines.
In silent anticipation, we stood together, our feelings unspoken. Each of us carried our own nervous thoughts, imagining what might come in the battle ahead. Words were unnecessary as our minds lingered on the dangers and outcomes we might soon face.
In the distance, we could see Jadis and her allies, standing poised and waiting for the signal that would begin the battle.
From my position at the front line, I observed Peter glancing back at his brother and me. He nodded in our direction before facing forward once more, drawing his sword and raising it high into the air.
The Narnians cheered, their voices trembling with both courage and fear. In the distance, I saw Jadis’ allies begin their advance.
“Here we go,” I whispered, my words nearly lost in the rising tension.
As I observed, Edmund unsheathed his sword, and a tingling sensation sparked in my right hand. Glancing down, I saw the crystal ice sword forming, snowflakes swirling around it in a delicate dance.
Above us, a griffin swooped into Jadis’ ranks, its wings cutting through the sky. Edmund raised his sword high, pointing it toward the enemy.
Peter’s plan began to take shape as the griffin released a boulder upon the foe. I silently prayed to Aslan that his strategy would hold until the battle’s end.
Peter swiftly rode out, mounted on a white steed, with Oreius steadfast at his side. Behind them, the Narnians surged forward, charging into battle, while we remained on the hill, watching the scene unfold below.
As steel met steel and cries rang out, time itself seemed to slow, each moment stretching as Jadis’ forces clashed with the brave Narnians.
Though every fiber of me ached to rush down and join the fight, I held fast to Peter’s orders, knowing the success of our plan depended on discipline and trust in his strategy.
My eyes stayed fixed on the battlefield, yet a faint, distant roar echoed in the back of my mind. At first, I dismissed it as a trick of my imagination, but then a sudden chill coursed down my spine, making me shudder as I tried to shake it off and regain my focus.
Returning my attention to the clash below, I caught sight of Edmund with his sword raised high. His voice rang with command as he called to a centaur, bow drawn and arrow ready.
“Fire!”
The arrow struck true, and in an instant, the Phoenix erupted into brilliant flames. With a piercing cry, the fiery creature soared above the battlefield before diving into the fray, its blazing wings igniting a fire at the very heart of the conflict.
Edmund and I exchanged glances, smiles forming on our faces, witnessing the success of Peter's plan once more.
However, our fleeting celebration was abruptly interrupted when the polar bears ridden by Jadis intervened, extinguishing the fire and clearing a path toward the Narnians.
From a distance, we observed Peter and the other Narnians beginning a retreat.
Without delay, Edmund, the beaver, and I swiftly descended the hill, catching sight of our signal, and moved to another position in anticipation of Peter and the Narnians' arrival.
Adhering to our strategy, Edmund stayed atop the hill, overseeing the battle, while I joined the Narnians below, poised to charge against the enemy. Though he had protested Peter’s plan at first, Edmund had at last yielded, entrusting his brother’s judgment despite the risks it carried.
In the blink of an eye, two Minotaurs came thundering toward me. Without a moment's thought, I swiftly slid beneath them as they brandished their hefty axes, seizing the opportunity to thrust my weapon through one of their chests as I regained my footing.
It was rather surprising to find I possessed such an ability, yet with all the uncertainties that Narnia already carried, I chose not to question it further.
As one Minotaur lay defeated, the second one paused for a moment, locking eyes with me before resuming its charge.
With a smug smile, I deftly slashed my sword through his chest, relishing the victorious moment.
