Will Briar begin a new era of witches, or will history repeat itself? Either way, Edmund won't be tricked twice.
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"If I perish, I perish. You can take my life, but you can't take my will." In which a girl born of Narnia's two greatest adversaries...
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Edited: 10/18/2024
She was drowning again.
The further she ran, she less she could hold back her tears. They blurred her sight, making her stumble blindly through the trees. Every part of her body felt numb down to her bones, like she was trapped under a frozen pond. Every breath slowly tore apart her lungs. Heat burned her eyes, but she had to keep going.
Only when her vision went black did she finally give in and collapse.
Breathing heavily, she leaned back against the trunk of a tree. Her wet clothes clung to her skin and her hair was still dripping wet. As she sank to the ground, her knees shook. Her muscles began to lock up.
Black dots coated her sight. It soaked into her lungs and filled her throat. Fear pumped through her veins. Shaking, she pressed a hand against her chest. She rubbed her heart, searching for its presence. It pounded against her palm. I'm still here, I'm still here. I'm in the woods. Briar shut her eyes, rubbing her arms, desperate for the friction.
When the world stopped spinning, Briar forced open her eyes and found that not in the woods. She was in a pit.
* * *
Torchlight blazed down from above, reflecting off of the faces of countless creatures. In the distance, Briar heard a bell. It rang through the treetops with a deep, haunting moan. Snow began to fall. The white flakes gently powdered her hair. Then, it grew into a cold torrent, an icy whip that slashed at the air. It muffled the cries. The torchlight went out. The blizzard roared until there was nothing left.
There was only Briar, standing in an empty field of white. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, every sound swallowed by the blanket of snow. Shadows seemed to stretch and twist in the dim light, making the field feel like a forgotten realm where time itself had frozen.
A figure rose in the distance. It came closer. Briar squinted, taking a step forward. Eventually, she was able to make out a woman with pale skin and piercing blue eyes. Her white hair rippled behind her. The woman smiled at her and opened her arms to Briar.
Welcome home.
* * *
When the sunlight dappled her cheeks, Briar didn't feel like she deserved the warmth. It thawed her face, then the rest of her. She wasn't exactly sure when she'd fallen asleep, or if she'd actually passed out. All she knew was that her first thought was please, let that have been a dream. She could be back in her bed in the castle, where her only problem was that of marrying Prince Hondor.
But the sun did not caress her face in Telmar. It didn't warm her down to her bones. No, she was still in Narnia.
Life was almost bad enough to make her wish that she was back in the castle. Almost. Briar wiped the grime from her face. Sitting up, she evaluated her surroundings. The woods idly chattered around her, lazily waking up from her own sleep. Clearly, she'd just collapsed under a fall tree and passed out.
