Chaos swirled, near-tangible smoke through the crumbling halls of Cair Paravel, debris and dust falling from the ancient stone. Once, a glorious monument of freedom and hope. Now, a dying symbol of a long-gone promise. The Narnian's who fled the ongoing attack moved in graceful silence, the fear and love shattering plain as day across their faces as the galloped for cover.

Emily watched, the spreading ache in her chest becoming unbearable. Lead that filled her bloodstream and anchored her down into place as a volley of boulders flew her over her head, coming crashing down on the Narnian's.

But the crash of the chaos soon came to have a voice. A deep, rhythmic beat to which words formed and truth followed.

"From the Glistening Eastern Sea to the Great Western Woods. From the Radiant Southern Sun to the Clear Northern Sky. Fallen hero of Narnia, let the Magic at its core carry you through peacefully into the Lion's Country, and let you be free from this world's burden for eternity."

Emily Clarke woke with a start, tangled up and trembling in her blankets. The heat setting in from her room was suffocating. Weighted and waiting. Moments passing longer than supposed- a bee trapped in amber. To be suspended in a free fall for the rest of her life.

It was minutes before she had the kettle boiling in the Professor's kitchen, a mug and chocolate sat ready and waiting to be used. She wrapped her dressing robe tighter around herself against the frigid draft.

This wasn't the first time she had dreamt of her country's destruction. The event had seared itself in her mind, a burning, ever-present brand. A reminder of her uselessness. Her inability to do anything but watch as the things she loved were ripped away.

A pang of longing went through her for the Pevensies- they would've been able to figure out what her dreams meant together.

But the Pevensies were back in London, most likely preparing themselves for the oncoming school year.

And then she wondered if Peter was having the same dreams.

"A watched kettle never boils, my dear. Best prepare the milk as you wait."

Reaching for a dagger that was no longer set at her waist, Emily exhaled as she turned, fingers unclenching on the air. "You scared me."

"Nightmares can be treacherous things," Professor Kirke gave her a smile that told the world of the compassion and kindness that allowed him to open his house to five scared children little over a year ago. "I too enjoy soothing away their horrors with a nice cup of hot chocolate. Though you could never go wrong with adding a mere dash of cinnamon."

She pinched the bridge of her nose wearily as the kettle whistled behind her. "How did you know?"

"It's written across your features," and as he watched her stand to tend to the boiled kettle, he went on. "It may be useful to get it off your mind."

Steam made her eyes water as she studied the way the chocolate melted in the heat of the water and her shoulders dropped. "Cair Paravel." Emily focused on going through the motions- stir, milk, stir, a dash of cinnamon for the Professor, drink. A simple repetition to calm her, keep her grounded. Keep her from being swept out into the ice-cold sea of dread.

"You don't- think that my dream could somehow be true?"

"As a prophecy of sorts?" The Professor set down the saucer carefully and fixed Emily with a cautious sort of gaze. "I have seen stars appear in a new-born sky, and animals rise from their underground cave-hills to give their loyalty to a magical, talking lion. Concerning Narnia, I believe the question you should be asking is, does your dream depict the past, present, or future of Narnia?"

"Now, now, that's enough," Amalia shook her head, coming around to rest her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "No need for this sense of talk so early in the morning."

The Professor raised the mug to his lips once more when Emily said nothing, eyes twinkling in concern and said, "Some fresh air after a long night might do some good."

And that was how, as the sun climbed to its peak in the midafternoon sky, Emily clung to back of Vix, the breeze tearing at her clothes as they galloped through the trees, Amelia not too far behind.

The green blurred together, forming a warm edged tapestry in the corners of Emily's vision as they rode past, leaping over rocks and bushes, following an invisible path to the heart of the clearing. Gold wove its way into the green, thread to tie both the figments of reality and fiction together in a perfectly imperfect way. "Fledge, I-"

Cold crashed over her. The colors muted. Becoming less vibrant, less- magical.

This was not Narnia.

This was some backroad forest along the English countryside.

And Emily would not mistake the two again.

She slowed to a stop as Vix crossed over into a clearing, a circle of dried leaves and pine needles framed by an array of trees that towered overhead. Their shadows cast dark shadows across the ground, a deep contrast to the trickling sunlight that fought to make its way through the leaves to reach the dirt.

"It's beautiful," Amalia smiled, eyes on her daughter as she came up beside her. "Here?"

Emily could barely feel herself nod, the two slipping from their mounts before tethering them to nearby trees. A laugh tickled the back of her throat as she took in the picnic her mother spread out on the blanket. Apples, cheese, sandwiches, chocolate biscuits and a thermos of what seemed to be lemonade. "Mrs. Macready truly went above and beyond to fix this up for us."

"Don't go looking a gift horse in the mouth, Emelia. She could have filled those sandwiches with maggots and fish worms." Humor twinkled Amalia's eyes as she tugged Emily to sit at her side, wrapping an arm around her. "The only power that fear has over us, is the power that we give it. And dreams are just that, messages our mind is trying to convey to us through our subconscious. Don't fret. I'm sure it means nothing."

Picking at the sandwich she had taken, Emily leaned back into her mother's warmth, eyes falling to the faint glimmer of silver. "Did you get a new ring?"

"What? Oh, this?" Amalia mused and glanced down, dropping the small circlet into Emily's outstretched palm. "I want you to have it."

Emily smoothed her thumb over the tarnished surface, frowning as she felt something etched into the silver. Shifting away from her mother, expression searching, she studied it, feeling the confusion only grow inside. "How- where did you get this?"

Amalia shook her head, "Emily, I-"

"It's a seal ring. You can see the crest." Turning the band over between her fingers, she watched the light glint off its surface. "Aut vincere aut mori." Emily tilted her head back to see her mother as warning bells flickered in the back of her mind at the words. There was a tug deep inside, her mind attempting to show her information that she could not remember. "It's Latin."

"Most mottos are, darling."

Sensing the tone in her mother's voice, Emily fell silent and slid the ring onto her finger, making a mental note to search the library for a Latin dictionary later. With a sigh of resignation, Emily opened her mouth to speak, stopping when a rustle in the bushes nearby caught her attention. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Amalia asked as she reached for an apple, studied her daughter and the greenery with a frown.

With a shake of her head, Emily poured herself a cup of lemonade. The rustle only drew up further memories, further feelings of the bone-deep weariness she felt to her core. Reminding her that these were not the woods of Lantern Waste. Not the woods where she had saved, lost and bled for the people she loved. The country she cared about more than anything.

Amalia took a bite of the apple, the crunch echoing loudly, and said, "has Peter not responded to your letter yet?"

A flash of gold moved through the trees. And then it was gone, fast as it came. A glint. Emily dismissed it as a trick of the light and turned to respond when the shrubbery to her left moved again. A figure appeared, shadow casting itself far into the clearing. Emily's blood froze in her veins.

"Come."

"Emily?" Her mother took her hand. "Did you hear what I said?"

Emily flinched back, staring at Aslan, who watched her back with an unblinking gaze. A hand rested on her arm, pulling her back into herself. Back into reality. She blinked and Aslan was gone. The only gold coming through the trees was the waning and watery sunlight that tried in vain to reach the ground. "I- What?"

"I asked about Peter, your letter to him." Amalia rested the back of her hand against Emily's forehead. "You're a bit feverish darling, are you sure you don't want to head back?"

"Come."

"You don't see him?" Emily moved back, her eyes flicking forward and back over the wilderness. Her heart echoed in her ears. Her blood thumping to the beat of an unspoken melody, a magnetic force that pulled her to her feet.

"See who? There's no one-"

But Amalia's words had dulled, becoming a distant buzz in the distance as a wave rolled over her. The air changed, crackling with something dangerous, old and archaic. Alluring and powerful and heavy. It was magic that tingled her skin, shifting the woods around her. Ripping apart the reality of a picnic and rewriting it into a more ancient place, where the trees had once danced and the streams sang songs of the wild, odes to the kings and queens who ruled from a castle by the sea.

Emily breathed in deeply. The air had become sweeter, fresher than England, without the traces of dust and desperation that laced it even in the countryside.

"Emily."

She whipped around, breathless as she searched for the source of the sound. For him. "Aslan?"

"You must find them, and quickly. For soon Narnia will be in greater peril than you can imagine."

Gathering up her skirts in her hands, Emily followed the sounds, the rustle of branches to her left and the faintest glimmer of gold up her head. Maybe she was losing her mind, hallucinating or dreaming once more, but she followed him anyway, the knot in her gut telling her that this is real, not a dream. "Who is them? Who must I find?"

Aslan's voice came again, reverberating through her head, echoing in her mind. The breeze that had been fighting her stopped. The birds fell silent. A hush falling over the woods. Respect for its rightful king seeping from its pores. "Remember your oath, Lieutenant. For as Narnia was mine to create, it is yours to defend."

Emily's knees crumpled as the words slammed her down, the power and command racing through them too much after so long away. The leaves blurred together over her head, a golden and green canopy.

She woke to the rhythmic sloshing of water, head throbbing as she curled onto her side, tremors wracking her body. She coughed, gasping for breath when a hand touched her shoulder.

Emily rolled, grabbing the hand and flipped her attacker into the water. She lashed out, fist connecting with skin and someone cried out. The assailant, a young man with dark hair, spun around, getting to his feet. Hands grabbed her from behind, holding her firm. Emily kicked. And he stepped forward. "You're a fighter."

Emily put on her most charming smile, resisting the shiver of cold that trickled down her spine. "And you are?"

"Address his majesty-"

"At ease," his majesty raised a hand to stop him, looking her over with a twinkling curiosity. "You aren't from around here, are you?"

Dark hair, dark eyes, and a damning amount of confidence that only came with years of pampering and living as royalty. Emily resisted the urge to spit at his feet and instead chose the path of confusion- an innocent, small-town girl who had grown up fighting. In a harsh world, with even harsher terms, it wasn't an uncommon trait in the kingdoms surrounding Narnia.

"N-no, your majesty." A perfectly timed flush, eyes averted towards the ground. A faint tremor in her voice. "I- I did not know. Please forgive me. I assumed- I thought you were bandits."

The hands holding her tightened, a roughly accented voice came harshly in her ear. "Do you not know what the royal bearings look like, girl, to have mistaken them for the trappings of bandits?"

"Enough." The royal- a prince, Emily decided. There were too few guards for it to be the king- waved a hand and she was released. "Perhaps she does not. It's not as if we go parading in the village streets to kiss the newly born babes."

The guard only narrowed his eyes at the prince's statement and shook his head, darkness brimming as he looked back at Emily. "Your uncle Miraz would like to see her."

Uncle?

"Why would he be interested in a girl, General?"

The general raised two fingers to his lips, ignoring the prince as he whistled to the other guards, paces away. "We bring her."

Chapter one has been rewritten and edited! Ahh, I'm so excited for you all to read it! Thank you all for sticking with me through this!

All the love,

Liz