This was the trap set for Aslan and his companions by the army and the magi.
The celebration had been real, and so had the joy and happiness—at least that's how it had felt at the time. The true memories were overwritten, and the false joy filled their minds. Even the soldiers and magi had been subtly hypnotized, making them forget their identities and blend in with the local people.
The boy who had brought Aslan and the others to the city shrank into himself. Within this fabricated happiness, he was no longer an orphan but a child loved by his father. Though not perfect, it was a far cry from the lonely life he had once led in the real world.
Now, as the dream faded, a man in another room sat up suddenly. His joyful expression quickly turned cold as he looked at his clothes in displeasure and tore them off. He opened a cabinet, retrieving his armor and a spiked mace, which was adorned with bones.
Clearly, the man who had pretended to be the boy's father was none other than the general of the invaders.
He surveyed the shabby room and glanced up at the moon, which was being gradually obscured by dark clouds. This was truly a perfect night for killing. The general assumed that others must have awoken by now, recalling the guests they had entertained the previous evening. He was certain that their targets had arrived, and if they didn't act quickly, by dawn they would fall under the influence of the hypnotic suggestion again.
The general turned to look at the boy, who was still pretending to sleep on the bed. The boy was trembling, and soft sniffles escaped him. Despite trying to hide under the covers, the general, with his keen instincts, could easily sense the boy's distress.
But the general wasn't going to harm the child. Though he enjoyed battle and had a violent nature, he preferred to fight strong opponents. Killing a defenseless child would bring him no joy—it would be an insult to his warrior's spirit. To him, killing an unarmed person would be the same as mocking fate itself.
Yet, not all the soldiers shared this sense of honor. Many of them, after the suggestion wore off, had turned their false joy into a cruel game, killing without a second thought.
The general walked to the door and slowly opened it, turning back once more to look at the boy. "Even though we share no blood, I've enjoyed these last two days together," he said. "Stay inside tonight. No matter what noise you hear, don't go outside. It's the only way you'll survive."
With that, the general picked up his mace and left, leaving the boy behind. He wasn't going to harm him—not yet, at least. Their conquest was about domination, not slaughter for its own sake. If they killed every living soul in their path, there would be nothing left to govern.
The invaders weren't just here to cause chaos—they intended to stay, to rule, to freeze the land and claim it as their own. Unlike the false king, Votigern, who sought only destruction, they sought to establish a new homeland.
The general's thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of chaos coming from the other rooms. Screams and the clattering of weapons filled the air. These were the soldiers and magi, caught up in their bloodlust.
The general took a deep breath and shouted, "Stop! Get to my side now! Do you want to wake the targets and make them suspicious? Use your heads!"
The bloodthirsty soldiers paused at his command, reluctantly ceasing their carnage and gathering in front of their leader. Many of them were covered in blood, their faces twisted with savage grins.
One soldier cracked his neck and looked eagerly at the castle, his axe in hand. "The targets are already in the trap. Let me lead the charge, and I'll tear them to pieces! My axe is hungry for blood!"
A few magi, having discarded their civilian disguises, took their wands in hand. They ignored the soldiers, their disdain for the "barbarians" evident. The magi were more aristocratic, more refined, and thus thought themselves above the others.
The leader of the magi, an elder, glanced at the general and spoke coldly, "You'd better hurry. Soon, we'll have the entire castle sealed. Once that happens, no one can escape, and no one will be able to enter. If you don't move quickly, don't blame us for taking all the credit."
The general scowled at the magus's arrogance but said nothing. He raised his mace and gave the order, "Attack! Full force!"
And so, under the cover of night, the invasion began.