Disclaimer: If I were Pittacus, I'd publish this. Yeah, but I'm sadly NOT PITTACUS.

(A/N: This has a bit of allusion from Narnia, and I don't own Narnia either, and anyways Eight reads books, people."

Chapter. 2

I stared at Nine with my mouth wide open and Setrakus Ra turned to me and said, "Your friend, dear Eight. Do you still think you are better off as a Lorien? Look at him, Eight. Look at him. This is what your will end up like. What about your Marina? I will spare her if you join the Mogadorians. Join the winning team."

I looked hard into his eyes. "Never will I change, Five, never."

As Setrakus Ra drifted off with me behind him, I heard Nine whoop in joy. "You rule, Eight! I knew I you weren't just a peace-loving bastard!"

It nearly made me smile.

"And here, dear Eight, "said Setrakus Ra, while walking down a winding maze of corridors, "is where we're keeping The Beloved Leader—or me, you might just as well say—'s heir and granddaughter, your dear Ella, or Number Ten."

My mouth was hanging open in shock. "Ella?!" I gasped.

"Oh yes, Ella indeed. I am her grandfather. I was one of Lorien's elders. But sadly, the other nine elders' views were so very different from mine I fled from the planet to find my own. And fate loved me so much that I found Mogadore, a race so much like me." He turned round and grinned at me, blackened teeth showing.

Ewww.

"Anyways, "he continued, "We'll see Ella soon. Be nice to her."

As he strode away, I heard something strange in his voice.

Did he feel proud, even affectionate of Ella?

We went down another alley and a sight that made me horrified met my eyes. Ella was seated on a throne, a Mogadorian throne, for heaven's sake! Then I noticed that her eyes were blood red.

Ella! I thought frantically, hoping her telepathy would pick up my 'signal'. Ella! Do you hear me?

Ella turned to me, eyes cold and blood red. "I hear you, Eight, "she said, but her voice was no longer that of the twelve-year-old Ella with nightmares. It was the voice of a cruel person. It was the voice of a cold-hearted witch. Just like the one in Narnia.

And, with a pang, I realized the situation was exactly like that in Narnia. Setrakus Ra was the White Witch, the evil one. Saving the others the Turkish delight, the bait. And I, of course, was the one forced to betray my own people, the Lorien.

I was Edmund Pevensie.