It’s strange, this world of full of hard grey and sharp lines, Jadis thinks, examining the weapon - a firearm they called it - in her hands.
She once again looks into the pleading eyes of the four Pevensie children - and why was it children who were left to tell her - contemplating the prophecy that has fortold she will end the war.
“Fine, who do I have to kill,” she asks and sees relief on their faces; except for the sly smirk on the youngest girl’s face.