I have a vague plan for how this chapter and the last will play out, which should (hopefully) come to a decent-ish conclusion. Perhaps I should rewrite this from the ground up after this is finished. Maybe I will, maybe not. Whatever I do, though, I'll leave it as it has been completed within the week, because I think there's something kinda special about that, too.

To respond to Queen Rebecca, with grateful thanks -

Chapter 3 - I'm glad you're finding it interesting. And the next challenge is the entirety of September, next year. I'm sure we'd all love to have you; the more, the merrier!

Chapter 4 - You have hit the nail on the head.

Chapter 5 - I'm glad the paragraph worked. I definitely think that my writing of the events last chapter was poor enough that it absolutely deserves your criticism of it not being the best choice. Hopefully the way it works in this chapter will change your mind. I'm glad you still can't wait to see what will happen next!

And on with the chapter, now! We're getting to the important bit; either today or tomorrow it should be revealed the exact truth of the sides and the quote that inspired this.

Prompt #6: Do any of the Four play music? How would this change or affect their time in England if they had played an instrument in Narnia, or vice versa?

Someday soon, I will be free, and I will never have to see the alyen again.

"No! I—I won't!"

"You mean, you won't of your own free will," corrected her father.

Taira kicked wildly in the grasp of two sturdy Rabbits. "I'm tairen, I won't go along with this!"

"You will," he informed her, glancing around at the small group of Animals and Dwarfs that surrounded them. "You will, Alya."

Two days had passed since her return to the home of her father, and during that time she had been under close guard. They had gone out during the daytime to forage, and at night she lay trying to sleep, unnatural, smothering, huddled against her littermates. And her father had shown her the plant, and suggested she try it, just once.

Taira felt like she was choking, as the scent rose up all around her. Paddy... She still had to wonder, futilely, if he had followed her, or, if not, what had happened? Was anyone coming? Would anyone save her, or would she be left here forever? She'd tried to escape, and it had all gone downhill. With a taste of freedom, captivity seemed still more bitter and hopeless than before.

She had refused the offer and taken the opportunity to make a break for it, which had—of course—not succeeded.

But now she stood in a small forest clearing, and there seemed to be no escape.

"I won't!" Taira repeated, still struggling.

A Cheetah loped into the clearing. "She'll be along in a minute."

The skin crawled on Taira's back as she sensed the weight of pure evil approaching them. Everyone else around her looked energised, excited, but Taira's heart rate was up with fear, not joy.

Then a hunched little old woman stumbled into the clearing.

"Oh-ho," she said, in a high, reedy voice, "all here waiting for me, eh? And the white Rabbit," her gaze caught Taira's, and Taira shuddered, "all ready for the ceremony!" She produced a scroll from her clothing, and Taira knew in a flash that this was the scroll she had dreamt of.

The first part was unrolled. "First, Wolf," she eyed a thin grey Wolf crouched as far away from Taira as possible (Taira wondered why), "prepare the blue flames."

A stick, wielded by the Wolf in his mouth, drew a large circle, into which the old woman stepped carefully, not disturbing the etching in the dirt. She tossed a sprinkling of powder over the circle and muttered something.

A Dwarf, holding a small pot of embers, dipped a small twig in it, which rapidly caught alight. As Taira watched, the woman directed the Wolf to set the circle alight. It burned with a horrible blue colour.

"Help!" shrieked Taira suddenly, hoping the others were distracted enough by the awful flames that she would get in a couple of shouts. "Help! Tairen! Aslan!"

The last came almost without her own volition, but she was almost sure the flames dipped in intensity for a moment.

"Aslan! Aslan! Aslan!"

Then they quieted her, the old woman hissing something about the White Queen.

The flames flared higher.

Taira was beginning to suspect that the woman was in fact a Hag: her whining voice, hunched posture and evidence of magic corroborated with it. The Hag tossed another powder into the fire, and now it turned vile green, fading slowly to a bleached grey.

The Wolf took a running jump and leaped into the circle, claws skidding across the dust. The Hag continued to work her way down the scroll, mostly with chanting and figures drawn in the dust by the Wolf.

To Taira's horror, however, a shadowy figure began to appear beside the Hag, and at that moment the flames flashed unbearably bright and turned purest white.

"Now for the white animal!"

Taira felt sick, fighting desperately as every step she was forced forward. The Wolf leaped delicately out of the circle again, and the Hag stood high and tall. She began to draw lines in the dust, and at every line the fire crept up, until she was the only thing the fire did not touch, wreathing the strengthening figure of the White Witch without harming it.

"Cast her in," cried the Hag wildly, the light dancing on her skin, "and let her burn!"

The blinding whiteness faded from her eyes and Taira could see, as if through a mist, that the Four stood before her, noble and full-grown, Queen Susan's unbound black hair falling to her feet. Their crowns glittered with a faintly unnatural light, but there was a warm, good magic to it that soothed and cleansed her of the uncleanness caused by the alyen's fire.

She wondered, for a fleeting moment, if this was Aslan's country, then realised it did not quite matter.

Then King Edmund lifted a small Narnian flute, which she had once seen in a drawing, to his lips and released the first magical shower of notes.

The young Rabbit froze as her vision cleared completely. She had never heard truly good music before, only the dark, twisted type that encouraged cruel thoughts and destruction.

King Edmund continued to play, and her eyes closed. It was over. What she had done, she had done; and apparently Aslan had allowed her to enter his country, despite the little she had managed.

Finally she could relax.

The last note of the wondrous melody faded, and the Four looked at each other and laughed as she opened her eyes again.

"Thou wouldst not kidnap our small subject, royal brother?" asked Queen Lucy warmly. "Look at how she has fallen asleep listening to thy notes."

"Could I become a kidnapper, think you, royal sister?" he returned. "After all, for our friend Faun, 'twas to protect both himself and others that he acted."

"Dost thou recollect Mrs Beaver's wrath when she discovered the origin of the food that had sustained them all that time?" asked Queen Susan. "She was like to never make a marmalade roll again, because of the taint to the memory. Many thanks to you for convincing her otherwise, Queen Lucy."

Lucy's laugh was as musical as Edmund's playing, then she sobered.

"My royal siblings, I have heard grievous tidings of late, of those who plan to return the Witch to prominence."

Edmund shuddered. "I have heard the same."

"We must tell our loyal subjects," spoke High King Peter for the first time. "And warn them to be on their guard, for it is said she could always be returned."

"I," said King Edmund with near-violent passion, "will never cease to fight against the return of the White Witch."

And everything dissolved around her.

It had not been Aslan's country, after all. She was still beside two of them, children once more, though King Edmund held a flute similar to the Narnian style in hands softened by youth. Something of the quiet gravity was gone from his face, replaced by tenseness in the set of his shoulders.

"Ed, calm down," said Susan, putting a hand on his arm.

"Maybe I don't want to find out," he shot back, twitching his arm to remove her hand, before lifting the flute to his lips. "You'll never give me any peace if I don't, though," he spoke through the flute, the whistling sound softening the harshness of his voice.

He began to play, but the notes were wobbly and off. They held none of the crystalline beauty of Narnia, and he hesitated in his attempt, before ceasing the bitter farce.

"I said it would be like that, Su. I told you."

There was an expression of loss in his face, as if he had been offered something beautiful and had accepted it to find it hideous.

"I—I wasn't sure," she tried. "Maybe you should try again. You were just nervous, Ed, and—"

"I will never try again until we return."

"If we return," whispered his sister, so softly the eavesdropping Rabbit could scarcely hear it.

A shadow crossed Edmund's face, and he laid the flute aside before wrapping his arms around his sister. "We will. Aslan will make sure we do."

She smiled tremulously, and looked wistfully at his flute, eyes filled with tears.

A white coldness surrounded Taira as she was abruptly jerked back to the present from the strange dream she had once more had. The icy flames were eating away at her, paralysing her, and she could see the White Witch's form growing stronger.

She had failed. Her life would be used to more strongly tether the White Witch to the earth, and she would die having failed, in the most final way, Aslan and the tairen she had only ever sought to help.

So, I'm sorry about this chapter, too. It's poorly written, but it should clear up the mystery of the alyen and the tairen. One more chapter to go, tomorrow, and maybe after that I'll revamp and rewrite this whole thing, because it dreadfully needs it. Mainly this is supposed to be the climax of the story, and yet I can't see how you could really care about it.

My personal favourite bit is the response to the prompt. Think I'll play with that later, separately, probably.

Please review. Tell me what you liked and what you didn't. What I could have improved, what I couldn't've. Any plot holes. Tomorrow is the finale, and all I have to say for now is—not all hope is lost.