Narnia: The Fallen Angel

17 || Breath of War

(Crystalline's POV)

Darkness. That was all I could see.

It was my only companion other than a skull splitting headache and horrible chills. Someone was dabbing a wet cloth over my forehead; which only made me feel colder than I already was and worsened my headache. I groaned, once another sharp pinch of pain went through my head. There was a surprised gasp, and the person aiding me left the proximity.

I didn't even bother trying to hear what they were saying since my groggy state prohibited me from attempting to wake up; if I am even sleeping. The sound of a tent flap and rushed footsteps came by me shortly after the aid left. "Crystalline, are you awake?" My father spoke. It seemed as if he was yelling, which was enough for me to groan as a response.

"You're awake!" Peter cut in, once again, sounding very loud. With my horrible condition, it was a high probability that I was going to punch them. Although I would have liked to, I settled on a snappy complaint. "Yes, I am bloody awake. Thank you for reminding me."

I heard my father chuckle and pat Peter on the shoulder. "She is awake and being her usual self." Father said, which made me peel my eyes open to see them. At first, it felt as if I was looking at the sun by how bright everything was; but once my vision cleared, I could see Peter and my father standing next to the cot. The nymph who was nursing me stood to the side organizing a tea.

Making the decision to sit up, I attempted to adjust myself only for my arms to fail on me. Both Peter and my father quickly jumped in and helped me into a sitting position. It was only then that I realized where I was. I looked around his tent, yearning to see him talking battle strategies with a general, resting, organizing his paper although he didn't have opposable thumbs; anything.

But he was nowhere in the tent. Even his ever warming presence was gone. It was cold and bitter in this room; the brilliant colors were dulled and the bright aura was darkened. The only lantern in this tent was the one above me, which explained the bright light that practically blinded me once I opened my eyes.

I held back the urge to cry once the nymph came back with a tea in hand. I murmured my thanks and took it from her gently, sipping it little by little. It was strange seeing my father and Peter standing there next to each other, as if they were expecting me to show them a magic trick. I didn't.

Instead, I continued to drink my tea quietly and let my thoughts wander. I was still trying to grasp why would Aslan do such a thing; why he would die when he knew very well that if I die fighting the White Witch then she will have won; she will defeat the prophecy. It was long since I have finished my tea and the nymph left. Maybe the endless tense silence was too much for her.

Finally fed up, I looked up at the two with a raised brow. "Is there something on my face? Do I have blue hair now?" I sarcastically asked them as I pulled my feet over the side of the bed. They both continued to look at me warily, almost as if they wanted to say something and didn't know how to say it. I knew what they wanted to say; Aslan is dead.

They were probably worried at how I was going to take it, but what they didn't know is that I already took the brunt of it. My emotions spiraled, and now that I have control of them, I have learned to hold most of them back. Still, they didn't say anything; only snuck glances back and forth between each other.

I scoffed, standing up shakily and grabbing my scabbard and crystal from the floor. I fought back memories of what happened recently as I faced them. "If you've come to tell me of what has happened to Aslan, then I already know; I saw it myself through a dream." I said while slipping on my boots which the nymph must've taken off of me.