The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era

The Hour of Doom

"No one hates better than us..."

But still... he hesitated.

"And you can... guarantee Miraz's death?"

The Hag bowed low to him.

"And more," she promised.

Against his better judgement, Caspian sheathed his sword.

A low thrum of magic began to sound in rhythm.

"Let the circle be drawn!" wheezed the Hag.

The Werewolf dragged his claw against the stone floor, circling Caspian as the Hag chanted.

It filled him with even more dread with each word she spoke.

At last, she withdrew an object from her cloak that made his blood run cold. He remembered well the stories that Margaret had told. He had clung to every word.

The wand of the White Witch, that Edmund had broken.

It had been made whole.

The Hag stabbed the wand into the stone stair before him, and ice crept along the columns, filling the archway, extinguishing the torches on either side. Moments later, the spectre of a woman appeared, and he knew.

"Wait... This isn't what I wanted!" he said, but even as he spoke, his mind grew heavy with a fog. The circle... He tried to move out of it, but the Werewolf took hold of him, forcing his arm out straight.

"One drop of Adam's blood... and you free me," she said. Her voice was exactly how Margaret had described. "Then I am yours... my king."

The Hag drew a knife from her cloak. Caspian tried to pull away, but the infernal Werewolf's hold was too strong, and the metal bit into his palm.

The Witch pushed her hand through the barrier, that small part of her allowed back to the world of the living, and as she crossed the threshold, the fog in Caspian's mind darkened, and he seemed to lose all his reason.

The Werewolf let go of him, but he did not move away.

There came a shout from behind him, and the faint clamor of battle resounded, but he paid it no mind.

The Witch, however, suddenly looked nervous.

"Come on," she urged, "Come..."

Suddenly, Caspian found himself shoved aside by Peter, who took his place in the circle.

"Get away from him!"

Caspian lay on the ground, wincing, willing that spell to flee from his mind. The sound of cracking ice brought him back to reality at last.

Slowly, he stood as the sheet of ice began to crumble. With an angry cry and an explosion of ice, the Witch was gone. Behind where she had been moments ago, Edmund stood, glaring at Peter.

"I know," he said bitterly. "You had it sorted."

He moved to the side, and the carved image of Aslan loomed over them, filling the chamber with a great feeling of disappointment.

Caspian hesitated, then looked to Peter.

"How did you know what was happening?" he asked.

Peter glanced at him, but it seemed that he was in no mood to start another fight.

"Lucy," he replied. "Before we left... Margaret told her what was going to happen. And... she warned her not to let Narnia fall to winter again. When we couldn't find you, Edmund suddenly recognized her Dark Magic in the air, and..."