It was odd that the snow crunching beneath Raven's feet did not freeze off her toes by now. In fact, the snow didn't feel cold against her skin. What was more alarming was that Raven was following the trail of snow out of the safety of her temporary recovery room in the How. She never felt so afraid to step out of her comfort zone, nor has she ever followed an ominous trail into the hallway of what is supposed to be Aslan's tomb. Yet, Raven did so anyway.
Why? Perhaps it was curiosity, the very same curiosity that always manages to land her in unpleasant situations as Crystalline and Raven. It was as if her brain was hardwired for stupid decisions that she knew very well could be dealt with differently if she simply thought hard enough. Or perhaps it is the fact that Tash holds a metaphorical sword against Raven's jugular and is ordering her to make a decision that she isn't prepared to make.
Yet she still continues to step forward, hearing the suddenly loud crunching of the snow beneath her feet. One step after the other, she told herself. Somehow that managed to comfort Raven enough to keep her heart from bursting with anxiety. Her eyes darted from the trail to the dark hallway ahead, wondering if in this dream Tash was nice enough to give her a torch to at least see her doom.
Raven reached the entry to the hallway, unfortunately greeted by pitch black darkness both ways. The angel huffed, her fear bubbling into annoyance quickly enough to make her stomp back into the room and grab a torch off the wall. Enough with his ridiculous games, she sneered to herself before going back to the entrance. Raven peered into the hallway once again, looking at both directions to see the same darkness. Raven knew which direction was which, left leading deeper into the How and right leading outwards. She didn't want to look down at the ground to see where the ice would lead, hoping that perhaps she could walk her own path out of the labyrinth of Tash's test.
So Raven took a tentative step out onto the hall, eyeing the path that led to the outside and hopefully to her wake. She lifted her leg and stepped right, only to hit a magical force. Raven jumped back, her eyes widening in confusion as she tried to extend her arm to the right and hit the same force field. She found herself looking down unintentionally, not so surprised when the trail of ice led to the left. Towards the Stone Table... There was an unsettling sensation that grew in her stomach at the thought of going back to the very place that jeopardized her disguise every time she goes there.
Yet, Raven did not have a choice. No matter how many times she tried to forcefully shove her body to the right, the invisible wall stayed put and strong. Eventually, she whirled around to face the darkness of the hall where the trail led her. Raven knew full well that she won't be able to go the direction she wants to go. This was Tash's path chosen out for her, and it only terrified her the more she thought about why he would choose that specific path. The deity knows where it led, and he knew the effect it had on her. Perhaps that's the reason? She asked herself.
'Choose...'
His voice echoed down the hall, only adding to her argument as to why she should just stay in her temporary room. Raven turned back to enter her room, finding yet another invisible wall keeping her from entering. "Gah!" She huffed, punching the magical force field with her free hand. There was no escape now. Raven had to follow the trail, she had to go left. Would she regret this? Completely, but she doesn't have a choice. Begrudgingly, Raven put one foot in front of the other, forcing herself to count random numbers to distract her mind enough so that she wouldn't think about what may be before her.
Death? Raven greets death like an old friend. Torture? Visions and Voices were enough to make her highly tolerant. What else could Tash use on her? What trick did he have up his sleeve? The random numbers she said to herself proved to be futile since questions had managed to successfully fill her mind and every thought. So she let it consume her and drive her mad as the voices once did before they disappeared. Even though she constantly claimed that the voices in her head were nothing but a nuisance, a small part of her missed them.
Raven missed how they manipulated her anger the second her eyes fell on a Telmarine. She missed the rush of adrenaline and power they gave her every time she killed an opponent. The constant buzzing in her mind that drove her mad, the painful visions of their deaths... she missed it all. Raven wanted the bloodthirst to consume her every nerve as it once did, and for the tightened leash on her destructive nature. Raven craved insanity and all of the chaos that comes with it.
Why? She doesn't know. Perhaps the 1300 years of punishment has finally caught up to her, or the fact that she was completely and utterly alone this time in the prison of her mind. Maybe it was the unwarranted arrival of her past lover and the rise of her old soul that came with it. Or, Raven needs some sort of justification of her current actions. Running into the hands of an evil deity set out for total domination, condemned to his form of torture, and now being forced to play his little game of 'flip the coin and I will still decide for you anyway' doesn't exactly offer up any other explanation.
Raven felt her free hand clench up into a fist. She didn't want to be bending to the will of a deity madder than her. Tash only has the power of his devoted followers, Raven has the power of the dead bestowed unto her by Aslan as a meager form of punishment. Indeed it was a punishment for her unforgivable crime, but a punishment that came with plenty of advantages. One of which I need right now, Raven grumbled to herself as she continued the long and dreary walk down a dark hallway.
The ice had become numb under her feet, and barely made a sound against the slowly footfalls of Raven. The Dark Angel looked straight ahead, unwilling to look down at the ice that reminded her of haunting memories. She did not wish to dwell on such terrors, but the cold that was still traveling up her spine lingered taunted such thoughts to arise. A sinister grin... a bloodied sword... a fiery pain... His tearful eyes...
Raven shook those poisonous thoughts away before it could settle, focusing on the never ending path before her. For some reason, she has been walking down the hallway for far longer that normal. Raven knew that she would've reached the Stone Table by now, so why hadn't she?
"I am worried, Lucy..."
Raven looked to a spontaneous opening on her left which looked familiar to the entrance to the Archives room. Susan was seated at the wooden table cluttered up with piles of books Lucy has read for Raven. Neither of them noticed her presence, even as she walked right in front of Susan's line of sight. The Gentle Queen's eyes were weary and tired, the weight of guilt that burdened her soul as much as her slumped shoulders.
"Both Peter and Caspian have behaved like foolish children, and now it has costed the valuable lives of our people," Susan huffed quietly. At this moment, Susan did not look like she was playing Queen. She was a distraught sister, worrying over the condition of Peter and her people. Lucy looked up from the book she was reading, her kind eyes falling onto her older sister with the same weariness. "You can't blame them. They're both trying to prove their worth to people who already look up to them as it is," Lucy explained.
"If they both come to accept the fact that they are what is limiting them from the real power, perhaps we will have a greater advantage."
Susan fiddled with the book in her hands. "For the sake of Narnia, I hope you are correct. There is nothing else we can truly depend on anymore."
"There's Raven." Lucy quickly interjected.
Susan raised a brow at her little sister. "The Raven who is currently more dead than alive."
This time, Lucy stayed quiet. The small frame of the young queen visibly deflated after her sister's harsh words. As much as she wished that Susan could be wrong for once, she knew that her sister was correct. Raven is under some torturous spell of a sort, and because of it the faith of victory is diminishing from the Narnian people. The Dark Angel has been compromised by the very power she was said to defeat. The Valiant queen then looked down at her lap, eyeing the spine of the book that constantly made her feel as if she found only half of the image. The Tale of Crystalline. Then she looked at the thin scroll that rested above a messy pile of books, knowing very well that another piece of the puzzle was tucked in its delicate roll. The Dark Angel.
Raven watched Lucy begin to flip the pages over of the book, her eyes itching to catch anything that could be of importance. She sat next to Lucy as the girl dug through it, almost feeling pity for her. At least that was what she thought it was. It was a terrible sensation that tugged on the corners of her eyes and tightened around her chest. The feeling made her want to hug little Lucy simply because her dainty fingers were riddled with paper cuts and her brilliant doe eyes were sullen with tiredness. Lucy was desperate to find anything to help Raven, even if it tore open old wounds doing so.
Raven was hugging Lucy before she could stop herself. It was a small and tender hug, one that Raven didn't know could come out of her. She didn't even understand why she was hugging Lucy in the first place, but she continued to do so. There was a sense of peace that radiated from Lucy, and just by one touch anyone could feel it. Raven was getting a hugs worth of it, and smiled.
The pages stopped flipping.
The peace broke.
Raven pulled away, seeing the tearful eyes of Lucy that stared down at a page before her. In confusion, Raven looked down at the page herself, seeing that it was one of the last few near the end. It was after her death at the Battle of Beruna, the generosity of the druids and nymphs who created a casket for the fallen Angel. The sympathetic centaurs sewed a brilliant white dress from the hair strands of fallen unicorns, in respect for the centaurs Anatre and Oreius who raised the Angel. Then the mourning gryphons who volunteered to carry her over mountains and valleys, and to Cair Paravel where she would be put to rest.
Lucy then flipped the page and let out a long sigh. "However, the Fallen Angel would never rest in peace. Her glimmering burial sight was broken into and emptied entirely, not even leaving her body. It was a disgrace and an act of treason against Narnia. No one knew who could do such a heinous act, but many began to speculate and soon enough a search for foul and heartless thieves all across the nations began. The remains of Crystalline was never found, nor any of her treasures..."
Susan stayed silent, her eyes firmly set on the ground and her mouth clamped shut. Lucy allowed her tears to continue to fall as old memories came to mind. She remembered the blazing anger that rippled through her brother's eyes and reflected the same heartbreaking pain. There was chaos amongst the royal monarchs, who were desperately trying to sew themselves together for the sake of their new country. It was bad enough that children were selected to rule, but children who couldn't keep their heads leveled?
Lucy shook her head, ridding herself of such dark thoughts before one bubbled up to the surface. She remembered the coronation, most of it vaguely, but one thing in particular never escaped her. It was the balcony, overlooking the Eastern Sea and the white beaches below. Aslan was walking along the shoreline, away from the festivities and Cair Paravel. He was leaving... but not alone. A hooded figure walked alongside him, a stocked horse within grasp. Lucy remembered watching Aslan disappear out of thin air and the hooded figure mounted, alone.
The red hair...
Almost as if electricity shot up her spine, Lucy jumped forward and grasped the scroll tightly. She unraveled it, unimportant words flying off the page. Raven watched as the wheels in Lucy's mind went haywire, spinning ridiculously fast until it came to a screeching halt. Raven peered over the little girl's shoulder, reading the words that left Lucy paralyzed. Not much is known of the Dark Angel. She came from Calormen, bearing weaponry unlike any other. The Dark Angel came in Narnia's time of need, and turned into stone. Upon the summoning of Queen Susan's horn, she shall rise once again to complete her duty. The Telmarines will be purged by her blade...
Then there was a drawing. Everything was incredibly detailed to the point that it was lifelike. It was the Dark Angel's blade in all of its terrifying glory. Midnight black, not even light could reflect on it. Thin as paper, and harder than any stone. Indeed it was the Dark Angel's sword, that was what Lucy confirmed. But upon closer inspection, she realized that there was something alarmingly familiar. It too, was Crystalline's sword.
Lucy bolted up from her chair, and almost as if Raven was tethered to her, she was pulled out of the room with Lucy. She could hear Susan call out for Lucy, and follow her down the black hall where Raven came from. Raven wondered what clicked in Lucy's mind, but she couldn't dwell on her any longer. Further ahead, she heard two familiar voices debating hotly. So she once again followed the path of snow that led her further from the Archives and deeper into the How. At least, that is how Tash is making it seem.
Surely enough, she found herself in another small room where two beds were pushed up against opposite walls. On each bed sat Peter and Edmund. Peter was bent over, his elbows propped up on his knees and his hands cradling his head. Edmund was lying back, tossing up a small rock he found outside. Both were lost in their thoughts, more so Peter than Edmund. He was just sticking around to make sure Peter wouldn't do something stupid as he moped.
Peter let out a pitiful groan. "It's all my fault, isn't it?"
Edmund shrugged, tossing his stone up again before catching it. "Caspian shares the blame as well."
"Yes," Peter sighed, looking up at his brother. "But it was my plan, he just ruined it with his personal vendetta."
Edmund caught his slight bitterness at the end, his eyes casting a knowing glance. "He did warn you about the castle, did he not?"
Peter frowned at Edmund. "You supported my plan."
Edmund quickly sat up, throwing his leg over the side of his bed so that he faced his brother. "No, I supported your cause. I believed that we needed something else other than the How, because then we would've been sitting ducks," Edmund explained, tossing up the stone.
"Attacking the castle, however," He caught the stone and pointed at Peter with it.
"That was all you."
Peter didn't argue that, knowing fully well that his brother was indeed right. He did voice that staying in the How was a bad idea, which proved his point that he supported his cause that the Narnians needed to leave.
"How come you didn't stop me? Or propose another plan?" Peter asked.
Edmund flashed him a smirk, his brown eyes glimmering humorously at the thought of that day. "I was too busy relishing the sight of Raven stealing your crown."
Peter didn't reply to that, only rolling his eyes and deciding to move to the other side of the room where his scabbard laid. Edmund's joking manner dropped shortly after, noticing his brother's sullen mood increase at the mention of Raven. Peter didn't have to say that he blamed himself for Raven's current condition, his pale face and slouched posture says it all for him. All of his siblings have tried to talk some sense into him, but it hasn't wavered. Peter still blames himself for Crystalline's death, how will they stop him from blaming himself for Raven?
Edmund watched him from his peripheral, maintaining his nonchalant attitude while Peter paces. "Have you considered apologizing?" He asked Peter.
Peter nodded. "I just don't think she heard it."
"I'm not talking about Raven."
Peter stopped pacing, his eyes steeling against his brother. "I don't think I need to."
"Yes you need to, for the sake of our people," Edmund scoffed. "Right now, they are looking up at their leaders for guidance. That points to you and Caspian-"
"-You are forgetting yourself and our dear sisters-"
"-Yes I am because you are the High King and Caspian is the soon-to-be," Edmund snapped.
"You both are the most important because you are the heads whether you want to admit it or not. They want to know that their leaders are stable enough to lean on, especially after what happened. Showing that we are separated is just going to bring Narnia back down to its knees, this time for good."
Raven felt a growing sense of pride as she heard Edmund speak. He was no longer the petulant child she met so long ago in the white Shuddering Woods. Edmund was an aged king within his teenage appearance, and his words still as swift and strong as it was rumored to be long ago. No wonder he was always the one conducting trials and foreign affairs.
She waited to hear Peter's reply, but it never came. The earth beneath her feet began to shake, and as Raven clamored to grab onto anything she realized that neither of the boys are reacting. The room was literally falling apart, and Peter only went up to Edmund and placed a firm grasp on his shoulder in thanks, not for stability. Then, Peter left the room, and soon the room left her.
Raven was alone in the darkness as the cold ground beneath her tremored viciously, rendering her onto her hands and knees. The torch seemingly disappeared with Peter's and Edmund's room, leaving her to blindly grasp out for anything before her. Raven didn't understand what was happening. Did she do something wrong? She couldn't have. Raven followed the path Tash set out for her, albeit against her will, and continued.
Then the ground stopped shaking and hissing, whispering, and cries erupting all around her. A sense of relief would've ran down her spine if it weren't for the fear that had already taken its place. These sounds weren't familiar. They didn't come from within her head like the voices did. They were outside, real and loud like Lucy and the others were. It was in front of her, only a few meters away. Raven began to crawl toward the voices, slowly being able to decipher that it was actually one powerful voice uttering unrecognizable words. Then, as if someone switched on a light, Raven could see.
She was in the room of the Stone Table, pressed up against the stone monument. Raven forced herself onto her feet finding her body much weaker than before. Her vision was blurred, her feet sluggish, but her mind was buzzing. She wanted to be able to identify the four figures before her, two of which that circled one as the other stood off to the side. Raven felt as if she was reliving something, something terrible. For some reason, it couldn't come to mind no matter how hard she thought of it.
"Hárlak orlü set örd élias të atél múrlej..."
A pain erupted within Raven's chest, causing her to cry out and whither back to the ground. The words felt like pins pricking up her limbs and painfully numbing them. Yet, she forced herself back onto her knees, using the Stone Table next to her as support. Raven focused on her vision, fighting to be able to see what is happening before her. Her sight would strengthen then grow worse from time to time, but she was finally able to faintly make out a dwarf amongst the three.
"Laër oj üls queń dïvśt ær býrü..."
The chanting further distorted Raven's vision, but she pushed the foul tongue to the back of her mind and focused. It came from one of the cloaked figures circling the tall, what may be, man. The figure continue uttering ineligible words, hobbling around the man. When the lighting hit correctly, Raven was finally able to make out that was a hag, a creature twisted to serve Jadis. She wondered how such a foul creature managed to slip into the How without the careful eyes of the other Narnians.
Raven's eyes quickly averted to the lone dwarf standing off to the side. I recognize that dwarf, she told herself. Her feet found their strength to pull her towards the dwarf, drawing her attention to set solely on him. The dwarf had a graying black beard, matted hair and wild gray eyes. Raven met this dwarf once before, but where? ...An arrow... a badger... a Telmarine... As if a cold splash of water slapped her in the face, she recoiled back in shock. Nikabrik.
With her senses suddenly heightened, she whirled around to see the hag perfectly hobble around Caspian with her werewolf accomplice drawing a circle around the said prince. Raven had flashes of memories fly through her head. She remembered a dwarven maiden drawing a circle around her statue, uttering words much like the ones the hag was saying. It was a spell of resurrection, but for who? Caspian was alive and well, so why was he in the circle?
"Aē ai yünie mar tī nä..."
Then the hag reached into her cloak, drawing out an object that paralyzed Raven in fear. The White Witch's wand. It was in perfect condition, from the crystal spear-like tip to the black werewood staff etched with spells that remained broken off, a remnant of Edmund's victory. Yet, Raven quickly forgot about that for it was only broken, not destroyed. It had survived 1300 years, preserved in time and magic just as Raven. Now, it has resurrected with her, mocking her and instilling the same fear she faced long ago. It was back to arise it's rightful master.
The hag twirled it in her claws, causing the crystal in the staff to glow eerily. In panic, Raven ran towards Caspian. She screamed and shouted in his face, a familiar sensation of helplessness erupting within her.
'He is going to die...'
Raven ignored Tash's voice, reaching out to grab Caspian and only swiping through him like air. She pleaded desperately, throwing rocks and trying to grab Caspian's sword to stir him. He didn't react, neither did the others. "No," she whimpered, her eyes drifting around the Stone Table to suddenly see the familiar midnight woods and the sight of Aslan walking through a crowd of Jadis' foul creatures. "Not again."
'Choose Caspian or the wand.'
"Aē aē yünie mar tī nä," The hag repeated her chant, her feet hobbling up the steps before she stood directly between the two pillars of angels. Raven stood firmly in front of Caspian, yelling through her desperate tears and sobs. "Listen to me! Run!" He only blinked, his innocent eyes trained on the hag behind Raven as it raised the wand to the sky. She whirled around, eyeing the wand. If I stop the wand Narnia will be safe and my duty will be done, she thought. Then turned to look at Nikabrik and the werewolf.
Their eyes were glowing with the coldness that resonated from within, and their grins dripping with hidden bloodlust. Caspian will die. They would kill the next king of Narnia if the wand is stopped, quickly dispose of him with no evidence that will follow. He would be killed in cold blood like his father was. Would she be able to live with his blood on her hands, or knowing that she never fulfilled her duty? Put Caspian at risk or Narnia?
"Wailei..."
'Choose.'
"Wailei!"
There was a force in Raven that lurched forward, her arms reaching out for Caspian but never touching. Suddenly she was thrown into a blinding white light, her body falling at an incredible speed. Then, there was heat that trickled from the crown of her head down to her toes, a release in her chest and a cloak removed from her eyes. Her eyes, overwhelmed with a cold sensation, shot open and in desperation her mouth sucked in a gulp of air. She was no longer falling, no longer in the prison of Tash. She was not tucked in the back of someone's faded memories or fighting to break through. She was free, she was alive.
She was awake.
*************
About time!
It took me forever to write this chapter because it is literally so hard to write what I picture. I will have to go back into this and edit it later on since I still feel like there was something missing.
Aside from that, what do you think will happen in the next chapter? Tell me in the comments!
Until next time,
Xx.