Stephen sat on the grass with Alma's lifeless head and torso resting on his lap. He had pulled out the javelin. There was a dark patch on the tree nymph's dress where he had buried his head against her body and his tears had dampened the fabric, but he was not crying now. Stephen wiped his tear-streaked face and became aware of the blood drying on his hands, gluing them in the configuration they had when they came into contact with Alma's wound. There was also blood drying on his shirt in odd and unpredictable patches. He was aware of William at the edge of his field of vision. Stephen couldn't bear to ruin his concentration on the tree nymph by looking at him. William had also stopped crying and sat very still on the grass.
Galoren's soldiers, released from the obstructions thrown up by the grove, filtered through and entered the glade. It was not that they were following Galoren, although he was one of the first to reach the Tree. They seemed drawn like iron filings to a magnet. Once they drew close enough they could see that something unimaginable in all of Narnian history had come to pass. A murmur of talk passed through the assembled soldiers. Stephen could guess what they were saying: the shade under the Tree of Protection was only shade now, the silvery light was extinguished. After the murmurs died a profound hush was sustained over the glade.
Stephen looked up and saw the skies darkening with unnatural swiftness. He trembled at a sight beyond his understanding. The skies were blackened as if the sun had been eclipsed. All those assembled turned their heads skyward. They waited and held their breaths. A sudden, powerful wind blew. It seemed to swirl through the glade, and then, as abruptly as it had begun, it died to nothing. Standing in the glade was now a lion, a great tawny beast. In that uncanny darkness the lion seemed to glow with its own inner light. Its mane was like a golden crown framing its face. It opened its mouth and roared. The air was filled with the roar. It echoed off the hills and shook the leaves on the trees. The very earth seemed to quiver. All those present fell to their knees and bowed their heads, as if on a signal.
"Aslan," Stephen whispered. The mighty ruler of Narnia had returned at last. When he spoke Stephen expected him to thunder in his wrath, but he did not. His voice was deep and resonant but his tone was measured. It was a speaking voice, but loud enough for all to hear clearly.
"The Tree is dead, but I will not leave it to rot, or allow the White Witch and her henchmen to desecrate and mock it. It shall return to the good soil of Narnia from which it grew, to nourish new generations of tall and healthy trees. A thousand years from now a forest will still be standing here." As he spoke a shimmering silver light spread through every branch of the Tree. The Tree's leaves were shed and as they fell they crumbled into sparkling dust. Stephen and William both got to their feet as the silvery dust fell on them. They reached out their hands but by the time the dust had fallen so far it had no weight or substance to it. The sparkling lights extinguished themselves. Stephen noticed with a momentary pang of loss that Alma's body was no longer on the ground. Then he realized that Alma and the Tree were one, and if the Tree would no longer have material form then her human form could not continue either. For a moment the trunk and the boughs of the Tree stood like a bleached skeleton. Then they too dissolved and fell to earth as if they were made of nothing more substantial than snow.
"People of Narnia! You cannot claim not to have heard the dire warnings voiced by the messengers I have sent you over the years. What they said was true! I will not torment you further by repeating those words now when it is too late. You are defenseless against the advance of the White Witch and her army.
"There will be no final stand against the White Witch. I will not permit more blood to be shed, although there are some among you ready to sacrifice your own. The people of Narnia must accept their fate knowing that after the Long Winter there will dawn a new day. Four thrones will sit empty to await the coming to Cair Paravel of new kings and queens. They will be two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve. Watch for their coming! Then the land will be reborn and I shall walk among you once again. None who have led Narnia to this pass will live to see that day. The people of Narnia will be purified by sadness and suffering and they will carry forward into the new age the knowledge of their errors.
"Come to me, Sons of Adam." William stepped forward and knelt humbly before the Lion. Aslan asked, "Why do you tremble in my presence, my son?"
"I'm afraid that you will punish me for what I've done," William replied, eyes downcast.
Aslan sighed, a long, reverberating exhale. He lowered his head close to William's ear. "I cannot add to the cruel blows that the world has already dealt you. I know you are sorry for the terrible thing you have done today. You wish to redeem yourself by sacrificing yourself against the White Witch. You desire to make a grand heroic gesture but you will not have that opportunity in Narnia. No, you will have all of your life on Earth to redeem yourself for your crime. My son, know that my presence will still be with you in that other world." The Lion breathed on the boy. The warm breath enveloped him so that he seemed to float in it. It was not as one might imagine. It was dry, more like basking in the sun's heat. "I breathe on you to give you the strength to view yourself and your acts justly, both the good and the bad." William looked into the Lion's large, liquid eyes and saw compassion and understanding. To have the great Lion speak words intended only for his ears sent a keen thrill through his body and he could hear the words in his mind long after they were spoken. Aslan didn't want him to die. He didn't really want to either. That discovery rekindled a joy in him.
Aslan turned to Stephen. He said, "Do not torture yourself with questions of how events might have happened otherwise." Aslan breathed on Stephen as well. "I breathe on you to give you strength to look to a future beyond your present suffering." Stephen looked briefly at the Lion's face and saw an expression so sad and sympathetic it made him set aside his own grief. "See the boy William. He grieves for his loss as much as you do. I know that it is not in your nature to feel hatred for long. I will not ask that you forgive him today, or tomorrow, but someday your heart will be ready."
"Are the two of you ready to return home?"Aslan asked. William nodded. Stephen leaned over and whispered into Aslan's ear. "Ah, yes. I will let the dryads know to untie your pony." A low rumbling that might have been amusement went through the Lion's body. "Once you are home the pain of your memories will soften. That is the balm I offer you." As the Lion placed a paw on each boy in turn he vanished from sight.
The Lion was not finished addressing the gathered Narnians. He turned to Galoren. "You must make amends for your treachery, Galoren. First you must see that the men who died here today are brought back to Cair Paravel and given proper burial. I will not separate one side from another now.
"Those citizens of Narnia who have the strength and endurance to leave this land to escape the wrath of the White Witch will have that choice. I set you the task, Galoren, to lead the people to the mountain pass in the south and through the desert to Archenland. You will never set foot in Narnia again."
"I must presently depart from you. Urgent business beckons me elsewhere in the kingdom." A low rumble came from deep within the Lion's body. It sounded almost like a groan. "I presided over the coronation of the first King of Narnia. It would be too cruel not to be present at the final hours of King Aurelian, last of his line. He must learn all that I have told you today. An age of Narnia is about to pass."