The Witching Hour

Essay by snowflakes03 February 2006

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It hadn't always just been her. Back in the past, it had been the three of them, ruling Charn side by side. Lilith, her mother, she and her sister. The three witches, tall, proud and beautiful. But times had changed, their kingdom had fallen, and now Jadis found herself ruling a land she loathed and despised.

Though her prophecy was coming true, she found no pleasure in knowing it, especially when wherever she went the eyes of Aslan flashed at her, watching her, like the conscience her mother had frozen in her all those years ago.

"My beautiful daughter of Charn."

Where had those words come from?

She had never been a slave to her own desires, like her sister had. Her sister, a being whose wickedness had rivalled Jadis' own. But she had triumphed through her own wits, and she contented herself with that fact as the image of her sister being disintegrated filled her mind again.

Those eyes wide in horror, barely having heard the Deplorable Word before it had taken effect. Like an atomic bomb, Charn had been devastated, along with the rest of the world as the force of the magic rolled out like a rumbling thunderstorm.

Sometimes when she slept, those sinister eyes came back to haunt her, like the slivers of memory that slid softly down her cheek. And as she lay in her silver ice-cold mattress, she dreamed, and when she dreamed, she remembered.

"Sleep softly, my child, my beloved Daughter of Charn," she heard her mother whisper lovingly as she stroked her hair. "Just one more night, and I will have to let you go, for your destiny awaits you. Didn't you know that you're destined for great and terrible things?"

Lilith kissed her daughter goodbye before exiting the room,