Terabithia is not like the normal world. In Terabithia, magic flows like water. Shadows speak, demons are real and imagination controls all.
In Terabithia, the trees can see, and the trees can listen. They see much more than anyone knows. They guard many great secrets that they shall never tell. They knew no company but for themselves for many years, but then two outsiders came. Two of the young, the brave. Two who were determined to find a better place than the one they knew. Two with the power to imagine. Which is all Terabithia ever needs.
The trees watch, their souls alight with joy, as the youngsters discover the kingdom, and the world comes to life.
The trees help all they can as they fight off the minions of the Dark Master, battling the evil that has long since lived in the kingdom.
The trees smile as Terabithia gains a King and Queen once more, weaving them crowns from the finest of their wood.
The trees grant them guidance as they continue on their quest; they do all they can to aid without being noticed.
The trees laugh, a happy twinkling sound, as the children share their first kiss as evening falls on a cloudless day.
The trees shelter them as they get caught out in the rain, little though the children seem to mind.#
The trees listen in wonder as words they did not expect passed between the children as they grew.
"I... I love you, Jesse."
"I love you too, Leslie."
The trees hear, but they will never tell.
The trees protect them from the worst of the world, that which would take them to darker realms.
The trees are happy because so are the children.
But then the trees scream, because their Queen has died. The forest is empty without her. Nothing seems right any more, because the Queen understood them.
The trees weep as their King cries amongst them, broken and lost amidst their roots. He does not look at them in the same way now. The trees can tell the magic died with their Queen. Their King does not want them any more.
For months, no one comes to Terabithia. The trees all but give up hope – but then, oh, then. Their King returns! There is a new passion to him, a new light in his eye. The trees whisper. They know he is planning something.
The trees gladly lend him their wood, and their hearts all but burst with joy as a new Princess is crowned. She shall never take the place of their Queen, never, but now the memory shall live forever within the legends of Terabithia.
But all things must come to an end. It takes a few years, but their Princess stops coming to visit them. She does not believe in the magic that lives there any more, and their King cannot bear to come back alone.
The trees look away as the forest is left abandoned. Nothing moves. All is still. No sound. No breaths, no light footfalls upon the leaves. No young shouts or whispers. Even the Dark Master himself has given up, for how can he fight when there is no longer anyone to bring him to life?
The trees grow lonely, and they stop listening. They can't stand the silence any longer. Years pass this way, and the magic fades from the place. Imagination ceases to live there, because there is no one left to shape it.
It takes time, but Terabithia falls into slumber. The trees settle down, wondering if they will ever wake.
But they shall. Many a summer passes, and several more since their Queen died. But finally, a soft footfall disturbs a few fallen leaves that spin into the air. Before they have settled, the trees are already shaking themselves awake. Eager whispers pass to and fro. It is their King! Older, to be sure, at least two decades so – but they know it is him. And a child with him, too. A young girl. She's called Leslie, they murmur. Their King shows her the kingdom, and everything wakes. It is different from that which it has ever been, it is as their new ruler wishes it to be. But it is still Terabithia.
The trees smile, because their King is smiling as he watches the child run into the wood. His daughter will bring them back to life in a new way. But the memory of the old will live on forever, in the running of the water, in the blowing of the air – and in the whisper of the leaves.