When one is young and goes through an experience that commits itself to memory, normally it isn't remembered all that well. It can reoccur it dreams or déjà vu. Every time someone is reminded of it, the memory seems to simmer on the surface of their mind, almost within grasp, before it slips away again to hide in the recesses of their memories. This is something Peter was experiencing more and more often lately.

The High King sat up, breathing hard, and looked about the room to calm himself. He lay in a large four-poster bed, thick with silk covers, down blankets, and rich velvet pillows, which were set in the middle of a large chamber room. His towering windows, which faced outward to the sea that Cair Pareval looked over, filtered the moonlight onto his bed and onto his pale sweaty face. His dream had returned, yet again. He could never remember it for more than a moment or two after he woke, but he would never forget the feeling that always lurked afterward. He felt yearning and restlessness, like there was something he needed to do or someone he needed to find.

Peter threw back the covers and stood, his long trouser pants swishing softly around his legs while his bare chest was lightened with the moon's gleam. He ran a hand through his tousled golden cap of hair, which was now long enough to curl at the back of his neck. His aqua sea eyes scanned the room once more and he sighed. He was only in his bedchambers, safe and sound, with no one around to bother him. At least, that's what he thought.

As he turned, his eyes lay themselves upon a form he'd hoped most to see. Out on the moonlit terrace beyond his large glass doors, stood the shape of a large beast with a very thick shaggy mane. The lion seemed to shine brighter than the moon itself although no light was cast off him.

"Aslan," the young King whispered.

The lion, quiet in his movements and eyes, patiently waited as Peter moved forward and threw open the terrace doors to be greeted with the night air. He took his place next to the lion and stayed solemn and silent.

"Son of Adam, you look strained," Aslan said after a moment, never looking towards Peter, but staring up at the moon and stars.

Peter sighed again and gripped the chilled stone of the railing. "Yes Aslan, I am. Narnia is facing hard times and I know not how to lead them. Something is drawing my focus away from my duties, towards other things," he said.

Aslan merely stood there, silent as ever. When he did not offer comfort to Peter or advice, the King took the opportunity to glance over at the noble lion. That was when he realized Aslan did not look well. Although he still gave off his godly light, his glow had dimmed to a mere shimmer and his coat no longer gleamed. He looked as though his mane was molting and thinning, and his body looked like it sagged with tiredness. Peter frowned, his brow creasing. Could Aslan be ill? Or worse…dying?

The lion's eyes flickered towards Peter and locked gazes with the High King. "You are deterring from the subject on hand, Peter. Think not of me, but of your kingdom and your problem," he said softly, a weary light going into his eyes.

"But Aslan, you look…worn," he said, trying very hard to gather what he wanted to say. The idea of Aslan being ill or dying was lodged in his mind and making Peter unbearably sad. "Please, Aslan. What is wrong?"

The great Lion seemed to open his mouth and let out a large warm breath, like a sigh and looked towards Peter yet again. "Let me tell you something, Peter, Son of Adam. Keep this with you, for as long as you may live," he said, looking now towards the skies. "All things in life have a beginning. Everything is created for a purpose and spends its existence looking to fulfill its purpose. And once it's done all it was meant to do, there is no longer a purpose for it to live. Thus, it, like all things, comes to an end. No one is exempt from this simple rule of life, not even myself."

Peter tried so hard to gather what Aslan was saying and not to miss a thing. Now the idea seemed to dawn on him. "No. Aslan, you can't mean you're going to die, do you?" he asked, worry clouding his mind. "You've created Narnia and so many other worlds. Without you, nothing will be able to hold the evil back that is growing in this world! And what about all your duties? Aslan, without you, we could all cease to exist!"

"Calm, Peter. Do you think I'd leave without giving my creations hope?" When Peter said nothing, the Lion continued. "The evil you speak of is growing strong as we speak and whether I stayed or not, it would make no difference. The time of myself is setting and a new time is dawning. Are you prepared, Son of Adam?"

Peter felt, deep inside of him, that Aslan was about to tell him how to save his country and put his mind to rights again. "Yes, Great Aslan, I am ready."

"Then let us hear of the Prophecy, told to me from the First Star, which will secure the fate of Narnia…or it's destruction," said the Lion as he led Peter back inside to whisper things Peter never thought he'd face hearing.

And outside, below in the yards and hidden, an ominous shadow lurked, listening and plotting the downfall of Aslan and of Narnia.