Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia, the Pevensies, or any other C.S. Lewis created characters.

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The Witch stabbed Edmund through his chain mail, the fractured end of the wand traveling deep into his stomach. Though Edmund didn't have much time to think about it, the first thing he felt was a terribly cold sensation, starting at the point of injury and spreading throughout his body. And then came the pain.

Of course, soon after that the White Witch was dead-Aslan Himself killed her. Edmund's siblings, Peter and Susan and Lucy, had seen it with their own eyes. And that was it.

Even so, two years into their reign as Kings and Queens of Narnia Edmund found himself in the grips of a nightmare that he would remember, no matter how much he tried to forget, for years to come.

He was standing on the battle field, although it was surprisingly empty-not one person or creature, living or dead, was present. Edmund looked around in slight shock, feeling disconcerted. The air was oddly still, very much like the sort of calmness present before a severe storm. And it was cold-extremely, bone chillingly cold.

Edmund pulled his arms around himself and took deep breaths. Upon exhaling small clouds puffed up in front of him and then disappeared, showing just how cold it was. He was dressed only in his armor from the Battle of Beruna, and suddenly he had an odd feeling near his stomach-he looked down and immediately paled.

The chain mail of his armor was broken, and blood was soaking the tunic over it (though since the tunic was red the stains weren't as terrible looking as they could have been). Underneath all this was a horrid looking puncture wound, still bleeding profusely. Edmund wanted to faint, yet he also realized that, as bad as the wound was, he felt normal. Indeed, not even the slightest discomfort came to him other than the small twinge at the sight of the injury. For some reason, Edmund found this really disturbing.

He looked up again, and turned to the cliffs behind him, where in the Battle Aslan had appeared. "Aslan, are you here?" Edmund asked aloud. He was met with silence, but continued to stare at the top of the cliff in hopes that the Lion's golden figure would appear and explain this all and set everything right. And perhaps heal the wound.

"He will not come," an icy voice said suddenly, sending chills down Edmund's spine. He was much braver than when he'd first entered Narnia, but still he hesitated, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before turning around.

He opened his eyes….

…And stared straight into the fathomless dark eyes of Jadis, the White Witch herself. "You're dead!" Edmund cried. The Witch smiled rather mockingly at him.

"So it would seem," she replied simply, and the calmness of her voice made him shudder.

"No-no!" Edmund stuttered. "Aslan killed you. There were witnesses! This can't…this isn't real."

The Witch laughed, a high cold laugh. She continued to stare at Edmund for some time, with amusement in her features. Edmund, though he wanted very much to run, forced himself to match her stare with his own, and to stand straight and not shake or show fear. He learned this from Peter. Enemies only fed on fear, and Edmund did not want to give the Witch anything to latch onto. "Aslan killed my physical being, but what of my spirit?" the Witch challenged. "And, what of my magic?"

Despite himself, Edmund's jaw dropped. "What!" he cried, and in that moment felt terribly let down and angry, though at what he wasn't exactly sure. But that any part of the Witch could have survived-impossible!

"Well, Aslan will lock away my spirit in time, but what he does not know is that my Magic remains," the Witch said with great satisfaction as she noticed the effect it was having on Edmund. "When I stabbed you I put a curse on you-the Deep Magic may have been satisfied with Aslan's sacrifice, but I have not been, and I should still like to have you suffer, and have you die for your treachery. And you shall, properly this time. For a curse never lifts unless it is countered by Deep Magic, or else has fulfilled its purpose. As I am sure this one will, in your death. Unexpectedly, of course, when you have no one to help you."

Edmund gaped at her, and was shaking as well now, even though he had tried not to. There was a long silence until the Witch laughed a long, cold laugh that brought up such hatred in Edmund, and brought him to his senses. "Aslan knows all," he declared confidently, feeling warmth flood his body as he said this. "He will be the Deep Magic that conquers your curse, and you shall not be satisfied. He is always there to help those He loves."

The Witch gave a cruel smile, as though she knew something Edmund did not, and this made him very afraid. "Keep telling yourself that, Edmund, and you will see just how wrong you are." Two things happened at once-the Witch disappeared, and a pain like Edmund had never known before flooded his body and he screamed and screamed hoping someone would come. He was wrong in hoping-no one came.

Edmund sat up in a tangle of blankets. Sweat poured down his forehead and he was breathing heavily. There was no pain, but he was cold, and the Witch's parting words were still with him. Before he had time to think, however, Peter was in the room with Lucy and Susan on his heels.

"What's wrong?" Peter asked sharply, looking around the room.

This, and the concerned looks of his sisters, made Edmund feel very embarrassed. "It was a nightmare," he mumbled.

"I'm sorry, I know those are dreadful," Lucy said, sitting down next to him. She didn't look tired in the least, and was actually in high spirits (for someone who had been awoken at two in the morning), which was comforting. "What was it about?"

Edmund saw his siblings' expectant looks and appreciated their concern, but realized that he didn't want them to know about the dream. Whether it was true or not, there was nothing they could do-it seemed the matter fell to Aslan and Edmund himself. So he replied hesitantly, "I-I don't remember, exactly…it had to do with the Battle of Beruna." That was partially true, anyway.

Peter looked at his younger brother long and hard before nodding, and all three offered to spend the night with Edmund. Edmund decided to let them-he needed the company, and the warmth. As they all fell asleep huddled against each other, despite his siblings' presence, the Witch's words again floated into his head.

You will see just how wrong you are.