It was a quiet night. The only noise that was heard was the waves crashing against the ocean below the castle grounds. The light breeze from the cold night swept through open windows, rustling the curtains and swaying the canopy of the bed.

Alena laid against her mattress, staring up at the canopy, watching the fabric dance in the low wind. She could not sleep. She tried but she failed. Her eyes were wide awake and her thoughts were running around like a lion on the prowl.

Sitting up slightly, the young woman decided to check on her sister. Slipping out of bed, quiet as a night fox, she left her room and crossed the hall swiftly. Pushing open the stone door, Alena stepped inside.

The bed was before her, carrying the body of her sleeping sister, Megra.

Megra was seven years younger than Alena herself. Though the two are sisters, they are vastly different both physically and mentally. One look at them could easily fool someone that the two are not related.

Megra has short, dark hair. It was black as a raven, thick in curls that only reached her shoulders. Her skin was fair to the point where it looked delicate, and Alena was often afraid that she would hurt Megra just by hugging her.

The older sister moved a violent curl out of Megra's face and watched her sleep for a moment longer. She could never remember being that innocent, as though there was not a care in the world that required her attention. Where did her innocence go?

Megra shifted in her bed, which made Alena believe she overstayed her welcome. She shuffled to the door quietly, like a mouse, and opened it. Stepping outside, she was almost knocked over by a passing guard.

Alena stood back, only to watch more guards running after him. She turned her head, watching them turn a corner and disappear. Something was unsettling in her stomach and she longed to find out more.

She followed the guards, jogging to keep up with them. However, much to her chagrin, she was spotted.

"Princess, you must go back!" shouted one of the guards.

Despite the warning, Alena did not pay attention. She squirmed through the guards only to hear a louder commotion, screaming and yelling bursting through her eardrums.

Turning to look out of a nearby window, her worst fears were recognized. The stables were already engulfed in flames and the fire was climbing up the castle walls quickly. The guards were attempting to put out the flame, but the more they poured buckets of water on the raging fires, the more the fire got angry and grew.

"Save the king!" someone had shouted over the commotion but Alena was not hearing anything else but the roar of the intensity.

She ran past the guards, determined to help save her home. She went downstairs, struggling to make it past the cooks who were clamoring up. Entering the kitchen, Alena was hit with a bout of heavy smoke. Holding her breath, the young woman raced to the side door and forced it open.

Outside was worse than inside. Her first thought was to race to the stables to find her horse Balios, whom she named after her teachings from her professor. She trudged over to the stables, dodging the sudden whim of flaming arrows that were penetrating the guards around her.

Her kingdom was under attack and she needed to get help.

Stepping over a fallen guard, Alena could feel the flames dancing on her face as she approached the stables. Before she could reach the stables however, great hands grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around.

She stood face-to-face with her father, King Oaison. She was relieved to see a familiar face, though she was also scared. The king's face was sullen though his eyes were vibrant with wrath.

"What are you doing out here?" the king snapped at his daughter, shaking her in his strong arms, "You shouldn't be out here." He was holding a satchel in his arms. Alena could feel the leather rubbing against her skin.

Alena could not say a word. Her voice was frozen in her throat. She had never seen her father look as angry, as terrified as to what was happening. Her eyes tore into his, determined to stand her ground and retrieve assistance.

"I am going to get help," Alena said boldly.

King Oaison's face went from fuming to surprise. His demeanor changed just as quickly. He kept a grip against Alena's arms while pushing her backwards, walking her away from the scene that lay behind him.

"No," he said. His voice was stern and authoritative. "You will leave. You will leave the island of Galma and save yourself," he said.

Alena could feel the change of ground underneath her feet. It went from a smooth under footing to a rougher, prickly one. She knew she was at the edge of the forest, the very same one she often explored, the very same one that surrounded her kingdom like a wall of trees, like protection.

"But—" she began to say, only to have her father cut her off.

"There is a boat," the king began. The words were coming out of his mouth quickly now, like he was trying to get all of them out before something happened. "It's on the shore. Take the boat to Narnia. It should take you two days at most. Use this, it will help you." He handed the satchel to her.

Alena stood there, watching her father push her further and further into the wood with each passing word he spoke. He was saying things, but her mind was not processing it. Her hand mindlessly reached out to take the leather bag from her father's hand.

"You cannot come back to Galma. Under any circumstances do you not come back," he responded sharply.

She could feel the tears brimming against her eyes at this point. How was she supposed to just leave without a second's glance back? Her father, King Oaison, looked frightful as he leaned in to kiss his daughter's forehead.

Alena made a move to hug him but a sharp gasp had prevented her from doing so. Her father pulled back, his grip against her arms loosening considerably.

"Father?" Alena asked quietly.

The king sunk to his knees. His eyes were now glassy and he used his remaining strength to point to the brush of wood behind her. "Go," he whispered.

He fell forward and Alena could see the flaming arrow that had pierced her father's skin from behind, sticking right up like it had claimed its mark.

King Oaison looked up, giving Alena one final push as he spoke his last words, "I love you."

The young princess, her hand over her mouth now from such horror, stepped back over a branch and looked down at her dead father. Gripping the satchel tightly before slinging it around her shoulder, she heeded her father's words and took off in a run, in the direction that King Oaison had put her toward.