Narnia: Prince Caspian & The Dark Angel

14 | Torture Remedies

It was cold, very cold. That was the only evidence of life for Raven, aside from the sensation of what could be arms wrapped around her securely. Everything else was lost in the labyrinth that Tash laid out in her head. She was alone in facing all of her fears, the voices hiding in the corner and allowing her to hear the terrible sounds perfectly. There was so much blood and death, all filled with cries of mercy or hatred. The sound of metal meeting skin was heightened, and she heard almost every cry end with a sword or arrow. Then it was the sound of burning. Raven felt it, smelt it, saw it. The raw skin charring into a ghastly black color, slowly reaching to touch the bones of its victims. The cries could still be heard after, and Raven tried to cover her ears, but her body was far from her control. As of now, she was trapped in her mind.

On the outside, Edmund could see her terribly pale body and dazed eyes securely held by the talons of a gryphon. He didn't even know if she was alive, but a strong part of him hoped so. Edmund can't imagine what would happen to the Narnians if their ultimate protector was dead. A dead body intact is better than in pieces, he told himself, remembering the sight of her falling into the abyss around the Telmarine castle. Edmund considered it luck when the gryphon spotted her black figure in the dark.

"She's terribly cold, sire!" The gryphon yelled loudly over the wind so that the king on his back can hear. "My talons are numb."

Edmund peered over the gryphon's wing, seeing her petrified face once more. There must be something the hags in the How can do to help her. His brown eyes scanned the small numbers of narnians below him, before nudging the gryphon. "Hurry! We need to get to the How as quickly as possible." The gryphon obliged, swiftly picking up speed.

Peter watched the gryphon soar from a distance, his quiet anger only escalating with every step he took. The raid was a disaster, ending with more than half of his people dead behind the castle gates and the wounded trailing behind him. To say that the High King was embarrassed would be an understatement. He was disappointed in himself for not listening to Raven, who warned him of the destruction that could follow. He was also disappointed in entrusting Caspian to fulfill his part of the plan, only for the prince to pursue his own endeavor of revenge. Peter's sympathy for Caspian only stretched as far as the truth of the Telmarine king's death, and the rest of him resented the boy.

The failure of the mission was because of Caspian, he'd tell himself. It was all because of him.

In that moment, he could imagine Crystalline scoff and possibly smack him upside the head. "Blaming the outcome of your ideas on others is not noble or just," she'd say. Peter groaned lowly, knowing that her voice of reason was true as ever, yet it couldn't dig deep enough to heal his pride. So he marched on, allowing his rage to bleed out a path for those to follow, but not for the right reasons. He heard rhythmic footfalls come behind him, and was just about to bite off the head of who he imagined to be Caspian, only to see Glenstorm. The centaur bowed in greeting, catching up to Peter's quick pace. "Are you alright, my king?"

Peter forced a neutral expression and tried to loosen his tense muscles before offering a nod. "As alright as anyone can be, given the circumstances."

The centaur stayed silent for a moment, allowing Peter to further toughen his façade of strength. "Forgive my bluntness, your majesty," Glenstorm finally spoke. "But you are a terrible liar."

Peter's eyes flashed up at the golden ones of Glenstorm, ready to insist that there was no issue when the centaur shot him a knowing look. "You can deny all you want, it will not help you. I know you are angry with the outcome of what could have been a brilliant victory, but understand that lingering anger can lead to hatred. Hate is the downfall of every kingdom and every person; do not let it infect you."