The scream that came from the closet wasn't a cry for help. It was a cry of pure, unadulterated loss.
Caspian stood before the closet door, his trident raised, his heart hammering against his ribs. Primrose was gone. Swallowed by the floor. And now, the corrupted Lord Malachi was standing in the center of the nursery, the black sludge of the Nightmares swirling around his ankles like obedient pets.
"Do you hear that, Sea King?" Malachi rasped, stepping over a pile of ruined stuffed animals. "That is the sound of a broken Heir. The sound of surrender."
Malachi raised his blackened hand. "Step aside. I will make it quick."
Caspian didn't move. He was a King of the Ocean, and he would not yield to a glorified shadow-puppet.
"If you want them," Caspian said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, "you will have to kill me. And I promise you, Malachi, I will make you drown in your own blood before I fall."
"So dramatic," Malachi sighed.
He flicked his wrist.
