It was well into the afternoon now, the sun slowly sinking towards the western horizon where it will surely set below the blanketing night skies as it did every day. The company travelling behind Raven was now overjoyed, freely chattering amongst themselves in lightheartedness. They were glad to finally come across their Kings and Queens of Old, finding their sudden appearance to be a blessing from Aslan over their journey to the How. Many would come up and talk to their rulers, asking numerous questions of how Narnia used to be or how their world was. Lucy found no issue in answering all they asked, seeing it as mere curiosity rather than them trying to see how could their rulers leave them.
Susan and Edmund noticed this and chose to step ahead, only talking to each other behind Peter and Caspian. The High King and the Prince engaged in forced conversations, all of which were nothing short of subtle competition between them. It was an endless verbal war consisting of indirect jabs towards each other and it would often end with Trufflehunter stepping in and continuing with another conversation. It was a futile attempt to getting the two monarchs to be somewhat placid towards one another, and when Trufflehunter finally walked away in defeat, they were submerged in a long silence. They continued to stare ahead where Raven was walking alone, silently leading the company from a distance without bothering to look back to anyone.
For Caspian, he found it to be odd, since she always made sure to see if the company was still huddled close and on pace with her long strides. She was always keeping an eye on them, but she had not done so once throughout the duration of the trek. Raven also hadn’t stopped for a midday respite, forcing everyone to eat while walking. There was no explanation, nor did anyone dare to ask for one. Her presence was terrifying and always thick with an unspoken anger that reverberated off her in waves. The Dark Angel was like an untamed beast; a lone wolf with a dragon’s pelt for fur and cold eyes as frigid as a northern blizzard.
“Who is she?” Peter asked Caspian after a long and tense silence. Caspian turned to Peter, his eyebrow raising in shock. Noticing his surprise, Peter quickly corrected himself. “I know what she is, but who is she?”
“Her name is Raven,” Caspian replied, his eyes averting away from Peter and back to Raven. “Of Calormen, if my memory is correct.”
“What an odd name for a Lady,” Peter jested, a grin itching at his lips when Caspian’s face withered altogether at his words. “Try not to call her that. I was nearly beheaded for addressing her as Lady Raven,” Caspian warned him, shuddering slightly at the memory of her whipping out her sword and uttering one of the first threats she has given him. Caspian can no longer remember talking to her and nearly facing death amid a conversation. Peter couldn’t hold back a light chuckle, giving Caspian a sense of relief over the fact that he managed to make the High King laugh, albeit for an embarrassing moment. “Why are you afraid of her?” Peter asked the prince once more, his light cerulean eyes glittering in amusement.
“Why are you not?” Caspian countered, his amber eyes crashing against Peter’s with an underlying emotion of fear. Peter shrugged, looking at the hooded girl walking a good distance ahead with her bow in hand and sword sheathed. Raven walked stiffly, her movements matching with the firm and lifelessness of the trees around her. Her hood didn’t ruffle as the wind blew, and nor did she make a sound as she walked. Peter could see why Caspian and the others would be afraid of her. Her physical body seemed intangible compared to her overpowering aura that left an uncomfortable shiver down anyone’s spine and significantly darkened all that surrounded them. Raven was like the dead among the living, floating through the forests as a ghost.
Almost as if Raven felt his eyes on her, she craned her head slightly to meet the intrusive gaze of the High King. Peter was stunned to see a vaguely familiar pair of dull blue-green eyes bear into his, encasing him in an uncomfortable heat that he had never felt before. It wormed its way from his stomach to the rest of his body, almost as if her piercing gaze igniting a scorching flame inside him. As much as his bones cried out for him to tear his eyes from her, he couldn’t and almost didn’t want to.
Raven on the other hand, was battling to gain back control of herself and turn forward, but the voices were relentless. They were screaming in her mind, pounding on her skull as she drowned in his stare. Raven was sure that she wasn’t breathing, but her chest rose and fell steadily, and the sweet aroma of nature continued to waft into her nose. She knew him, she knew of the love she shared with him as Crystalline. Yet it felt foreign, as if she watched him and herself fall for each other rather than feeling it. Raven knew the siblings, but did not feel for them as she once did. She wondered if she would ever feel anything for that matter.
As that disturbing thought wormed into her mind, she finally managed to tear her gaze away from Peter, feeling the screaming voices in her mind subside into a buzzing murmur as it was before. Raven’s steps fastened, forcing the company behind her to stop their conversation and focus on reaching the How on time. After two more strenuous hours of trudging through the Shuddering Woods, Raven finally broke through the forest-line, her eyes training on the familiar sight of Aslan’s How. Without stopping to let the Pevensies admire the tomb built for Aslan, Raven strode through the glade and straight towards the small structure that used to house her as a statue.
It stood a significant number of meters away from the entrance of the How, the roof torn off and the marble rock scattered along the ground. Raven paused for a moment when she stepped onto the marble floor of her old prison, eyeing the broken carving of her wings in the carnage of the fallen stone. Raven remembered the day a dwarf attempted to awaken her from stone, only succeeding in stripping her of the honor of an angel. It wasn’t such an impact for Raven, it was only a public display of what she lost to blind rage and disobedience.
The sight of the centaurs riding out of the entrance of the How shook Raven from her long daze, and before the Pevensies could catch up to her, she rushed inside the How just as some Narnians rushed out to greet them. Raven was pleased to see the burley Narnians put the Telmarine weapons to work, creating furnaces and stations where the blacksmiths further improved the dull blades and other forms of weapons. She meandered around, finding a makeshift arsenal further in the How where they placed the furnished weaponry and armor.
When she stepped out, she looked to her left where there was an ominous hall that Raven knew would lead to the Stone Table, remembering the sight of the Narnians built it behind her stone-self. Raven took a torch from the wall, stepping forward to go down the eerie path. As she walked on, the sounds of the bustling Narnians faded into muted echoes, and the voices in her mind were drowned out by the silencing air of Aslan’s How. She felt almost at peace, like she did when Aslan sent the voices to rest the day before. Her mind was light once more, and Raven was free to pick at the itch of her curiosity without the constant nagging in her thoughts.
As Raven moved her torch, she saw a flicker of color on the wall. She quickly brought it back, her eyes widening in wonder at the sight of a painting of a red-scarfed faun next to a lamp post. Mr. Tumnus, she mused to herself morosely as she ventured slower this time, her eyes trailing all along the painting until she came across one of her own. Raven was stunned to see her painted wearing a white dress and dancing among a group of Narnians. It was the celebration in the camp of Beruna, where she danced endlessly throughout the night with great company. She recollected the lively music and the enchanting buzzing sensation that came with the catchy tune.
A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips when the distant memory of her dancing with Peter on the hilltop came to mind, giving Raven a bittersweet churn in her stomach when she realized that she couldn’t feel herself in the memories as others could. Raven’s mind was filled with memories that she felt wasn’t hers. It was Crystalline’s. Crystalline was the one who danced among her people, and engaged in war with them. Crystalline sacrificed her life for Peter, and her safety for Lucy. Crystalline was their counsel, their friend, not Raven.
Raven was sinking in her somber thoughts, taking her mind away from Narnia for a few moments as she stared at the redhead painted on the wall. Yet, her senses were on high alert, and before Raven could blink, she whirled around to face the intruder she heard shuffling near. With the torch as Raven’s source of light, she was able to distinctly see Susan standing before her with an arrow notched in her bow. “Who are you?” Susan growled, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she tried to pin point the hooded stranger. Raven raised an unseen brow and let out a chuckle at the Queen’s attempt of threatening her, swiftly raising her hand to pull back her hood. “If you think you can try to shoot me with another arrow, then you’re wrong,” Raven mused, reaching into her cloak to reveal one of Susan’s arrows.
Susan significantly paled, her eyes flashing with fear as she quickly lowered her bow. She tried to stutter out an apology, something she chastised herself for since she was indeed a Queen and queens don’t stutter, but her eyes couldn’t peel away from the uncovered face of the Dark Angel. Raven’s dark hair framed and paled her porcelain skin, and her face held a deceiving perception of a young and innocent girl with supple features and vibrant lips. Yet her eyes betrayed her face, shining with an uncountable age behind the veils of blue-green irises that vaguely reminded Susan of an old friend from long ago. When Susan realized that she was rudely staring at the Dark Angel, she quickly averted her gaze and said another apology, managing to do it smoothly this time.
“It is alright, your highness,” Raven said, her sudden threatening demeanor settling into a tense one. Raven was uncomfortable in the company of Susan, for her incessant fear of the Dark Angel shrouded any sort of calm attitude she wanted to portray. She had clearly frightened the Queen on the bank the other day, and seeing as they would be around each other more, she wanted to stop scaring her. Susan forced a small smile, her brilliant blue eyes trailing to the painting of Crystalline that Raven was just admiring. Fear left her eyes, and a veil of sorrow overcast her features as she stepped towards the painting. Not wishing to be in her way, Raven stepped aside and watched Susan.
Susan stood quietly, her eyes far off as old memories resurfaced. Though she wasn’t as close to Crystalline as her other siblings were, she still held great respect for the angel who willingly sacrificed her life for her brother. Susan was sure that Crystalline was more than just an angel doing what she was prophesied to do, she was a dear companion to them all and a lover to one. Her heart ached at the thought of Crystalline, and before Susan could allow herself to cry, she averted her gaze to another painting along the walls, seeing a few of the battles painted there. Letting out a gasp of surprise, Susan turned to face the still Raven who stood a respectful distance away.
“I must bring the others to see this!” She said before running back down the way she came, leaving Raven to her whirling thoughts once more. Raven went on to looking at the rest of the paintings, her thoughts drifting to the time she lived in Calormen and all everyone talked about was the royal siblings of Narnia. She remembered the scandal regarding Susan and the blasted prince, which nearly led Raven to insanity when they attempted to attack Narnia. Raven knew Susan was well sought after, since her beauty is one of the rarest, but she never expected it to go to the extent of war. She then remembered the recurring news of Peter courting yet another female, whether from Archenland or Telmar or anywhere else. Her lack of love for Peter helped Raven not think twice of it, for the High King had every right to indulge himself with any means necessary; at least that’s what she told herself.
In a matter of a few minutes, the others came rushing through, bringing Caspian along with them to see the paintings along the walls. The other three Pevensies were quick to get over the initial shock of seeing Raven’s face for the first time, and were further stunned to see all the paintings that littered the walls of the How. “It’s us,” Lucy exclaimed in surprise, her eyes scanning every painting until it fell upon the one of Crystalline. She visibly stiffened, something only Raven caught, and quickly moved to be next to Susan. It disheartened Raven to see the frown on Lucy’s face, but what struck her was the sight of Peter freezing in front of the painting.
Suddenly, the air grew thick as the siblings eyed the High King nervously, wondering what his reaction was going to be. Much to their surprise, he did nothing. Peter simply stayed firmly planted in his spot, his eyes never swaying away from the painting. When he moved, it was just his arm, and he reached to the work of art almost longingly as his forefinger traced it. His shoulders visibly slumped, almost as if a new weight fell upon him when he looked at the painting. Peter at long last moved away, grasping the torch Raven given to him more tightly as his eyes quickly met hers.
Raven was shocked to see the storm of anguish behind his kind eyes, more so when he directed a question right to her. “What is this place?” He asked Raven, who was still trying to compose herself of the initial shock she went through moments before. Refraining from speaking, she simply chose to step forward and grab his wrist, leading him further into the How with the others following silently. It took everything in Raven to refrain from holding his hand, finding that to be an intimate action rather than plutonic. He harbored no feelings for the Dark Angel, and she had it all taken away from her for life. There was no blossoming romance between them, so why was she pestering over the significance of hand-holding?
As they neared the Stone Table, Raven felt a hot shive bite on her spine, only growing more when they finally reached it. She could feel the sweat pooling on her hairline as she stepped away from Peter to grab the torch Caspian had and went to a small basin of oil. She lowered the torch, letting it kiss the oil and ignite a flame that traveled along the wall. The sudden burst of light revealed the work of the Narnians of Old, tall pillars towering upwards to hold the structure over the treasured monument for all Narnians. There were carvings in between the pillars, and even along the channel of oil that was presently licking with blazes.
This was Raven's first time seeing the magnificent craftsmanship carved into the wall, depicting minotaurs, centaurs, fauns, and many other creatures of Narnia. What surprised her most was the carving directly into the two main pillars of the Stone Table, depicting two angels carrying the thick slab of stone up. She could tell they were new, for those carvings never graced the aged stone when she would fly over it long ago. When Raven made her way to near the Pevensies who stood in shock at the sight of the Stone Table, she was met with a sweltering heat that coated her skin, making Raven take a quick step back in surprise. She felt some imaginary veil over her waning in weakness, and when she looked to her hair draped over her shoulder, she could see it flicker from brown to red.
This room is enchanted, Raven hissed to herself and recoiled further away from the Stone Table, not wanting to risk exposure of herself to the Pevensies. Aslan’s warning was clear, and Raven knew better than to ignore it like the rule he told her to follow long ago. Her eyes trained on Lucy who slowly stepped up to the cracked slab of rock where Aslan laid that frightful night. Raven winced slightly, the old memory twisting her chest uncomfortably when it replayed in her thoughts. Lucy quickly turned around to assess her siblings, offering a comforting expression as she noticed Raven’s wary gaze. “He must know what he’s doing,” she said to her siblings.
Raven expected for them to agree, but all Lucy got in response was silence from the siblings who maintained their gaze on the carving of Aslan placed perfectly between the two main pillars of the Stone Table, as other carvings of creatures followed to the left and right of the Great Lion. When Raven was sure that none would answer, Peter spoke, and out came words Raven never expected he would ever say. “I think it’s up to us now.”
Suddenly overcome with deep sadness over his words, Raven left the Stone Table as silently as she came.
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ANOTHER LITTLE CHAPTER FOR YOU GUYS.
I am slowly revealing little easter eggs for what's to come, and I can't wait for your reactions once I'm further along with this book!
Quick question: would you want spin-offs for the series? It's been on my mind for a while.
Tell me what you think below.
Xx