Chapter Text
"It wasn't always this way," Mister Tumnus says softly as the snow and wind howled outside the door. "We Narnians knew winter, yes, but only when Her Majesty left us to return to her husband's home. But, oh, no nation in the world knew spring like Narnians. When Her Majesty would return, there would be flowers everywhere and the river Lethe would flood its banks to wash away harsh memories of her absence."
Later when they talked to Mister and Missus Beaver, they sighed--both of them were too young to have seen the spring, but they also had stories to tell, that had been passed down in their families. But, Mister Beaver did add a particularly startling detail when he said "there sure was a lot less blooming ghosts, I'll tell you that much!"
The children paused and Peter needed a moment to pluck up courage to ask "ghosts? Are there ghosts here in Narnia?"
The Beavers both nodded vigorously. "Oh, aye. Some real wraiths haunt these woods, which is why I was in such a hurry to try and find you lot."
"Oh, but there are some very nice ones," Missus Beaver added at the looks on their faces. "Many of the newest spirits are perfectly lovely and even some of the old ones remember us and try and keep us safe."
"The problem is when they stay here too long," Mister Beaver huffed. "They begin to forget everything except that they shouldn't still be here. They get angry and then they get mean. But, until the ice melts, they're trapped here." He pounded his little furry fist against the table. "That's why we need to get you to Cair Paravel! When we do, you lot will melt the ice blocking the path to the Underworld and call her, so that she can send the ghosts to where they belong!"
Each child had their own reaction to this: Susan nervously repeated "The Underworld?" while Peter asked "Melt the ice?" and Edmund said "Cair Paravel?", but Lucy was the one to focus in on "Call her?"
Mister Beaver nodded and did his best to explain everything, but Lucy still had to ask "but how do we call her?"
"Why, by calling her name of course! How else do you call someone?"
"But, what is her name?" Edmund asked, annoyed by all this nonsense and very much starving for a piece of that Turkish Delight again.
The Beavers, however, paused and nervously shared a look. After a moment, they nodded and scrambled around their home, locking windows and shutting doors, even putting out the fire so they could shut the flue (and in the process of all this, coincidentally stopping Edmund from running off entirely). Only once every entrance was barred and the lights dimmed did Mister Beaver lean across the table and whisper "Her name is Persephone."
The moment the word left his mouth, each child felt a swell of dread and awe wash over them for reasons none of the could explain--the effect was so powerful that Edmund forgot about his hunger for Turkish Delights for a moment. Maybe it was because the moment the name hit the air, every window and door rattled violently, or maybe it was the way a dried flower in one of Missus Beaver's picture frames briefly revived, its colors bright and vibrant before abruptly wilting.
It was only after all this did Mister Beaver speak again, although he looked just as rattled as them. "She's the Lady of Ghosts, the Spring Maiden, and Queen of the Underworld. The White Witch might have shut her into her husband's home for now, but when you call her back to us, there won't be any fighting or war. Her Majesty will fix that witch, right quick, and spring will return again."