Author's Note: This story acts as a novelization and deeper exploration of the movie "Prince Caspian", an AU in which an extra character is inserted into the plot and influences the events, and a kind of sequel to my previous story called "A Good Thief". Readers don't have to read "A Good Thief" (it's quite long, but if you do, kudos to you!).

This is what you have to know: Tempestra is the vigilante persona of Julia Keating, an adopted girl who had intense tensions with the parents that raised her. When she was a preteen, she left home to live with her older brother Roger and his friend Damien, both of whom trained her to become a thief like Damien. Through a series of unfortunate events, Julia ran into trouble with a local superhero team and a criminal group called the Elite, and Roger was killed in the process. Ultimately, Julia caused the death of two criminals: Aphrodite and Frostbite. She dabbled in thievery, superheroics, and eventually settled on being a vigilante and following her own agenda and rules. At the beginning of this story, she works on her own and keeps periodic contact with her close friend, Damien.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia book and/or movie series, nor anything related to them.

Jump City

City skyline

It had taken weeks – weeks – for Tempestra to track down the illusive assassin Cheshire, and now she found herself with the thankless task of chasing the criminal down. Cheshire was renowned for her deadly combat skills and twin-bladed claws worn on each hand, an accomplished murderer-for-hire who made a mockery of the law - all the while flashing a sharp-toothed grin painted on an eerie white mask. Tempestra had followed a string of high-profile murders of corrupt mob bosses across the West Coast, but it was only after the seventh killing did she finally catch up to her.

The two raced across the rooftops of Jump City, flitting in and out of the darkness like shadows. Tempestra was no stranger to the chase - having been in the role of the chased on more than one occasion – but she did not like it. Give her a face-to-face fight any day. Her petite build was not made for running long distances; then again, some would say that her vigilante clothes weren't meant for fighting crime, but she proved them wrong. Who said skirts, leggings, boots, and v-neck shirts weren't suitable for a fight? It was the skills that mattered, and with her combat abilities and knack for shooting lightning, Tempestra was well-equipped.

They made an odd pair, the two of them. Cheshire no doubt considered Tempestra her nemesis, and it wasn't just their evenly-matched skills that proved it. They both happened to be young women on the cusp of leaving their teen years, making them carefree, defiant, and cynical. They shared a common background: Asian-Americans who refused to be categorized in solely one identity, and chose their own courses instead.

Tempestra, at least, had not decided to kill for a living. As she continued her long chase against the background of a darkening summer night that promised to be as warm as it was humid, the vigilante tried not to think about how quickly Cheshire would break out of jail after her arrest. She also tried to ignore the twisting feeling of guilt as she passed a mugging and a minor gang fight.

Seven murders, the young woman told herself firmly. Seven murders. It was the only ones with which she had evidence to pin on Cheshire. Even if the victims were as corrupt and cold-blooded as Cheshire, three of them had children who had been put in harm's way when Cheshire murdered their fathers in their own homes. Tempestra did not miss the mob bosses – indeed, she thought they were better dead than alive - but she had wanted to bring them down in her own way, in her own time. She wanted the satisfaction of seeing them carted off to jail for life sentences. They had no hope for rehabilitation, and they were better off in jail than in society.

It was ironic that she was trying to catch a killer for killing other killers. Even worse – Tempestra was, by law, not allowed to wreak the same revenge on Cheshire. One kill – even by accident, no matter what the circumstances – was a guarantee for Tempestra herself to be hunted down by the police. When the vigilante did face Cheshire one-on-one, they would not be fighting with equal ferocity. She could only take comfort in the fact that there was no way that the courts would give anything less than a life sentence to Cheshire when she was caught. The assassin's criminal record was longer than most serial murderers.

Cheshire flung herself off a rooftop without hesitation, and Tempestra quickly followed. She landed solidly in the middle of a pitch-black alleyway, and was forced to unsheathe her two long knives as her quarry turned and leapt at her. Cheshire slashed at Tempestra with her metal claws, nearly missing the top of her victim's head as she ducked under the singing blades. Springing up again, Tempestra locked her knives with Cheshire's claws and shoved a boot into her adversary's torso, throwing the assassin back against the opposite brick wall.

Mask leering, Cheshire flung two short knives and a smoke pellet at the vigilante, then bolted out of the alleyway. By the time Tempestra, coughing, had narrowly dodged the weapons and sprinted to the end of the alleyway, her target had gotten a head start.

"Damn…"

Tempestra had hoped to finally corner Cheshire, but the way that the evening was going, she was fast losing hope. She had pursued the assassin for over twenty minutes, and Cheshire outmaneuvered her at every turn. Even her lightning abilities were useless, since her opponent always managed to evade each bolt with maddening ease, and she didn't dare use too much power for fear that she could accidentally kill her. It was entirely possible that one blast of lightning could knock the assassin off a roof and to her death, or against some hard concrete and crack her skull.

The girl paused, panting, to scan her surroundings.

There.

Seeing the familiar flicker of pale green cloth, Tempestra veered right and ran across the empty, ill-lit street towards anther alleyway. A lamppost flickered feebly as she ran underneath it. As she neared the entrance to the alley, Tempestra thought she distantly heard the sound of a trumpet.

Ignoring it, the young woman darted into the alleyway, though she could not shake off the increasing feeling that something was propelling her forward. As she ran on, so far in that no light could penetrate the darkness, the feeling intensified into a pull. It was like something invisible had hooked her in against her will and was tugging her onwards.

Soon, that something was pulling her in and Tempestra was no longer running

but when she tried resisting and moving backwards that thing

dragged her in and she couldn't see what it was

but she realized with horror

that she couldn't

escape-

And then there was light ahead of her.

The tugging feeling disappeared, and Tempestra slowed down to a jog, then a walk, and began moving forward cautiously. The air in the alleyway had gone from the enveloping warmth of a summer night to the crispness of a spring morning. The muted sounds of a sleeping city had been replaced by the sounds of a quiet forest. The young woman could even hear birds chirping among the rustling leaves.

There had to be an illusionist nearby, or a psychic. It was possible that Cheshire was working with other people. She had, after all, teamed up with other criminals on more than one occasion. If she had an illusionist on her side, things were going to go from bad to worse for Tempestra. Physical combat was her advantage, not mental combat.

Tempestra crept forwarded. The sunny light revealed that on either side of her were not the crumbling brick walls of the alleyway, but rough stone walls of some kind of cave. She touched the nearest one, and was surprised to discover that it felt convincingly like coarse rock. What's more, even the scents of the forest were realistic: faintly sweet flowers, earthy loam, fresh air, green leaves and grass. Tempestra inhaled a lungful and exhaled it silently, frowning. Touch and smell was not usually what illusionists and psychics were able to imitate.

Voices.

"I'm telling you, somebody used Queen Susan's horn! Did you not feel it in your bones? It was that trembling call that every Narnian knows!"

"I felt it as well. Yet who could have blown it? The horn has been missing ever since the day the kings and queens of old disappeared."

"Maybe a Narnian found it. Maybe a Telmarine raided a treasure trove. Maybe-"

"Ugh, shut up."

"Peace, both of you. If someone has indeed blown the horn, then the kings and queens will return. If that is to happen, we must gather our fellow Narnians and be ready to greet them."

The words slid over Tempestra, who understood none of it. The mention of a horn reminded her of the trumpet-like sound she had briefly heard in front of the alleyway, but the other words were meaningless to her. Whoever was manipulating her mind must have created imaginary voices, because who in reality would talk about magic horns and kings and queens?

She had reached the entrance to the cave. Steeling herself, the vigilante peered around the side to dart a quick glance at her surroundings. What she saw made her breath catch. Some ten feet to her left were three…creatures. One was a dark-skinned, wild-looking man from the waist up and horse from the waist down – a centaur, according to Greek mythology. One was a short man with a bare chest and hairy goat legs – a faun. The last was a squirrel. None wore any clothes, though the centaur and faun were both armed with medieval-looking swords.

All three had spoken, including the squirrel.

Retreating a few feet back into the relative shelter of the cave, Tempestra leaned against the wall and took several deep breaths to steady her leaping heart. It was increasingly becoming obvious that her mind was not being manipulated. Even if she was unconscious and hallucinating, a mind alone could not imitate sound, smell, and touch so accurately.

What if this wasn't the product of an illusionist? What is Tempestra wasn't in that alleyway, or even Jump City, anymore?

"Wait wait wait. I smell something." It was the high-pitched, nervous voice that obviously came from smaller lungs: the squirrel.

"What is it?" The hushed voice was deep and resonating, from the centaur.

"Human. Close by."

"Telmarine?" That was the last voice, from the faun.

"No no no, human but not Telmarine."

"Where?"

"That way."

There was the muffled sound of plodding hooves on grass, and Tempestra pressed herself closer against the wall, holding her breath. They were coming closer, those three creatures – and from the sound of it, they did not seem to hold humans in the highest esteem. In fact, they sounded fairly hostile towards humans.

Ah, shit. She was definitely going to have to fight them. The vigilante gripped the hilts of her knives and summoned her inner powers, causing lightning to bloom over her hands and writhe over her metal weapons. If those creatures were about to attack her, they would get more than they bargained for.

The faun was the first to dart inside the cave, but he wasn't used to the darkness.

Tempestra was. As the creature, squinting, chopped down with its sword, the young woman trapped the weapon between her crossed knives and used her boot to shove him backwards against the wall, where he hit his head against the stone.

The centaur was on her in a heartbeat. He swung his broadsword in an arc – Tempestra felt a stab of fear - but the vigilante leapt backwards and used one knife to parry the large weapon away from her. The other she pointed at her opponent. A thick bolt of electricity jumped from the tip of the knife and onto the centaur's torso, eliciting a bellow of pain and surprise from him. When the creature stumbled back a few steps, Tempestra turned to lock weapons once more with the faun, eyes glittering and small bolts of lightning flying from the clashing blades.

This time, the faun drew her out into the light by slashing and retreating. Tempestra was busy fighting, but a corner of her mind noticed that she was surrounded by gigantic trees in a forest, with dappled sunlight falling onto springy green grass. When her opponent sliced at her in a crescent motion, the young woman moved to parry the attack. The faun feinted, then knocked one of her knives away and caught her in the ribs with one unexpectedly powerful and solid hoof, throwing her to the ground and knocking the wind out of her. Before she could get to her feet, the faun lifted its sword and Tempestra breathlessly raised her own knife to protect herself, knowing that it would be useless-

"Stop."

The faun froze at the centaur's command. He and Tempestra turned to look at the tall creature, who was walking over. Surprisingly, his sword hung limp by his side. The squirrel, too, approached, nervously darting forward, hesitating, then scurrying forward again.

"Glenstorm-"

The faun's protest was silenced as the centaur – Glenstorm - raised its hand. The creature was surveying Tempestra solemnly. He had a strong face, with a broad mouth, deep-set eyes, and a large nose. He looked proud and noble. Judging that she was no longer in a fatal situation, Tempestra got to her feet, holding her knives at the ready.

"Daughter of Eve, by what name are you hailed?"

Bewildered by the sudden change in attitude, Tempestra leveled a cool look up at the centaur, who was at least two feet taller than she.

"I'm Tempestra," she replied cautiously. "What does Eve have to do with-"

The centaur shook his head.

"You misunderstand. I call you a human – sons of Adam and daughters of Eve." When Tempestra just stared at him, he continued, "Forgive us. We were taken off guard by your appearance. We have not seen humans-" there was a definite note of disgust in his voice "-for some time. Especially not a daughter of Eve – a woman."

They did not seem to still be in the mood to attack her, so Tempestra relaxed slightly. She was starting to overcome the fact that there was a talking centaur, faun, and squirrel, and that she was somehow in a completely different place than she had started in. As long as they didn't seem eager to hurt her, however, it seemed reasonable to show some courtesy and friendliness to get on their good sides.

"I'm…lost," she said finally. "I was cashing someone into an alley, but I came out here." She indicated the cave behind her. "Where is here?"

The faun lowered his sword slowly.

"Narnia," he replied curtly, then looked at the centaur Glenstorm. "Why are we letting her live? If she's a Telmarine-"

"She isn't a Telmarine." The squirrel spoke up in front of her for the first time. He sniffed the air, then nodded decisively. "Not a Telmarine smell. Different, like something sweet. A flower?"

"Look." The three creatures looked at Tempestra. "I don't even know what a Telmarine is, or Narnia, or how the hell I'm talking to two mythological creatures and a talking squirrel."

"You are not of this place," Glenstorm noted.

"Of course not!" the faun exclaimed. He shot a look of exasperation at the centaur. "She isn't Narnian, she's human! What if she's a spy?"

"I do not believe so." The centaur was looking almost gravely – almost reverently – at Tempestra again, which was starting to make her uneasy. He looked like he knew something that she didn't. "Do you not recognize her, faun?"

The faun looked cluelessly at the young woman for a moment, then shook his head. The centaur sheathed his sword, then bowed his head.

"She is the Lady Lightning of old."

Author's Note: If you've read this story before October 2013, you might notice that this chapter is different. Starting in October, I'm going through the first chapters and rewriting them to make them more appealing to new readers and easier to get into. I'm also improving the writing style and content, since I started writing this over three years ago and my writing has changed quite a bit since then.