˗ˏˋCHAPTER SIXTEENˊˎ-

***

"YOU KNOW, I'M really getting tired of all of you leaving me behind—" Eustace's voice rang out from behind, Wren spared a quick glance back, watching as he stopped short after pushing through the tree leaves, widening his eyes at the sight of the odd looking creatures surrounding the crew.

"It's the pig. The pig's come back!"

"This place just gets weirder and weirder," he mumbled, bewilderedly.

"Weird?" One repeated. "Him calling us weird?

The one-footed creatures suddenly went haywire, and began bouncing around like maniacs as a man in a long cloak walked out of the house with Lucy. Wren felt herself grow even more confused.

The Oppressor bowed down. "Your Majesty."

"Caspian, Edmund, and Wren," Lucy introduced, though Wren had no idea why the younger girl had decided to include her in that introduction. She wasn't royalty—not yet, but nobody fixed her statement, instead, Caspian smiled as if he'd been hoping for some type of opening like that. "This is Coriakin, his island."

"That's what he thinks!" One of the creature said. "You have wronged us, magician."

"I have not wronged you," the man defended. "I made you invisible for your own protection."

"Protection?! That's oppressive!"

"I have not oppressed you."

"But you could've...If you wanted to."

"Begone," he said, and he chucked some white fuzz at the creatures, making them scurry away.

Eustace shot the man a confused look. "What were those?"

"Dufflepuds," the Oppresser (Wren didn't know his true name, so she decided to refer to him as that until she did) replied. He very quickly ushered them into the house, as if he knew they were in a rush, and they all followed him without complaint. Most of the crew went back to shore at Caspian's word, and they were down to about six people now.

"What did you mean when you said you made them invisible for their own good?" Lucy questioned as they walked through the halls of the mansion.

"It seemed the easiest way to protect them from the evil," he answered.

Edmund and Caspian shared a look from besides Wren. "You mean the mist?"

The Oppressor stopped. "I mean what lies behind the mist."

Wren tried not to shudder at that, and stepped into the room. Her eyes widened, gaze landing on the books that were rotating mid-air, and the galaxy particles that were shaped on the windows. They gathered around as the Oppressor took out a rolled up piece of parchment, and threw it onto the floor. It was at least ten feet long. Wren watched as it transformed to life, showing an image of the ocean, big puffy clouds floating above the body of water.

"There is the source of your troubles," he said, and the map shifted to show a location that was filled with green mist. "The Dark Island. A place where evil lurks. It can take any form. It can make your darkest dreams come true. It seeks to corrupt all goodness...to steal the light from this world."

"How do we stop it?" Lucy asked.

"You must break its spell." The Oppressor turned to Edmund. "That sword you carry—there are six others."

"Have you seen them?" Edmund wondered.

"Yes."

"The six lords," Caspian realized. "They passed through here." It wasn't a question. "Where were they headed?"

"Where I sent them." The man said, almost guiltily. "To break the spell...you must follow the blue star to Ramandu's Island. There, the seven swords must be laid at Aslan's table. Only then can their true magical power be released." Caspian, who Wren had been expecting to glance to Drinian as conformational, looked to her instead. She offered him a slight shrug. "But beware. You are all about to be tested."

"Tested?" Lucy repeated.

"Until you lay down the seventh sword, evil has the upper hand. It will do everything in its power to tempt you. Be strong. Don't fall to temptation. To beat the darkness out there...you must defeat the darkness inside yourself."

Wren had to hold herself back from how corny that last sentence sounded—and instead forced herself to stare at her combat-boots, which now almost looked as scuffed as the first pair she'd ever worn. It was hard to believe she'd been in Narnia for nearly four years, her previous life seemed like lifetimes ago.

On their way out of the mansion and back to the boat, Wren couldn't help herself. "Well that was spirit-lifting, wasn't it?"

And she felt a proud pit form in her stomach when they all laughed—momentarily shaking them all from their somber thoughts—because they had no idea just how bad it was going to get.

***

The first three days of the voyage had been uneventful—but no one was complaining. It had been sunny and the sailing had been smooth. Her and Caspian hadn't had any stupid fights, which is what usually happened when they were stuck on the ship for a long amount of time. When they were arguing the crew seemed less...lively, and she tried to avoid bickering with him because of it. It was like they could all feel the tension between the couple, even when they were on opposite ends of the deck. Their rations hadn't even begun to run low, and there was a glimmer of hope that shined through the crew.

Wren should've known that was just the calm before the storm—literally—because on the fourth day, they'd been hit with a thunderstorm that had yet to go away.

It was the tenth day when the crew started to get restless, and lots of arguing had broken out. They were beginning to lose hope, and some of them even suggested just turning around to head home. It didn't help that they were now running low on rations. Tensions had risen rapidly over the course of the unpleasant period of the storm, and Wren couldn't blame them. Which is why nobody tries to stop the shouting.

On the twelfth day, something weird came over Caspian, and he was giving her the cold shoulder. Wren of course had tried to figure out what his issue was, but he hardly even glanced her way when she went to confront him. It drove her mad.

She tried to ignore how much it actually bothered her, and resorted to other things, such as helping out the healer on the lower deck whenever one of the guys got too rowdy and ended up actually getting hurt. It happened more commonly than she thought.

More often than not, she found herself buried away deep in her thoughts, and most of the time they were about why the hell her fiancé was being such a prat. At first, she thought it had been the bad weather. Granted, she would've understood that. It had everyone down. And then, she realized he was only acting that way towards her, so it wasn't the bloody weather.

The only thing she could come up with was the incident on day nine, where Sterling (a tall blonde man who usually stuck around Tevros) had offered to assist her on tying the knots for one of the sails, and truth be told, she'd always been rubbish at it, so she agreed to letting him help. Maybe Sterling had pressed a little too close to her side, or maybe it was how he grabbed her hands to show her how, but either way, there had been nothing romantic about the situation. At least, on her part. And she doubted on his end, too. Everybody knew she was engaged to Caspian. It'd be stupid to think anyone had a chance.

So why had Caspian thought otherwise? Surely he couldn't be jealous. The thought of it nearly made her laugh out loud, King Caspian did not get jealous. What was there to envy? Though, as she sat there in the lower deck, patching up Jace's bleeding arm, she decided to consider the option.

But as she walked up the stairs to greet him, he brushed past her without even a second glance. Her heart deflated, and she stared after him as he climbed down the steps.

"Cas-"

But he was already gone.

She was getting soaked just standing there in the rain, her hair was sticking to her face and her clothes clung to her body, but she didn't dare go after him. Maybe she was cowardly for doing so, or maybe she was terrified of ruining the one thing in her life that she actually cared about.

"Hey!" A voice shouted over the thunder, and Wren turned her head to see Edmund struggling against something. "Help! I got my sword stuck in one of the floorboards."

Wren couldn't help but laugh, and she quickly walked over to him, wincing as the droplets of water blew into her face because of the strong wind. "How did you manage to do that?"

"I was trying to clean it," he scrunched up his face, tugging on the handle again, but it didn't budge. "And it feel out of my hands and landed like this. What are the chances?"

She laughed, again, and he did, too. It felt good. The sound of laughter hadn't been exactly frequent recently, so hearing it—and even doing it—made her feel better. Like her insides weren't actually completely cut off from the rest of her body.

She put a firm hand on the hilt of the sword. "Okay, we'll pull on three. Ready? One...two...three!" It didn't work, the sword hadn't even budged, and they both shared a look. "Want to try again?"

"What's the problem?" Someone asked from behind, and Wren lifted her head to see Sterling stalking towards them. His face broke out into an amused grin. "Wow, Your Majesty you've got a talent for getting into sticky situations, huh?"

Edmund snorted. "Apparently."

"I'll help," he announced. "Three people is better than two, right?"

"Right," both Edmund and Wren said in unison. The trio quickly grabbed the handle, and pulled, but still, nothing. They did it again.

"I felt it move!" Wren said, wide eyed.

"So did I," Edmund nodded. "Okay, one last time. Ready?"

And in sync, they yanked out the sword. Edmund had been the one to actually keep hold of it, while Wren lost her balance completely, and stumbled onto the floor. She wasn't the only one, though. Sterling went flying back along with her—and somehow—much to her displeasure—landed directly on top of her. They stared at each other for a moment, completely breathless. It hadn't even registered in her mind that all of that had just happened.

Thankfully, he rolled off almost immediately, and stood up. Wren followed in suit, and dusted off her pants, not like that was going to do anything, she was already soaked. She could feel the tension rolling off him before she even saw that he was there, and she glanced up just in time to meet his eyes.

Caspian looked murderous from where he stood across the deck, and from the way he was glaring at Sterling, she could already tell he'd gotten the wrong idea once more.

"Caspian, no it wasn't what you-" She tried to tell him, but he'd already turned and marched back down the stairs.

authors note

IM NOTHING IF IM NOT AN ANGST GIVER