The sky above my head churns with thick, gray clouds. Towering branches greet me as I enter the secluded forest. If luck is on my side, the snow, threatening to relieve itself from the somber heavens, will fall when I am far from this place. This place. My home. My refuge. My love. The cold dirt that covers the ground crunches under my feet. The trees of the ancient forest stand erect, lacking the vibrant foliage and warmth that accompany the seasons to come. It's unfortunate that my last moment here must be hurried. I doubt that another day to say goodbye will come again. Furthering my walk, my destination reveals itself it in the small clearing ahead. The trunks of the trees sway as if pushed by a strong gust of wind. I, however, know that no such breeze has fallen upon them. They are shying away from me. At the foot of the clearing I gasp and cling to the nearest branch. The tears that fall upon the scraggly bark are not tears of regret or remorse. They are tears of anger.

"You abandoned me." I cry through tightly clenched teeth, "You offered me no protection."

Traitor. The trees whisper and rustle in the invisible wind. We did not abandon you. You abandoned us. We knew the time would come when your strength and courage would be tested. Your magic did not turn dark without your knowledge. You knew we had prepared you for goodness, to do great deed. But you failed us.

For a second a doubted myself. And my magic. Are the words of the forest true? Had I known that they were preparing me for goodness? The thoughts of regret that fill my mind scare me. Stepping back from the swaying tree, I stumble into the clearing.

No.

My choice was right.

The White Witch will live on.

I'm sure you don't know a thing about me. Although, you definitely may have heard "stories" about me. I'm sure you immediately believed everything that C.S. Lewis claimed regarding me. I will make you aware right now, that most of what Lewis told his readers is extremely inaccurate. In fact, Narnia really doesn't exist. It's actually a figment of my overflowing imagination. As is all this.

And since you don't know a thing about me, I'll start from the very beginning.

I was born into a wonderful and loving family. When I came out of the womb my mother fainted at my beauty. My father cursed and wanted to return me to my mother's stomach until an uglier baby came out. A bit morbid, but that's the truth. When I still lived with my parents, my mother always told me how my hair shines like gold and my eyes twinkled like the darkest emeralds. I wonder what she would think of me now.

PAST

"Mother, I can't wear this dress tonight! It's to immodest! Look at my chest and how big it looks!"

My mother tightens the laces on my corset and spins me around to look at her. I see a twinkle in her eye that I have never seen before. Her long golden hair is tight at her neck in a strict bun, but the wisps of hair that float around her face soften her features. Her eyes, which mirror mine, look at me through dark, luscious eyelashes. Her smirk is subtle.

"Leona, my child, you have never looked more beautiful."

I smile at her words, but I still turn around and face the floor length mirror again. A blush has begun to gather at my cheeks as I tug at the tight, restricting material enveloping my chest.

"But, mother! How am I supposed to breathe with this wrapped so firmly around my chest! Is it to hurt like this all night?" I gasp and tug until mother gently places her warm fingers against my own.

"My dear! Your fingers are so cold! And as for the "device", as you choose to call, it is meant only to enhance your fine figure, and it will loosen up a bit throughout the evening. Now come, let me brush your hair out for you."

Holding my pale, and shaking hand, she leads me to the edge of the small bed in the corner of my room and beckons for me to sit. We aren't the poorest of families, but we also aren't the richest. The cottage we live in is at the edge of Brightenshed, a small but very quaint town. It's not too gaudy, and not to humble. It's the perfect fit for my mother and me. You are probably beginning to wonder about my father. Yes, I have a father, but he has gone with the king's militia. The war between the Gades and the Fadesers, my own people, will soon be at its end. With our people marching in victory, of course. When my father comes back home, I'm sure he'll take up to keep watch of the village, which he used to do before joining the king's army. I'm not sure what he's keeping the village safe now, or if he'll ever have to wring the bell that stands by our entrance, warning the people of danger. I only know of the legends that center around the bell, but they are too frightening and unrealistic to be true. As the most famous legend goes: there was once a beautiful and goddess-like woman, who name was Katerina. Long ago, in this very village, she was forced to marry a man who she held no love for. In fact, she loved a wealthier young man of the village, who did return her love. Katerina, however, lived in extreme poverty, her mother and father were sick. The rich boy, aware of his duties to marry a girl of equal status, proposed to a dark, quiet lady. As the legend goes, Katerina, in her grief, ran outside of the village gate. When she finally came back that night, she was in frenzied panic. She felt that something was chasing her. By the time the village heard her screaming for the gates to be open, it was too late. It is said that there was a hooded figure waiting by the gate while Katerina tried to escape from whatever wretched entity took her life. They say he watched her struggle against whatever took her. They say he openly cried while he watched. They say his name is Lenoro. The rich boy who broke her heart. It took a quarter of year's wage to pay for the beautiful dress that I am wearing now.