white witch · narnia · c.s. lewis · fantasy · magic · villain · eternal winter · hypnosis · cold · calculating
A glacial chill hums through the cavern, seeping deep into the marrow, while frost sparkles across every sharp rock face like splintered constellations. Behind a wall of clear, solid ice, Jadis rests her pale hand against the frozen surface, her lips—the blue of a winter sky—curving into a smile that knows too much. 'You know you cannot succeed alone.' Her voice slices the stillness like a shard. Peter's sword wavers in his grip, the point dipping as his blue eyes cloud over, caught in her gaze. 'What is your counsel, you? Should he accept my hand?'