Only a day later, Caspian was safe back at Cair Paravel, along with the wounded centaur. He hated being stuck there, but he figured he might as well do something useful. He headed for the library and stayed there, studying about the signs of dark magic, as well as family history. He couldn't get this man's claim out of his mind. A brother? How could this be? He couldn't believe that his father would have abandoned his eldest. But there were so many possibilities, capture, supposed death, lies. Caspian sighed, rubbing his aching side. Lies, maybe that was all this man had to offer.

But still, when he went to bed that night, his dreams were tormented with dark magic, and death.

An Island, East of the Lone Islands-

A woman stirred a boiling cauldron, the scarlet flames licking hungrily at the blackened metal. She was a sorceress, her flowing dress dyed black, a poisons green peeking between folds. She was not ugly, far from the witches you may think of. She was pale, and very beautiful, but not young. It was her magic that kept her appearance as though she were 30.

In the cauldron she could see Caspian's defeat, and she curled her lip back in an ugly satisfaction. Her son would not be forgotten. The plan was going well. The only weak part was that Caspian had survived. But that was minor. It could be fixed.

She strode away from her potion, eyes glowing as she thought of her victory, striding outside and into the night air. A struggling lily was blooming near her feet, and she noticed it with disgust. She walked away from it, and it promptly began to shrivel in her poisoned wake.

Her green eyes roamed the waters, hungrily straying in Narnia's direction.

She would do what her mother couldn't. She would hold Narnia forever.