Author's Note: Well, at long last, here it is: the final chapter! I again apologize for the delay... I promise I have a good excuse! It also took me a while to get this chapter to where I wanted it to be. But enough babbling... Enjoy!

She waits at the Edge of the World, where each new day her song brings forth the sun and the sun-birds that feast at Aslan's table. This is the only home she has ever known, this quiet existence with her father the Star and the routine she has repeated daily since childhood and never questioned. But something is changing now; she can feel it in the air and see it in her father's eyes even though each day still plays out the same as the one before. Something is coming: something new, something that will interrupt the course of her life as she knows it now. Like the firebirds, something is hiding just beyond the horizon.

Change is something with which she is terribly unfamiliar, but some part of her has always known that her life would not be the same forever. She realizes that it will not be her fate to live out her days on this island in the same way she does now. With each passing day her father grows younger and younger, and soon enough the time will come for him to retake his rightful place as a guardian of the heavens. She also knows that there is no such place reserved for her, that her life is to be played out among the other beings of this world. Her father has told her stories, of course, grand tales of battles won and love lost, of the great deeds and mortal shames of the race called Men. It is this race, he has told her, to which she will one day belong.

Her mother, too, belonged to that world. She knows this much about her, though not much else. Despite their many years with only each other for company, her father has only very rarely brought up the subject of his daughter's mother. She can see that it is a source of great pain for him, though she doesn't know why, and out of love for him had stopped asking questions when she was little more than a girl. Back then, her curiosity was only to find out about this third person who had once been a part of their lives but was no longer. His stories had often included these interesting and unfamiliar creatures called mothers, and her small mind had wondered if she had ever had one and, if so, where she was now.

When she was a little girl, she had asked her father about her mother. The first time she had asked, he had gotten a faraway, vacant look on his face as he stared off into the Eastern horizon. A few minutes later, which seemed impossibly long in her child's mind, he returned his gaze to her and told her that that was a story for another time. Perhaps when she was a little bit older, he would tell the story of her mother.

She had frowned, unsatisfied, but hadn't pushed the issue any farther that day. A few days later, when he once again sat down to tell her a story, she asked if she was old enough yet to hear about her Mother. Again, he request was denied.

As she grew, she would occasionally attempt another inquiry, but as each one was met with a kind and sad-eyed refusal, she slowly stopped asking and simply accepted the fact that she had had a mother once and didn't anymore. As she grew, she learned that she would probably never be quite old enough to hear the story. It wasn't her age that mattered; the passing of the years was not only making her older but making it less easy for her father to talk about the subject.

Her questions had only been prompted by curiosity, not sadness or a sense of missing out on something very important. Having grown up without a mother and having had no others present in her life with whom she could compare her experience, she feels neither slighted nor much upset by the fact that she no longer has a female presence in her life. For as long as she can remember it has always been just her and her father, and she neither yearns for a mother nor pities herself for her lack of one. Her father has been nothing short of wonderful (she assumes, again having nothing to compare) and by all measures she counts herself highly blessed

But now there is a different look in her father's eyes and concern lines his face in a way that it should not appear on the visage of a man growing younger. Something is coming, a change that both of them are powerless to avoid. Though a reserved man by nature, her father has been even quieter of late and has taken to giving her an extra kiss goodnight. His morning song is deeper, more fervent, than before, and when he grasps her hand he always gives it an additional squeeze before letting it go.

She hasn't asked any questions of her father since she began noticing the change, and she is almost afraid to because she knows that he will not be able to distract her so easily now that she has grown. She also does not want to give voice to the sadness that she sees in her father's eyes out of worry that it will break what seems to be a carefully constructed façade of strength and resignation.

Perhaps it has something to do with her dreams. They have changed lately; no longer are her father's stories or their life together on the island the pleasant subjects of her nightly visions. Increasingly frequently a stranger is appearing to her. His face is blurry, and her dream-self often squints hard to try to make out his features. He has been growing increasingly clear to her as the weeks pass; she can now discern his golden hair and skin tanned from the sun. There is a boat, too, but it is unlike the boat that the Sleepers brought with them. This one, or what she can make out of it, is small and colorful and regal in every way.

There are other dreams, too; dreams that include snakes and children and creatures that she has never seen before. Some are frightening, so much so that she wakes up from the green-tinged visions in a cold sweat with the light, airy blankets of her little bed tangled up around her legs like snakes. Others are so very pleasant, the kind that you can't remember but leave behind a feeling of contented excitement that lasts the whole day. As much as other dreams frighten her, it is this kind that give her peace and a hope that this unknown change that is coming will not be entirely terrifying.

Perhaps this change will have something to do with the Sleepers, the three men who have slumbered so long at Aslan's Table. She had almost forgotten about them, really; as time passed their hair and beards had grown until the people underneath were barely discernible as men at all. They neither moved nor made any sort of sound, and therefore as each day passed their presence had receded further and further from the front of her mind. She barely noticed them as the sun-birds feasted around them, concentrating instead on her song and the glory that Aslan shone down on each bright new day. Now that things were different she notices them with a renewed interest. Surely their presence on the island is no coincidence… could she dare to assume that their fates are intertwined with hers?

She remembers the Sleepers' arrival but only barely, for she was very young when their boat ran aground. They were nearly dead, mumbling something about a quest and other things that her small child's mind didn't understand. Her father had mercifully put them to sleep, she remembered, and she had watched curiously as the first people she had ever seen aside from her father and herself fell into a state of eternal dreaming. After it was done her father had gathered her into his arms and whispered in her ear that it would all be explained someday, but not to worry because that revelation was many years away and wasn't today a lovely day to spend at the tide pools? Ever trusting in her father's wisdom in the way of most little girls, she had quickly forgotten all of her half-formed questions in favor of a delightful day squealing over all the multi-colored organisms to be found in the rocky tide pools in the bay.

Now, as she thought back to those moments, it struck her as odd that she didn't remember any surprise in her father's face when the men had arrived. He had always been calm, collected, and thoughtful, but all of the events of that day were handled with even greater solemnity than he usually displayed. She also remembered an expression on his face that she hadn't understood then but did now: it was resolve and perhaps even a touch of sadness.

Once, when her father was inside their little house and she had made the excuse of a night stroll on the beach, she had approached the Table and drawn near to one of the Sleepers. After taking a moment to gather her courage she had stepped closer, close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder. At first her touch was feather-light, and she drew her hand back quickly as if she had been scalded. The Sleeper had remained completely motionless, however, and after a moment to still her thundering heart she reached out again. This time she brushed away the long locks that hid his face, revealing a visage she hadn't seen in years and was much altered since. The long beard and bush-like eyebrows hid most of his face, but she could still make out enough of his features to recognize him as the kindest of the three men. It was this man who, despite his exhaustion and hunger, had still spared her a small smile and stooped to pick a tiny flower to present to her. She had glanced nervously back to her father before stepping tentatively forward to take the posy with her best attempt at the curtsy her father had only just begun teaching her to perform.

She wondered at what he was dreaming, or if he was dreaming at all. Perhaps they weren't even a part of this world any longer; maybe they had passed into Aslan's country. She knows what death is, having seen the cycle of life pass season after season over the various plants and animals on the island. But these men are not dead, at least not in any way with which she is familiar.

Now, she gazes out across the vast and mighty ocean, keeping watch for any ships that might be headed toward her island home. Below her she can just make out the Sleepers and Aslan's Table, quickly disappearing into the gathering darkness twilight has brought. Beyond are the bay and the vast ocean spread out like a dark and mysterious blanket protecting the island from intrusion. To her right the candlelight twinkles through the leaded-glass window of their little house just as the Stars above her head sparkle down over all she sees. Her father is in the house and the candlelight reminds her of the future that awaits him. Soon he shall shine in his own right, again a young and vibrant Star placed in the heavens to guide weary travelers and provide comfort to lonely souls gazing out on a glorious and clear night sky. She knows that his heart longs to rejoin his fellows in their nightly celestial dance but also cannot imagine a moment when the two of them would be parted so eternally.

It is this thought that frightens her most of all, the idea of a future without her father in it. He has been her everything for so long that he seems inextricably linked to her very soul. Whatever the dreams mean, whatever the change is that is coming so soon and so mysteriously, she hopes that it will not be too painful and too permanent a parting if her father is not to go on this journey with her.

She wonders if, should her destiny take her far from this island and her father, she will be able to look up into the night sky as she is right now and recognize him among the millions of glittering Stars that crowd the heavens. She would like to imagine that she will, and that regardless of what is to come she will never be alone to face it.

She still needs some time before she is completely at peace with what Aslan has in store for her. She is trying very hard to be brave about it and to look forward to such a change with optimism and a sense of adventure, though she is not quite there yet. Regardless, a change is coming. The Sleepers are there still, but they may not be always. Her father the Star grows younger and stronger by the day. The golden-haired man continues to become clearer and clearer before her dreaming mind's eye, and perhaps someday soon she will understand what he has to do with her future. He will come to her; he may already be on his way. And she will continue to wait.

Author's Endnote: Thank you all so so so very much for reading through to the end of my humble little story! Thanks especially to ElvesWizardsCentaursOhmy and Metonomia for your wonderful reviews at the end of Chapter 5! I've had a lot of fun writing this, and am actually attempting to cook up something to spin off of the first chapter about Caspian's mother. Let me know if you have any interest and/or suggestions!

For now, though, I hope you are all enjoying your summer (or winter, depending on where you are!) and thank you all ever so much once again!