Amelia:
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
They wouldn't stop. Obviously they were newbies, having not yet accepted their fate. They still had iron will – will as strong as the gates that kept them locked up. Not stronger. Never stronger.
BANG.
BANG.
She wasn't sure if he was kicking the door, throwing rocks at it, or simply banging his head against it. Either way, it was driving her insane. She vaguely remembered the traders bringing them in. Her mind was still drowsy from sleep, and she only heard faint mumurs of scuffling and yelling before the gates sealed shut and the banging commenced. Her own cell was empty, but the newbies next door had that old crazy to deal with.
Time in this cell had certainly made her more bitter, but she supposed she was slightly stronger. Her old owner, the twat, finally gave her back to the trade to be resold, only the traders were starting to get tired of her. This was her fifth time in this cell. She knew the guards by name.
The first owner had been the worst. He didn't beat her or rape her like the others, but she still had hope then. That simply worsened the pain, until finally, the glow inside her that she had been missing for so long gave her an idea. It was only a moment, perhaps a few seconds, where she felt the power of the Silvanus course through her veins, but it was enough. She knew what she needed to do. She needed to make it as difficult as possible for them to get rid of her. The hope faded with each passing owner, but that purpose, her job to make hell for these men, that's what she held on to.
And Edmund.
She prayed he was safe in his bed, dreaming about their days in Cair Paravel and Aslan's How.
Lord knows what would happen if he showed up here.
She head it again. Voices. She couldn't hear them clearly, her brain still fuzzled, but she knew they were speaking now. Her mind, although weak, was always stronger in the cell than with an owner. Thy fed her better here. Her hearing returned, and she tuned in to the Old Crazy's voice.
"It's hopeless," he lamented, "You'll never get out."
She almost laughed, Yeah, tell 'em Crazy. She and the man were somewhat friends, if you could call them that. They don't know each other's names or stories or backgrounds or anything, but they spoke every time Amelia found herself back in the cell.
"Who's there?" A male voice. Young. Familiar.
"Nobody. Just a voice in my head."
Silence.
"Lord Bern?"
Amelia furrowed her eyebrows, Crazy's got a name?
"Perhaps once, but I'm no longer deserving of that title."
The conversation had caught Amelia's interest.
"Is he one of the seven?"
That voice.
No, it can't be. He's back in London...
Amelia opened her eyes for the first time in what felt like years. She was met with the familiar darkness of her cell, but with a deep breath she leaned forward from her seat against the wall and dragged herself onto her stomach. Her throat was raw with dehydration, her stomach screamed for food. She dug her fingers into the soil and drug her body towards the iron gates that keep her locked in. The iron was cool to the touch, and she gripped it to pull herself closer.
The gates they used were very intricate and hardly allowed Amelia to see into the corridor, but through a small gap she could catch a glimpse of Crazy's cell right at the end of the corridor.
"Your face," Crazy spoke, "You remind me of a King I once loved well."
"That man was my father."
Caspian. Caspian. CASPIAN.
He came. He found her. After all this time. Amelia felt dizzy, but pushed through the black spots to stay awake. She tried her voice, but when her mouth opened, no sound came out. Her throat felt like it was bleeding. Either it was gone because she of lack of water... or she was screaming too much. She doesn't use her voice for anything else really. Only screaming.
"Oh my lord..." Crazy, or Lord Bern she supposed she should call him, uttered, "Please forgive me."
"No, please, please."
Then silence.
Or rather, they were listening to the screams. Amelia didn't have to look out her window to know what was happening. The latest batch of slaves... sacrificed to the green mist. She had wanted to help so often, but her powers are useless against these people. The Silvanus refuses to let her use them against the Traders.
Lost people. Help them find themselves. It had whispered in her ear.
Not to mention she was weak. So weak.
"What happened?" Caspian's voice warmed her from the inside. She tried her voice again, but only the sound of silence escaped her lips.
"It's a sacrifice," Lord Bern explained.
"Where did they go?"
"No one knows." Bern explained, "The mist was first seen in the East... reports of fishermen and sailors disappearing out at sea. We Lords made a pact to find the source of the mist and destroy it. They each set sail, but none came back. You see if they don't sell you to the Slave Traders, you're likely to be fed to the mist."
"We have to find Lucy, before it's too late."
Edmund. It was him. His voice. The voice that gave her comfort every night in her dreams.
Suddenly her body felt stronger. She had power within her, the Silvanus, it was with her. Shakily, and with heavy breath, she lifted her hand through a gap in the iron bars and pointed a finger towards the gate that locked her friends inside.
Winds of the sea... I call on you... please help me.
As sudden as the slash of a whip, the winds entered the building. Not wind like a storm or tornado, but a calm breeze. It flittered through the air, filled with whispers. A wind spirit. She felt the gentle caress of a hand upon her cheek, but saw only air in front of her.
Tell them I'm here. Tell them it's me.
The caress faded, and her ears tuned in to the conversation once more.
"There must be something that we..."
"Did you hear that?"
"The breeze... Edmund do you really think-"
"What? What is it?"
"My Lord, do you know if anyone is in the cell next door?"
"Why, there is yes, but I don't see how she can be any help. Poor thing has been passed around in the trade for nearly a year."
She heard the shuffle of feet moving and a BANG as heavy hands wrapped themselves over the iron bars of their cell.
"Amelia! Is that you? Can you hear me?"
She tried to find her voice, tried with the deepest efforts to activate the vocal chords, but they remained dormant. Tears were falling now, wasting the only water she had.
"I wouldn't count on a reply. They haven't given her any food or water for 3 days now. If she's alive, it's only just. Her body will start shutting down soon."
"No!"
"Edmund calm down!"
"No Caspian! We came all this way! I spent all this time without her! I refuse to let her die without touching her one last time! Just once Caspian! That's all I ask Aslan for! One touch..."
Her hand was still clinging to the iron bars. With all the effort she could muster, she squeezed it through the gap. First a finger, then her palm, her wrist, her forearm. It would go no further.
Just look outside Edmund. Look at me. I'm here.
"We have to get her out! I don't care-"
"Edmund, look!"
Silence.
Then I felt it. First a ghostly touch – as if he was scared of what her might feel – but then his fore finger slid around mine and his palm fell into place. His skin was rough, but warm. As it always had been.
"You have to hold on, Amelia. Just a little longer. Please. Hold onto me."
And as my eyes fluttered shut against my will, as my body slowly shut down and my head lulled to the side, as my feet no longer tensed and my upper body fell against the wall...
I gave his hand one last squeeze.