CHAPTER SIX:
OUT OF MIND

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THE SIGHT OF ASLAN'S How left Rosalie with a heavy, foreboding ache in her chest, a feeling that just wouldn't go away. For a second that seemed to linger for a lifetime, the Pevensies paused on the outer edge of the grassy field, framed by the crumbling stone of an ancient archway. On either side were centaurs, great creatures of a dream there to witness the return of the true Kings and Queens.

For a moment, the four siblings had been sent back in time, caught in the snags of a memory that no one else present could've truly understood. Neither Rosalie, Caspian, Alysanne or anyone could possibly know the weight of loss this place had bore witness to. How the mound of earth that now covered the labyrinth of rooms below told a story of blood and sacrifice, that of good and evil, both untold and forgotten.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as the Kings and Queens of Old separated from the crowd to lead the way inside. The serrated edges of a dozen blades glistened in the sun as the centaurs raised their swords above the Pevensies' heads. After a second or two, Caspian followed after them, then Trumpkin, then several others that Rosalie had — quite shamefully, in her opinion — already forgotten the names of.

Yet Rosalie remained rooted in place, that ache growing into a thump of heart against bone. Something deep in the crevices of her mind told her to run and not look back. This whisper quickly became a scream when Alysanne stepped into her line of vision.

"Are you going to stand out here all day?" Alysanne raised a thin eyebrow almost curiously.

A slow, taunting smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth as Rosalie's face flushed pink with embarrassment. Alysanne held herself like a queen, blonde hair tucked behind her ears in a cluster of wispy braids, chin raised a few inches higher so that she was looking down her nose at Rosalie. She should've been leading the charge alongside the Pevensies and Caspian, not waiting around for Rosalie in her dirt-stained dress and whirlwind of liquid fire for hair — an untamed appearance for a girl out-of-place.

"Well?" Alysanne prompted, sounding impatient all of a sudden.

"Oh, n-no, I was just—"

Fighting the urge to flee; though where she would go, Rosalie frankly had no idea. It wasn't like there was a door or anything that could take her back home. She was stuck in Narnia until... until who knew when. 

A familiar flutter of panic had Rosalie swallowing thickly. Stumbling over her words, she managed to squeak out, "We should head inside."

Alysanne blinked at her once, looking remarkably confused, before her smirk returned and she marched towards the How without so much as a glance back to see if Rosalie had followed. Rosalie was quick to scurry after her, nearly tripping on the weeds that peeked out between the cracks of the ancient brick floor.

Inside, metal clashed against metal as dozens upon dozens of storybook creatures slowly but surely built up their weapons. Rosalie wanted to stop again; the sudden flurry of noise and the stale, earthy air was overwhelming even for the Pevensies, who had already moved on by the time Rosalie and Alysanne followed after them. Instead, Rosalie forced her feet forward, dreading the thought of her last familiar face disappearing and leaving her defenceless. Something warm seemed to settle in Rosalie's gut, allowing a deep inhale of air to even out the sporadic pounding of her heart. She followed the fires burning in the grates until voices revealed themselves. She turned a corner just in time to find Alysanne and Edmund staring each other down. With Edmund were the rest of the Pevensies and Caspian.

"There you are," Lucy beamed as Rosalie came to stand beside her. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."

But Rosalie was too busy staring at the walls to pay her much attention. In the dim light, her eyes had adjusted enough to let her take in the intricate drawings carved into the rocky surface. Pictures of four children stumbling upon a whole other world, facing the trials and tribulations that came with power and the extent one would go to get what they wanted. Rosalie couldn't understand much of it, just that the four children had to be the Pevensies, and so this was their first journey in Narnia.

"This is... beautiful," Rosalie motioned with her head to one drawing, where the four Pevensies were standing with crowns on their brows, each with a throne behind where they stood watching a great, golden lion roar. Perhaps beautiful wasn't the right word for it, maybe wonderful. How carefully constructed their history was, never to be forgotten even thousands of years later.

"What is this place?" Lucy asked Caspian. Her voice was breathless; much like Rosalie, the drawings, the dim noise still echoing down the corridors; the rush of everything seemed to knock the air from her lungs.

"You don't know?" Caspian frowned. Rosalie couldn't decipher the origins of his accent; it reminded her a bit of Spanish, or Italian maybe, with its own personalised lilt that Rosalie would only associate with Narnia from there on out.

When none of the Pevensies replied, Alysanne snatched a torch from the grate, her knuckles white as she held the flickering flame at arm's length. "Come," she said, and pushed her way past the Pevensies into the heart of the How. It was completely silent, lifeless; like no one had quite gathered the courage to venture so deep. The air seemed colder here, the darkness impenetrable. Rosalie would've turned back was it not for the sudden presence of Edmund at her side, his hand reaching for hers to guide her along.

In an unexpected burst of light, the darkness disappeared. Alysanne had touched her torch to the grate, allowing the flames to travel around the room in a giant, arcing circle. The room was... bare, with giant carvings of fauns, centaurs, dwarves and the likes looking down at the group from intricate stone dais'. In the very centre, where Alysanne now stood, a stone table lay cracked down the middle. On either side of the table were two great pillars; behind them, a carving of a lion, its eyes seemed to follow every move they made. It watched Lucy shuffle past Alysanne until the younger girl was kneeling beside the table, fingertips tracing the symbols around the edges.

"He must know what he's doing," Lucy murmured, and turned to look at Susan in particular.

"I think it's up to us now," Peter said.

He was the first to leave the room; then, one-by-one, everyone else followed until it was only Lucy, Edmund and Rosalie left. Edmund gently tugged on Rosalie's hand, but Rosalie pulled back from him, flicking her gaze to Lucy pointedly. The young girl stood with her head bowed, only to glance up at the sound of her brother's retreating footsteps and Rosalie's drawing closer.

"You alright?" the older girl perched herself onto the set of stone steps that lead up to the table.

Hesitating, Lucy eventually sat beside her. "I think Peter's wrong," she murmured, so soft that Rosalie barely caught it. "About a lot of things."

Rosalie said nothing for a moment. Gnawing on her bottom lip, it wasn't until Lucy looked up at her, blue eyes wide and curious, that she spoke. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Lucy's reply was earnest.

Rosalie appreciated it, but just to make sure, "And you'll be honest with me? Even if I don't like the answer?"

"Of course, Rosie," Lucy began to frown. "What is it?"

For just a second, it was Rosalie's turn to hesitate. Casting a weary glance into the shadows, she couldn't help but fear that someone was listening, even though everyone had already left. "I burnt you, didn't I?" she said at last. The words came out in a rush, like she worried she would somehow speak them into existence if she dwelled on them for much longer. "When that bear nearly killed us. I burned you. I didn't imagine that."

Lucy sighed. She looked so much older then, with weary lines around her eyes that no fourteen-year-old should have. "It shouldn't be possible..."

"But it did happen."

"Yes, it did."

Slowly, Rosalie traced the smooth lines of her palm. For the first time in her life, she didn't feel safe in her own body. It was like she'd stepped into shoes three sizes too big for her, ones that were impossible to fill, but they'd been gifted to her, and so Rosalie was stuck. "Do you think I could learn how to control it? So I never hurt someone like that again?"

Lucy pursed her lips. "Rosie, I know you didn't mean to hurt me. You didn't even know you could do that. This is all so new for you—"

"Yes, but it still happened," Rosalie snapped, and almost immediately grimaced when her skin flushed with warmth. Case in point. What if she lost her temper one day, and the fire exploded out of her, and she really hurt someone, harmed them beyond repair? That thought alone was more terrifying than having to admit she wasn't normal. "I want to know I can control it."

Lucy was quiet for a while, lost in thought. "Okay," she said at last. "Then we'll find someone to teach you. How about Alysanne?"

"Alysanne?" Rosalie echoed the name curiously.

Lucy shrugged. "I don't know how useful she'll be, but I heard rumours on the way here that she's the last living descendant of the children of the forest. She's from the Old times; my times. She could know something, or at least point you in the right direction."

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RIGHT WHEN ROSALIE NEEDED her, Alysanne seemed to disappear into thin air. She wasn't with Caspian or the three older Pevensies, wherever they ended up after leaving Rosalie and Lucy, nor was she with the rest of the army in the main room or out in the field training. It was only when Rosalie ventured outside in the opposite direction of the clashing swords and arching arrows that she thought she spied the mysterious Alysanne, but with a flash of white hair in the distance, Alysanne had slipped into the woods before Rosalie was really sure she'd seen her.

That previous foreboding ache echoed as a warning that Rosalie ignored. Glancing around, she followed after her, somehow disappearing into the treeline without anyone noticing her. The earth was rich here, yet to be spoiled by the Telmarines and their forces. The trees seemed to whisper as Rosalie walked past, their branches swaying in a gentle breeze above her head. The sky was blue, unnaturally so, in a way that Rosalie had never seen back home.

All in all, Narnia was beautiful.

Rosalie wished she could love it as much as the Pevensies — even Susan, who seemed to have grown distant with Rosalie now that she knew the truth, appreciated Narnia for what it was. But not Rosalie. Everywhere she looked, she couldn't help but search for the danger, the unknown to scare her away.

Behind her, a twig snapped and something scattered into the bushes. Whirling around, Rosalie saw nothing. The wind seemed to quiet, the calm before a storm, and Rosalie hesitated, wondering if it was such a good idea to leave the How after all. It would be so easy for a Telmarine to snatch her up, and her friends would be none the wiser to where she had gone. Somewhat panicked, Rosalie turned back and almost immediately froze as the sharp edge of a blade pressed against her neck.

Rosalie's senses were consumed by the thick scent of charcoal. It seemed to clog her airways, or perhaps it was the panic of her life hanging in the balance, on the precarious edge of her mortal coil. Thin fingers held Rosalie by the hair and pushed the dagger harder against her neck. One drop of blood rose to the surface and trickled down her skin in a crimson line.

"Why are you following me?" a familiar voice growled in warning.

Rosalie spluttered, leaning further back into the scent of charcoal in the hopes of evading the weapon. "Alysanne?" she frowned at the flash of white hair in the corner of her eye. "It's me, it's—"

"I know who you are," Alysanne shoved her forward. Rosalie stumbled over the folds of her dress, only narrowly avoiding face-planting as she steadied herself with a hand pressed against a nearby tree. When she turned around, Alysanne loomed over her, face clouded with thunder, the amused smirk long replaced by a suspicious glare. "Don't make me ask you again. Why were you following me?"

If Rosalie thought her reaction strange, she didn't let it show on her face.

Instead, she stammered out almost frantically, "I— I wasn't. I just wanted to..." Now that she thought about it, her reasoning sounded stupid. I want you to teach me how to summon fire, because I heard a rumour and took it as fact. But what if it wasn't true? What if Alysanne wasn't a child of Old, as Lucy had claimed, and Rosalie had no one else to help her. What would she do? "I need your help."

At that, some of the tension eased off Alysanne's shoulders. Arms still crossed, she questioned wryly, "And how can I help you?"

"There are rumours," Rosalie began carefully. Sometimes, speaking to Alysanne felt like stepping through a landmine. With every step she took, Rosalie ran the risk of being blown to pieces. "Of you being a child of Old, having these... powers—"

"And what does it matter to you?"

Rosalie paused. Dare she reveal her cards so soon? "A few days ago, something happened, something that's never happened before." Alysanne made an impatient sound and gestured for her to get on with it. "It's going to sound crazy, but I summoned fire, and I accidentally burned Lucy. Ever since, I feel... different. Like something is missing and I don't know how to find it."

Alysanne smiled. It reminded Rosalie of a lion bearing its teeth. "So you're not oblivious after all." Sensing Rosalie's confusion, she added with a chuckle, "You smell of charcoal. I am not as foolish as the others."

"Charcoal..."

"Yes," Alysanne nodded. "If you're smart, which I think you are, you'd have noticed that I smell the same."

Like calling to like.

"But what exactly do you want from me, Rosalie? You say you want to summon the fire, but you're scared. How can I help someone who claims to have powers but fears what they can do?" Slowly, Alysanne circled her, eyeing every smear of dirt, every piece of untamed hair, even the pale clamour of her face. She didn't seem to like what she saw. "I fear your ability is a gift that's been wasted. A shame, really. You had so much potential..."

Rosalie bristled at the obvious insult. Brows furrowed, she scoffed, "I've known of my 'ability' for all of a few days. Forgive me if summoning fire and hurting my friend out of nowhere has shocked me a bit." She shook her head then, ready to head back to the How and lick her wounds. "Forget I said anything, Alysanne. Control isn't worth this."

But as Rosalie turned, something strange happened. A sharp gust of wind rooted her feet in place, twisting and twirling into an invisible barrier that blocked Rosalie's path at every turn. When she whirled around again, Alysanne stood with one hand raised, a glimmer in her eye that had Rosalie burning up.

"Let me go."

"Control," Alysanne repeated, and with a twist of her wrist, the wind-barrier dropped. In a flurry of leaves around their feet, the wind returned to the trees, pushing a gentle breeze through Rosalie's hair. "We can work with that."