Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia or its characters, for they all belong to its creator, C.S. Lewis. I have added other characters for plot enrichment and the enjoyment of the reader.

Author's Note: And so it begins: A tale of a great betrayal. I hope you enjoy it. This is just a simple prologue telling you about what the whole thing is going to be about. This fanfic is rated K+ for moderate violence throughout, sometimes implied. Expect lots of updates. (Don't worry, they won't be all this short!)

Hey guys, since this thing has just been sitting around for a long time I've decided to revise it - spelling/grammar mistakes, adding detail, filling in plot line holes...if you noticed anything please say something! :) And also, if you like my fanfic, nominate it for a Lion Award at .com!! :D



Darkness has fallen, though dawn has just risen. The rich sounds of the morning light will soon be silenced under the shadow of our new leader. His brother was lenient and good to his people. The lord protector is a sharp contrast. Death collapses all around us, in a sudden blackness that no one can elude. Any sudden trickle of light in this night is doused, any hope shattered, any wink of love or happiness - shattered by him. The veil falls now, as I hear the screams of children left behind as their parents, debtors, are taken off to prison at the wave of his hand. Though it is market day, the streets are silent. Farmers have no surplus to sell. Townspeople have no money to buy. I hear his curses as he beats an incompetent soldier. The soldier screams, but suddenly falls into the most blood-curdling silence, a silence that one breathes in death.

Everyone now lives in that silence, its spectral shadow riding on their hunched shoulders. The people wait for death, hoping that what's on the other side will free them from their dictator's bonds. Their extortion is the blood on his hands. Their payment is every tear that falls from their downcast eyes. The people need a hero, a redeemer out of the ashes. But no one will come to their aid.

The birds stop their singing. It is quiet.

It isn't a sweet silence.

It is a cold silence.

-Journal excerpt from Doctor Cornelius, some time during the reign of the Lord Protector Miraz