38 - Path Of Stars

Lucy could not find Van all night, and toward the end, Aslan disappeared too. As soon as the crowd attending her was distracted, she hurried outside and made her way down to the shore. This part of the beach was all sand and surf, where it seemed ages ago, she had played tag with Cori, Susan, and Asha as her brothers looked on.

Aslan was there, waiting for her. She ran to him and hugged him hard. "You're leaving, aren't you?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he murmured. "Narnia is secure. You and your brothers and sister have formed alliances that will protect it for hundreds of years to come. The nobles of Telmar. The dryads of the east. The Jinn of Calormen. Someday they will find themselves free, and Saris will help lead them to it. And you have ties to Ettinsmoor and the Lone Islands now." He gave her a long, gentle look. "There are other worlds to put right, Lucy. I must leave Narnia in your care."

Lucy's breath hitched, and she fought back tears. "Will you come back?"

He made a regretful noise. "It will be a long, long time, dear one. But I promise you, you will see me again in my own Country."

Unable to stop the tears now, Lucy buried her face in Aslan's mane. "I'll miss you."

"You cannot truly miss what is never gone from your heart, Lucy. Nor can I miss what is never gone from mine." Aslan gave her an affectionate Lion's kiss, then turned away to raise his face to the star-strewn sky.

Brighter and brighter the stars became. One by one, they rained like streaks of light onto the ocean's surface, where they stretched out into a shining road that ran all the way to the horizon.

Far off, Lucy saw a breathless brightness. Open-mouthed with wonder, she stared until her heart pounded and her eyes watered. And she swore she could smell flowers and hear the sound of waterfalls.

"Lucy?" came a voice behind her.

Vandelar.

She turned around to find Van standing a few steps away. He stared over her shoulder with a strange, awed look on his face.

"I thought you left," she said.

"I was going to." He came forward and took her hands. "I'm not nobility, Lucy. Not really. You deserve kings."

She gave him a mock scowl. "I'll decide what I deserve, Vandelar et cetera, et cetera, M'Haven," she scolded, "and not you, nor my blustering-rooster brothers are going to decide it for me." Smiling now, she added, "And as for what I want ... this will do just fine." She leaned forward and kissed him.

Van stroked her hair and slipped his arms around her with an answering smile. "Who am I to dispute you, m'leddy?" When he looked back over her shoulder again, Lucy followed his gaze.

A lump formed in her throat. Aslan was gone, and the stars had returned to their places in the sky.

- # -

Helen Pevensie wiped her forehead as she walked up the stairs of Digory Kirke's old country mansion. He needed them, he'd said, and so she, Michael, and the children had moved in with him. The old house now rang with happy shouts and running feet, which might have given Mrs. Macready fits, but the Professor seemed so glad to have them all together in his house that even the cantankerous housekeeper relented ... as long as the children played outside after their tutoring lessons, and not under her feet.

Helen never talked with the children about the strange appearance of their adult selves during her frightful experience with the Germans. She wasn't sure if the children even suspected it, or if they were supposed to. But something in their demeanor seemed to change, and even if they never talked of Narnia or Kings and Queens—or Aslan—it was if she and Michael and the Professor and the children all shared that wonderful secret.

And so here she was, needed neither for cooking nor cleaning. For once in her life, she had leisure time. And when it was quiet, when the Professor and Michael were in the study and the children were outside, and Mrs. Macready was cooking in the kitchen, Helen explored the big house.

Upstairs, in a spare room on the top floor of the house, stood a carved wardrobe. Here, her children had started their amazing journey toward lives wholly separate from the ones they led in England. She touched the carved tree in the center panel, and then one of the carved lion faces at the top. Cautiously, she opened the wardrobe door.

The only things that greeted her were fur coats, a few empty hangers, and the faint scent of mothballs. Then she noticed a paper tucked into a crevice on the back of the door. Curious, she unfolded it. The writing was not the still-childlike scrawl of her eldest, but somehow she knew the body of it was from Peter. The signatures were each unique: bold, or elegant, or artful, or playful, according to their bearers.

Dear Mum and Dad,

Please don't worry for us. We know eventually you'll come looking in here for us—but we're already with you. One of Aslan's greatest gifts is that no matter how long we are in that Other Place, time doesn't alter here, and we're never gone from you. We love you—There, and here, and always.

Love,

Peter

Susan

Edmund

Lucy

Helen folded the letter, teary-eyed, and placed it in the pocket of her shirt.

How blessed she was. She had four wonderful children ... and already, she knew they would grow into incredible men and women. Wiping the tears from her cheeks, she shut the wardrobe door. Then she walked to the door of the spare room.

She paused at the threshold to glance back at the carved wardrobe. She studied one of the lion-head carvings, and smiled. "Thank you, Aslan," she whispered. "I hope someday to see the country you've shown them for myself." Very quietly, she shut the door.

~ The End ~

A/N: It's over! I can hardly believe it's over! A huge, enormous, very affectionate THANK YOU to everyone who has followed the "Blades of Narnia" series over the almost three years I wrote it. Special thanks to the awesome community at Narnia Fan Fiction Revolution, to whom I dedicate these stories. It's been a pleasure to share this series with all of you, and I hope you've enjoyed following me along with this adventure. Thanks again ... and Long Live Aslan!