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 a while to keep her safe.
However, fate had a di...
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We pressed on, exploring the place we once cherished as home.
Edmund knelt before the rock, inspecting it closely, "Catapults."
"What?" Peter inquired.
Edmund examined the rock before turning with a shocked expression, "This just didn't happen. Cair Paravel was attacked," he declared, prompting frowns from all of us at the news.
It was indeed heart-wrenching; our former home lay in ruins, and our absence prevented us from intervening.
We fell into silence for a moment, processing the brunette boy's words before Peter strode away from us, noticing something.
He started clearing away the branches that covered the wall in front of him, aided by his brother, and together they shifted them aside, unveiling a wooden door.
Peter started to break the handle of the door, but it wouldn't budge, and I stopped him.
"Step aside," I said before forcefully kicking the wooden door. It fell, revealing a staircase in the darkness below.
Peter raised his brows at me, and I responded with an innocent smile, prompting a chuckle and a shake of his head. He then began tearing beneath his white blouse using a butter knife he picked up from the ground.
We observed him quietly, exchanging glances with Edmund, who appeared rather amused.
"Don't suppose you have any matches, do you?" the blonde Pevensie asked, wrapping his torn blouse around the thin wood he randomly found on the ground.
"No, but..." Ed started and began rummaging through his satchel bag, pulling out a silver flashlight. "Would this help?" he asked with a smug smile.
"You might have mentioned that a bit sooner," Peter remarked, a smile playing on his face.
Beside me, Edmund grinned before gently taking my hand. As he started down the stairs, our fingers intertwined, his other hand held the flashlight, illuminating our path.
As we descended the stairs, a glow emanated from each side of the golden chest, unmistakably ours, with our statues standing behind it.
"I can't believe it. It's all still here," Peter remarked before we dispersed from our positions and approached our respective chests. Edmund's and mine were positioned just beside each other.
Opening my chest revealed a collection of belongings accumulated during my time growing older in Narnia.
"I was so tall," Lucy remarked, holding up an adult-sized dress.
"Well, you were older then," Susan replied, followed by Edmund's voice.
"As opposed to hundreds of years later..." he began, an armor helmet twice the size of his head atop it. "When you're younger."
I giggled at the thought of how cute he was before redirecting my attention to my chest.
Suddenly, something caught my eye inside.
My necklace was the one I had yearned for over the years.
Picking it up, I examined it. The necklace was still the same as when Santa gifted it to me years ago.
"May I?" I heard Ed's voice, prompting me to turn around, the helmet still perched atop his head.
"Sure," I chuckled, handing him the necklace. I turned back, shifting my hair into a ponytail, and raising it to expose my neck to him.
As the necklace dangled around my neck, he fastened it, and suddenly, I felt his cold fingers slowly brushing against my skin, sending chills down my spine.
I then heard him clear his throat, prompting me to let my hair down and turn around to face him.
The necklace I had given him during our coronation caught my eye; it was around his neck.
As I whispered, "You still have it," my fingers brushed against the crystalline ice sword pendant, a simple gesture that spoke volumes. His reaction was subtle yet profound—a fleeting moment where his breath seemed to catch.
The moment our eyes met, a wave of unspoken emotions surged between us, creating an invisible bridge that neither of us dared to cross. In that charged silence, there was a tension that seemed to hum in the air, a palpable force pulling us together yet keeping us apart.
Edmund's gaze held a complexity that mirrored my conflicting feelings—a mix of longing, uncertainty, and a hint of something deeper that we both dared not acknowledge. His eyes, usually a mask of steadfast composure, betrayed a vulnerability, revealing a depth of emotion that lingered beneath the surface.
Our gaze abruptly severed as the youngest Pevensie's voice chimed in, "What is it?"
"My horn," Susan replied before adding, "I must have left it on my saddle the day we went back."
We stood there, witnessing Peter's approach to the golden chest. He opened it, retrieving the sword gifted by Santa.
"When Aslan bares his teeth, winter meets its death," he declared, his eyes fixed on the sword's gleaming blade.
"And when he shakes his mane..." Lucy continued, "We shall have spring again."
Our gazes met, sharing a poignant understanding. "Everyone we knew... Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers..." Lucy trailed off.
"All gone..." I softly completed her sentence, feeling a pang in my heart, realizing they had passed away without our goodbyes.
A heavy silence enveloped us as we grappled with the weight of it all, exchanging sorrowful glances. Peter finally shattered the quietude.
"I believe it's time we uncover what's truly happening," he asserted.
