All characters in Narnia belong to C.S.Lewis. I only own what I make up. Please add this fanfic to your library :)
Character description: Sarah
Eyes snapping open, Sarah wondered who had spoken her name. Yawning, she lifted her head and stretched her arms. She crawled out from under the wool blanket and lit a candle. The single flame ignited, causing warped shadows to dance against the walls of her large room.
"H-hello?" She whispered, her lips quivering like a frightened child as she spoke. The voice that had called out to her was like a ghostly moan. Getting out of bed, she put on her pink slippers and cautiously walked to the edge of the door. The voice called again, and she blinked.
What's going on? Is someone playing a prank on me? She wondered, and walked into the hall.
But that couldn't be. The only other two people here beside her, were the Professor and Ms. MacReady. And they both were serious people who wouldn't be the type to play tricks.
Sarah passed a shadow figure and gasped. Then, sighing with relief, she realized it was only one of the many suits of armor that stood in the hallway. More than once she had mistaken them for an actual person.
The voice continued to call out to her, and she gradually began to feel as if she was being pulled to something. She finally came to a room, and twisting the handle, grimaced as the door loudly creaked open.
Sarah frowned, realizing that this room was empty. Perhaps she was becoming insane and would have to be admitted to a mental ward. But then, her eyes came to rest on something wrapped by a large, snowy white sheet.
Moving forward, she was curious about what could be hiding underneath the sheet. When she got close enough, she yanked the sheet off, and gasped in awe.
It was a wardrobe. But unlike any wardrobe she had ever seen before. Its polished Maple Wood surface glowing silver. And carved into the wood was a tree. Surrounding the tree were mythological creature like unicorns, Pegasus, and Satyrs.
Strange. Why have I never seen this before? Wondered Sarah as she traced the outline of a Centaur.
Opening the door, she was startled when a cool breeze gently caressed her cheek. The feeling reminded Sarah of when her mother used to stroke her face.
Sarah snuffed out the candle, and listened for the voice once more.
Shaking her head, she was sure the sound came from within the wardrobe. The nape of her neck tingled in nervous anticipation as she stepped inside. Shutting the door, she was instantly surrounded by darkness.
I'm so stupid! I probably locked myself inside! She thought, and tried opening the door. But it didn't open. Beginning to panic, she banged on the door with her fist.
"Professor! I'm stuck inside the wardrobe! Professor!" She shouted, desperate to escape the claustrophobic darkness. Oh! It's pointless. Turning around, she faced the ink like darkness before her.
She slumped to the floor, and began to cry. Drowning herself in misery, she wondered why this has to happen. Sniffing, she looked up, and squinted.
A white light the size of a penny floated in the darkness. Then gradually, it expanded until the darkness had been swept away.
Feeling light as a feather, Sarah pondered whether or not she was dead. She heard a chuckle. The sound was rich, and caused goosebumps to roll down her arms.
"You are not dead, Child. At least, not yet," said the voice. She recognized it as the same one who had called her name.
"Who are you? Show yourself!" She demanded, and was startled when the face of a lion appeared. It towered above her, and she looked into his eyes. There, she saw kindness and warmth, love and compassion twinkling. But she couldn't keep her gaze fixated and looked down, feeling ashamed.
"Child, do not worry, for I have found favor with you. But my time here is short. I come to deliver a warning," he paused and looked expectantly at her.
"In a day's time you will receive a certain group of visitors. Please, get to know them. For you all will play an important role in a coming battle," the lion said in a grave voice.
A battle! I can't fight in a war! I can't even fight my own battles! That's it, I've completely lost my mind. Whoever heard of a talking lion anyway? Thought Sarah.
Blinking, she discovered that the lion's image was beginning to fade. "Wait! I can't fight! And what do you mean?" She asked, desperate for an answer to his cryptic words.
"You will know soon enough, Dearest Daughter of mine," the lion said, and then he roared. A roar so powerful it could cause the ground to shake. A roar that jolted Sarah from her sleep.
"And so, that's when the dream ended. What's wrong with me, professor? Have I really become insane?" Sarah asked. She was on the brink of tears and felt as if the dam would burst if she didn't have answers.
Every night since coming here, which had been two weeks ago, she had been having horrible nightmares and dreams. The nightmares were of a woman dressed in white, and the dreams had been of the same golden lion.
Sarah watched as the Professor removed his glasses, and polished them. He looked up at her, a kind smile on his wrinkled face.
"My dear granddaughter," the Professor said, addressing her as such because it was the truth. "You are not insane, and you are most certainly not crazy. Do you remember the adventures I told you I had when I was around your age?" He asked the girl.
She nodded, remembering when she used to visit before the war. During the afternoon, they would sit down for tea and crumpets and the old gentleman in front of her would tell wonderful stories. Stories that any sane person would brush off as Fantasy, imagination. Nothing more than a child's creative way to pass the time.
But surely that's all they were - stories to entertain me, unless... Sarah's thoughts trailed off and she looked into the professor's eyes.
"Professor," her voice cracked. "Are you trying to tell me that those, those stories are real?" The older man pursed his lips, and calmly returned her stare.
"But how? That's impossible! Animals don't talk, and magic isn't real!" She protested, jumping out of her seat. She looked at the old man, who remained calm during her outburst.
"Sarah, please sit," he requested. She did so and the kind man placed a hand on her knee. "Would I ever lie to you, Treasure?" Shaking her head, she smiled at the name he often used for her.
"I'm sorry, grandfather," she said, tucking a strand of her golden hair behind her ear. She now felt guilty.
"You are forgiven. Now, why don't we have some tea and crumpets?" He suggested.
Smiling, Sarah thought she would like that very much indeed.