A/N: This is the last chapter! Just an epilogue to go and we're finally done after... over two years... I'm sorry, I suck. Anyway, hope you guys like it.

Setting Things Right

Peter looked at his brother solemnly. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

A sceptical glance at the horde of unfamiliar shapes shifting in the shadows was the only sign of indecision Edmund showed before nodding purposefully. "Alright. We'll take Oreius with us too, just to be safe." He smiled a little as though enjoying a private joke. "I can't imagine them not taking us seriously with a Centaur standing at our side."

Peter raised his hand to tousle his brother's hair, taking care not to jostle him too much due to his injury. "Are you sure you don't want to go and see Lucy first?"

Edmund shook his head. "I don't want to risk the Giants completely destroying the castle because we wasted precious time. Come on, let's find Oreius and get this over with."

Seeing them start to leave without him, Tigran dug his elbow sharply into Brook's ribs and used his temporary surprise to wrestle his hand away from his mouth. "Hey, I'm coming too!"

Edmund's eyes flashed as he turned around. "I beg your pardon?" he demanded in a tone sharp enough to cut through steel.

"With all due respect, I must insist that I accompany you as well. I spent enough time around those brutes to get an insight into how they think. My knowledge could well be invaluable to you." All this was said without one glance in Edmund's direction.

Looking more than a little bemused, Peter inclined his head. "Fair enough. You might be right." He shrugged his shoulders as Edmund shot him a look of betrayal. "It can't hurt, Ed. Do you think you two could refrain from upsetting each other at least until this is all over?"

"Sure, sounds good," Tigran said airily. Zia only just stopped herself from slapping the smug expression right off his face.

Edmund curled his lip and for a moment looked as though he would do exactly that. Standing equidistant from each of them, Zia felt the air physically thicken with whatever it was the two boys were leaving unsaid. It was enough to make her want to knock their heads together in order to force some sense into them. After several excruciating moments of silence, Edmund was the one to finally back down. He took a step away from Tigran towards Zia and took her face between his hands, handling her like she was made of glass that had already begun to crack.

"As soon as this is over we'll find a way to get your eye fixed, I promise," he said.

"You're not leaving me here," she replied, trying to sound firm. It was hard to be forceful with him when his eyes were too large and dark against his skin, which was paling into an alarming shade of grey. "You're already weak. What if they decide to attack us again?"

"They won't," he said with an air of confidence that wasn't reflected in his expression. "None of us can afford to be distracted from the real threat here. If that happens, we're finished."

Over Edmund's shoulder, Zia's eyes were inexplicably drawn to Tigran, who instantly shifted his gaze across the hall without even blinking. He had been staring at her with a disturbing gleam in his dark eyes. She watched as Brook laid a hand on his shoulder, prompting Tigran's thin lips to morph into a somewhat poor imitation of his signature smirk as Brook ruffled his hair and smiled.

Zia quickly brought her attention back to Edmund before he could guess at exactly where it had been wandering. "Fine, but for Aslan's sake be careful."

"You worry too much." He swiftly ducked down to kiss her nose. He pulled away before she could change her mind, throwing one last wink over his shoulder as he jogged to catch up with Peter and Oreius. Tigran immediately disentangled himself from Brook and hurried to follow them. As the small group made their way across the wide hall, their steps echoing eerily in the hush that had now descended, Zia stepped over to Brook's side and nudged him lightly with her shoulder. It was time to get to the bottom of this whole unpleasant business, and if anyone knew what was going on in Tigran's head, it would be Brook.

"Do you have any idea what's going on with those two?" she asked, leaning close to his ear so that her words wouldn't travel. "Lately they seem like they constantly want to tear each other's throats out."

Brook shrugged, shifting his gaze to the floor. "Tigran's very up front about his feelings. Sometimes he blows things way out of proportion just by getting a little too carried away."

Unconvinced by his feeble words, Zia attempted to get him to look at her, but only succeeded in causing a blush to seep along Brook's cheekbones. The colour was barely perceptible on his tan skin, but still very much there. Spurred by his reaction, Zia asked, "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Not that I'm aware." He had begun to trace the pattern on the marble floor with his big toe, moving it with concise accuracy and a certain daintiness that was somewhat mesmerising.

Zia huffed. "I can tell you're lying."

"Really? I didn't think you were capable of seeing things that are right under your nose." His head jerked up, revealing a sharp glint in his eyes and the angry flush in his cheeks she had earlier mistaken for embarrassment.

"What?" Her voice had risen in pitch and she sensed the movement of several people standing close by turning to stare at her. Thankfully Susan had moved off to stand near the front of the group and was well out of earshot. "What on earth are you talking about?"

She thought he was going to grab hold of her shoulders and shake her like a rag doll, but instead his fingers closed around her arm and he roughly pulled her towards the corner opposite the staircase she and Susan had descended on the way down from the battlements. Brook's grip was tight enough to make her wince but still she didn't struggle, knowing full well he was stronger and would only hurt her more if she tried to escape. Even as she told herself this, something inside her was commanding her to fight back, to make him let her go and to hurt him for treating her this way. Desperately she shoved the urges down, remembering the last time she had given herself over to her instincts. Her nails were still crusted with blood where they had broken through Tigran's skin.

As soon as they were far enough away from the rest of the Narnians for them not to be able to hear their conversation, Brook released her and pressed the fingers on both hands to his temples. Zia rubbed the tender flesh where he had grabbed her. Long, slender bruises that perfectly matched the shapes of his fingers were already beginning to bloom. The bruises she had seen decorating Edmund's body after a particularly brutal (but still friendly) sparring match with Peter were always an ugly, mottled shade of purple when they were fresh, but the ones forming under her skin were a dark and sickly yellow. Curious, she prodded one of them and bit her lip against a yelp.

Hearing her sharp intake of breath, Brook lowered his hands from his face and finally looked her in the eyes. The rage was gone, as if by magic, leaving remorse and fatigue in its place. "I'm sorry." It was unclear whether he was apologising for the bruises or for his temper. Zia stayed still, watching his face as he struggled to put the thoughts in his head into coherent sentences. "I shouldn't have done that. It's just so frustrating for me to see him like this because of you. I guess I overreacted."

"Hold on," Zia said abruptly, "did you just say Tigran's behaving like an obnoxious brat because of me?"

"Basically, yes."

"How is it my fault?" she spluttered.

The Dryad tilted his head so that his eyes caught the light of a nearby candle, lending them an iridescent shine that highlighted the countless shades of green inside the irises. His eyes were the colour of spring, and yet full of a gentle sadness that contradicted their vibrancy.

"You really don't know?" he asked in a voice so soft she barely heard it. His expression made Zia certain she was missing something obvious.

"Why can't you just tell me what's going on?"

With a rueful smile, Brook finally lowered his gaze. Zia felt herself deflate as though his eyes had been pinning her against a wall with no way of escape.

"It's not my place to say," he explained. "Tigran will tell you when he's ready – if you let him."

"Why wouldn't I let him?" The conversation was tiring her out – Brook refused to stop speaking in riddles and she was no closer to getting a straight answer out of him than she had been five minutes ago.

Brook lifted his shoulders. "Look, just give him chance to speak when he finally plucks up the courage. He may not be afraid to let you know when he's angry about something, but sentiment isn't his strong suit. He prefers to attack things full on rather than get emotionally involved."

Zia passed a hand over her face, feeling a dull ache throbbing into life above her right eye. If she had thought matters were complicated before, it was nothing compared to the mess facing her now. Brook's shoulders had begun to sag as though his unhappiness was physically weighing him down. She had never seen him like this before and it had all started when they'd begun talking about Tigran – Tigran and his feelings. The way Brook spoke sounded like he'd had first-hand experience wrestling with that particular Dryad's private emotions and getting him to come to terms with them – or at least admit he had them in the first place. Added to the fact that Brook kept trying to subtly peer over her shoulder in the direction Tigran and the Kings had taken and it almost appeared that…

"Brook, do you have feelings for Tigran?"

The blond Dryad's mouth fell open. In the following twenty seconds the only sounds that came from his mouth were fragments of sentences and garbled words and choking noises, whilst his cheeks steadily grew redder and redder until they matched Zia's hair. She crossed her arms over her chest, knowing without confirmation that she had reached the jackpot. Eventually he snapped his mouth shut and instead pinched the bridge of his nose, taking slow, ragged breaths to calm himself down. Zia waited patiently for him to finish, trying not to let her lips morph into a satisfied smile at his disorientation.

Serves him right, cackled a voice that wasn't hers. Zia dug her teeth harshly into the inside of her lip, focusing on the pain in order to drive the malicious thought away. She had never truly taken Alexandra seriously when the physician had explained what might happen if she stayed away from her tree for too long, but now she was sure she could physically feel her sanity start to degrade like the bark on the underside of a fallen trunk. The darkest parts of her conscience were beginning to draw together, forming a cloud of anger, spite and jealousy thick enough to interrupt her thought patterns and alter her conscious movements and make her behave like – well, like she was possessed. If she didn't stop herself soon, there was no way of knowing what she would do – or who she would hurt.

When Brook lowered his hand from his face, his eyes had taken on a wide, vulnerable expression. Part of her felt guilty for broaching what was clearly a sensitive subject, whilst the rest was merely relieved she was still capable of feeling guilt.

"Don't tell him," Brook pleaded. "I don't know what I would do if he found out."

Zia blinked. "But you two seem so close, surely he must -?"

Brook laughed – a hard, bitter sound devoid of humour. "Surely he must know? Really, Zia. Did you not listen to anything I just said?"

"But surely if you just talked to him about it he'd understand. He might even feel the same."

The other Dryad sneered. "By the Mane, you're so naïve. If Tigran ever discovered what I feel for him, at best he would never speak to me again. At worst he would try and kill me. There's no room in between those things for him to come even remotely close to feeling the same way I do."

Zia's fingers curled into fists; before it had been an automatic reaction for when an argument was brought to boiling point, but now she found herself wrestling back the urge to launch herself at Brook and claw at his face with her fingernails.

"I refuse to believe that," she said adamantly. Her hands had begun to tremble; she crushed them against her ribs before she could lose control. "Tigran may be arrogant and self-righteous and egotistical but he's not a bad person. Plus you and he have been friends for years. He would never dream of hurting you in any way."

Brook's next words came out in a near-whisper. "You don't know him. You don't know him at all."

Before she could reply, the blast of a horn split the air. The sound was harsh and menacing like a declaration of war and definitely hadn't come from any Narnian horn. All eyes turned their attention to the centre of the room where two Humans and a Centaur stood facing their people. Their faces were set and determined, and behind them the crowd of Minotaurs, Boggles and Black Dwarves all bore similar expressions. A weight instantly lifted from Zia's chest; the negotiations had gone well and, together with their new allies, they were going to face the Giants.

Peter, Edmund and Oreius met Zia, Brook and Susan in front of the Narnians, who were methodically organising themselves back into ranks without being told to do so. Although Edmund had suffered the worst injuries by far, his face and voice were animated enough to bring statues to life as he quickly explained the plan he had mapped out in his head.

"The Captain has agreed to lead his troops straight out the front door and cause a distraction to give the rest of us time to sneak out the back. Some of us will use the secret gate that leads into the woods in order to come at the Giants from a different angle, and the rest will try and draw them away from the Cair to the bottom of the hill. If all goes to plan, we'll have them surrounded and they'll be far easier to take down. The Captain has also given us permission to use his army's catapults – they're positioned to the right and left of the castle about halfway between the gates and the forest." Edmund rubbed his hands together, clearly excited with the prospect of putting his plan into action. "Does anyone have any questions so far?"

"I have one."

Edmund turned to Brook, confusion flitting across his face at hearing the Dryad speak up. "Yes, what is it?"

"What the hell have you done with Tigran?"

For several moments the whole group was silent. Panic began to grow in Zia's chest – the very same panic that was turning Brook's features into a mask of horror. At first Tigran's absence hadn't registered with her at all – she had assumed he had detached himself from the others in order to relay the plan to the Narnian soldiers. Judging from Peter's sheepish expression, that clearly wasn't the case. The High King reached back to drag a hand through his hair, a guilty gesture he shared with his brother.

"Seeing as Tigran was once second-in-command of the Witch's army, they demanded we return him to them on the grounds that he is to become the next leader now the General has abandoned them," he clarified. "They don't yet know it was Tigran who killed him and we'll just have to hope that they don't find out."

"He's perfectly safe as long as he keeps his mouth shut and does as he's told," Edmund put in helpfully.

Brook stared at the Just King for several moments without blinking. "Did he at least agree to give himself over to the enemy?"

Peter nodded fervently, relieved that another argument seemed to have been avoided. "He knows the plan and has accepted his role. He's awaiting our instruction as we speak."

Scepticism remained obstinately in Brook's expression but he said nothing more, allowing Edmund to continue giving out his instructions. Once they were all clear on what was about to happen, the group split off into ones and twos and headed off to take up their respective positions. Before Edmund could disappear into the mass of soldiers, Zia grabbed the wrist of his good arm and pulled him round to face her.

"Are you going to see sense and get Lucy to look at your shoulder before we do this?"

"I'm starting to think you doubt me," he replied with a smile.

Zia sighed irritably. "I just don't want to see you get even more badly hurt because you're so intent on being some kind of martyr."

"Ouch." He pressed his hand dramatically over his heart, pouting even as he struggled to hold off a grin.

"Would you just take this seriously for a minute?" Zia exclaimed, exasperated by his theatrics when they were on the outskirts of a warzone. "Every time either of us go into battle I'm scared to death that I'll never see you again, or find you lying in a forgotten corner slowly bleeding to death, or -"

Edmund cut her off with a kiss. His fingers tangled in her hair, gentle yet possessive and suddenly Zia realised that he was just as frightened of losing her as she was of losing him. She wrapped her arms around his waist to pull him closer, holding him against her body with as much strength as she could muster. It seemed an age before he carefully pulled away, still running strands of her hair through his fingers. His eyes told her how much he hated goodbyes and that he refused to let this be one. With a slight nod of understanding she drew back, trying to ignore the sensation of her heart dropping as she released him.

"See you soon."

Although she tried her hardest to push it away, Zia couldn't help but sense a false promise behind his words.

As per Edmund's instructions, Susan, Zia and the other archers joined the party launching a surprise attack from inside the forest by leaving the castle through the back gate – the very same gate Zia had watched Edmund disappear through the night she followed him from the beach. Nostalgic memories caused her fingers to reach out and lightly brush the loops of tarnished metal before she remembered where she was and what they were doing and hurriedly retracted her hand.

Dusk had fallen and shadows bunched together around the trees, concealing protruding roots and rabbit holes from view as they crept along the outside of the stone wall towards the front of the castle. Distant roars and the clash of metal reached their ears, though the stillness of the night muffled every sound, including their own footsteps. They didn't especially need to be quiet, the chaos already masked their approach enough for them not to be detected even without taking into account the relative stupidity of their adversaries, but the Narnians found a sense of comfort in making sure there was truly no way they could be spotted until it was too late.

Before they rounded the final corner that wound bring them into view of the Giants, Edmund brought the company to a halt. Zia was too far back to see the King, but she could picture the optimistic grin that would be on his face as he and Oreius shook hands and wished each other luck. Her heart ached for the chance to see that grin one more time, but instead she could only smile encouragingly at Susan, who was by her side and looking as determined and elegant as ever. She had underestimated how much of a comfort the eldest Queen had come to be; the smile she offered in return mirrored the one Nina would have given her to help quell her anxiety. She made a mental note to thank Susan later just as the single, familiar note of a Narnian horn made her jump and the youngest of the Pevensie brothers led the party into battle.

The carnage left behind by struggle that had already taken place in front of the Cair was horrendous. Fresh bodies had been added to the ones accumulated from the earlier fight; wounds still dripped blood onto the courtyard's cobblestones, staining them red. The ground was damp and slick with fluid, turning the Narnians' charge into a desperate scramble to keep their footing as they got closer to the centre of the fight. Most of Tigran's army were still standing, including Tigran himself, though their numbers appeared visibly depleted. They had managed to fell two of the Giants already, bringing down most of the castle's surrounding wall along with them.

Of the two dozen Giants that had originally marched for the Cair, eight had been stopped by the archers' arrows, three were buried by the torrent of stone brought down by the destruction of one of the castle's towers and two had been killed by the Narnians' new allies. A further half a dozen of them seemed to have wandered off of their own accord after becoming hungry or bored, leaving the five most resolute still diligently attempting to bring the Cair to its knees. So far Tigran's strategy seemed to revolve around targeting one Giant at a time whilst trying not to get crushed under the others' stampeding feet. There weren't enough soldiers to do this effectively and make use of the catapults at the same time, resulting in numerous casualties and extremely slow progress.

As soon as Edmund's party broke out of the trees, the soldiers already in battle increased their efforts tenfold. Zia marvelled at the peculiarity of seeing creatures that had been their most feared opponents fight side by side with Peter and Edmund, and was struck with the thought that, had the White Witch never come to power, there would have been no rivalry between Fauns and Minotaurs at all. Maybe the notion of all Narnians living in peace together wasn't so hopeless after all.

A yell from somewhere to her left brought Zia back to reality. Susan and the archers who were able to climb were moving with the intention of using the trees as a vantage point from which to shoot. The Centaurs and those unable to climb had already set off to join the battle on the ground. The shout Zia had heard was Susan commanding her to hurry up and start climbing. She quickly obeyed. The slightly painful sensation of rough bark scraping against her palms and the soles of her feet seemed to bring new life to her limbs, allowing her to reach the highest branches of her chosen tree within seconds. The air smelled far less foul this high up; Zia breathed as much of it into her lungs as they would allow and scanned the ground for signs of Edmund. He had located a crossbow and was hurriedly tying a length of rope to the shaft of a bolt. Several Dwarves were doing the same, their stubby fingers working at an astounding pace to secure the knots.

Loud rustling in the tree beside hers alerted Zia to the fact that the others had now reached their positions. The Fauns were surprisingly adept at climbing trees and many looked very pleased with themselves as they prepared their bows. Susan had barely given the command before their arrows were flying towards the nearest Giant, who up until that point had been throwing huge rocks at the Cair's stained glass windows. He let out a bellow of surprise as the arrows found his chest, the sheer force of the onslaught knocking him off his feet. The earth shuddered as his behind connected with it, prompting the archers to cling to their trees for dear life as they swayed violently.

At the top of the slope, Edmund's plan to bring down one of the Giants was being put into action. He, several Dwarves and a couple of Centaurs (including Davlon, who was back on his feet and looking healthier than ever) had formed a circle around it, aiming their crossbows at the flabby expanse of its chest and arms. Before the Giant could work out what was happening, the bolts were buried deep beneath his skin and the ropes were being tugged, yanking him off balance and bringing him crashing down onto his back. Stunned and winded from the fall, he lay completely still and Edmund seized the opportunity to send his troops scrambling up onto the heaving chest to deliver a round of fatal blows.

Up in the branches, the archers cheered. There were only three Giants left standing and it appeared as though the end was in sight. Zia twisted round on her branch to grin at Susan, but her exuberance quickly melted into horror at the look of pure fear in the Queen's eyes. The warning had barely left Susan's mouth before the world gave a sickening lurch, sending Zia tumbling down towards the ground below.

The Giant who had seized the tree next to Susan's was by far the biggest of the lot. He towered above the treetops and blocked out half the sky. Susan heard her own scream as though it came from miles away as the Giant drew back his arm and sent his makeshift javelin hurtling towards the castle. Susan watched in horror, unable to look away and below the entire battle came to a standstill as time seemed to slow down. Luckily, Giants had exceptionally poor aims. The root-end of the tree barely grazed the white stone, leaving a jagged hole in the west wing before continuing its journey and vanishing out of sight.

The Gentle Queen let out a breath of relief. The hole would take a lot of effort to repair, but considering the damage that could have been done, they had been exceptionally lucky. She prayed that luck would hold until all the Giants were dead.

With a grunt of frustration, the Giant that had thrown the tree reached down to grasp another, but this time he didn't get very far. The forest suddenly exploded with movement, whoops and yells as seemingly every Dryad in Western Wood leapt out from under the trees. Tigran's clan of expert swordsmen charged straight at the Giant's feet, jeering and taunting as they dodged his flailing limbs in a wild dance that was almost impossible to follow. Meanwhile Maia and her female archers used the Giant's distraction to form a wide circle around him and send an endless stream of arrows towards his chest, neck and face, and all the while more and more Dryads came hurtling out of nowhere to join the fight. It seemed luck was definitely on their side that night.

Seeing their third comrade fall sent the remaining two Giants into a frenzy. Their enraged bellows caused the very air to tremble whilst Centaurs, Minotaurs and Dryads alike scurried out of range of their feet and fists. Susan heard Edmund call out, but his words were completely drowned out by the noise. She turned to see her archers clutching the tree trunks, their eyes wide with terror beneath their curly hair. She called out to them, urging them to climb down, but fear and panic had rendered them unable to move. Susan gripped the branch underneath her with grim determination. If they couldn't get themselves down, she wasn't going anywhere either.

Edmund's voice reached Susan's ears for the second time before a deafening sound like the crack of a whip cut through the air. The Gentle Queen barely had enough time to turn towards the source of the noise before an enormous boulder fell from the sky, collided with a Giant's head and sent him careening sideways into his comrade. Their limbs became tangled instantly, sending them both toppling in a mess of thrashing arms and kicking legs. A chorus of victory shouts erupted from below as the Giants tried in vain to free themselves from each other before they were overwhelmed by cheering Narnians and their misery was swiftly put to an end.

After taking a moment to catch her breath, Susan carefully inched her way down from the boughs of the tree. Her knees almost buckled as her feet made contact with the ground, but she managed to stay upright. Her archers gathered around her, and as the pounding in her ears subsided she became aware that, although pale and shaken, all of them were alive and unhurt. All except one.

"Where's Zia?"

Susan turned to face her younger brother as he stumbled towards her, clutching his left arm with blood-soaked fingers. He took one look at her face and turned even paler beneath the grime coating his skin, as though there wasn't a drop of blood left in his body. Susan caught him just as he collapsed, lowering him to the ground before starting to strip him of his armour.

"Where is she?" he asked again. His eyes were bright as if with fever, his voice coming out as barely a whisper despite his best efforts to speak.

"Don't move," Susan commanded sternly. The grip Edmund had on her arm was surprisingly strong considering he was only half-conscious. "You'll make yourself worse."

"Edmund!" Tigran appeared out of nowhere and dropped down beside the King, his eyes raking over Edmund's broken body. Susan was too shocked to protest as the Dryad took her brother's hand and clutched it as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded. "Where is she, Edmund? Tell me!"

Edmund could only shake his head, groaning at the bolts of pain shooting down his arm with the movement. With an anguished cry, Tigran dropped his head onto Edmund's chest, barely noticing the warm fluid smearing across his skin as he did so. The Dryad began to shake and didn't resist Susan's touch as she took him by the shoulders and lifted him away from her brother. His grip on Edmund's hand didn't relinquish and Susan had to physically pry his fingers off before making him stand up. To her relief, she saw Brook coming towards them, but the look on his face soon replaced the relief with dread.

"Your majesty, we've found Zia. She -"

Tigran stirred at Brook's voice and with a small cry Brook gathered his best friend into his arms, using the last of his remaining strength to keep Tigran upright. Brook's eyes locked with Susan's and an unspoken understanding passed between them.

"I'll take care of Edmund," Susan said gently. "But I think it will be best we don't tell him until he's well enough. There's no telling what the shock will do to him, especially while he's in this state."

Brook nodded. "Maia's with her now. She's home." He shifted Tigran's limp body until his friend's head lay more comfortably on his shoulder before turning away. "Which is where we should be going," he said, speaking softly into the blonde's hair.

"Wait!" Susan called after him. "I - I'm very grateful to you both. Be sure to tell him that when he wakes up."

Brook returned Susan's smile, though he could scarcely bring himself to look at her whilst tears flowed freely down her face. "It has been an honour, my queen. Farewell."

Wake up, my child.

Zia screwed her eyes up in protest to the voice that was suddenly inside her head. Where had it come from? There had only been white noise in there before and she had been enjoying the peace. But the voice was familiar, deep and rich, as though it came from the earth itself. She curled her hands into fists, her skin dragging over something soft and grainy that sifted through her fingers like sand. She slowly became aware of a salty tang in the air and the fact that her mouth tasted like dry cotton. It was this realisation that finally persuaded her eyes to open.

The first thing she saw was an expanse of blue sky dotted here and there with delicate wisps of white. The blue was unlike any she had ever seen, and the brightness of the sun was enough to make her eyes ache, though it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. There was something strange about what she was seeing, something that didn't make sense, but her thoughts were too hazy to pinpoint what it was. She shifted her fingers again, grabbing a handful of whatever she was lying on and lifting it to her face. It wassand, though not the brownish yellow kind that was on the beach she used to visit with the boy. This sand was almost pure white and so fine that almost all of it had fallen through the gaps in her fingers in the time it had taken to raise her hand. If this was sand, the sea ought not to be far away.

"I see you're finally awake."

There was that voice again, only this time it hadn't come from inside her mind. Turning her head, she caught sight of something glistening on the horizon. So she had been right, this was a beach, and what she had thought was white noise was actually the sound of waves. What was she doing on a beach? She was certain she had never been here before, even if the rest of her thoughts were still a little fuzzy. What was going on?

She pushed herself into a sitting position, feeling a tingling rush of energy flood her body. It felt like waking up for the first time after months of hibernation, though if that was the case then she must have overslept – the temperature was far too warm for spring. Why hadn't Nina woken her?

Before she could ponder this question further, a deep rumble came from behind her. Startled, she twisted around to find the source, and her arms almost gave out in surprise.

Standing before her was the biggest lion she had ever seen – not that she'd seen many lions, they weren't very common in Narnia. Narnia? What was that? Her thoughts were contradicting themselves, and all the while the Lion just stood and watched her, its amber eyes shining like molten gold in the sunlight.

Though her mind was full of questions, the one that came out of her mouth first was, "Where am I?"

The Lion smiled, though how she could tell it was smiling, Zia didn't know. "You are at the very End of the World, my child."

There must have been some kind of magic at work, for Zia felt none of the panic she ought to have felt upon hearing those words. Instead, she calmly asked, "Am I dead?"

At this, the Lion made a very un-Lion-like sound that Zia could have sworn was a chuckle. "No, dear one. If you were dead, you would not be here. If you were dead, you would be on the other side of those mountains."

Zia followed the Lion's gaze and felt something lurch inside her chest. In the distance, far out to the east beyond the sun, was a mountain range. The moment she set eyes on it, Zia was sure the mountain range couldn't possibly belong to the living world. For although the mountains were so tall that they blocked out the sky, there was not one patch of snow on their lush green faces.

"Aslan's country," she whispered. She turned back to the Lion, who had now resumed watching her with sombre eyes. "Hello Aslan."

Aslan inclined his head. His beautiful tawny mane caught the light and scattered it in different directions almost like a diamond would, and yet it looked so soft that Zia longed to bury her hands in it. She restrained herself for fear that doing so would be disrespectful, instead scrambling to her feet so she could curtsey.

"If you don't mind my asking, sire," she said hesitantly, "what am I doing here?"

"I have brought you here because there is something I must ask you," Aslan replied. Behind the resonant tones of his powerful voice, there was a deep, humble sadness that would have broken Zia's heart had she been able to feel any sort of pain at all.

"Anything," she said.

The Great Lion approached her, his enormous paws making no sound on the soft sand. The closer he got, the bigger and more terrifying he looked, but still Zia didn't feel particularly afraid. Even his wickedly sharp claws and terrible teeth didn't frighten her and yet there was something about him that made her feel a tiny bit nervous. She knew without a doubt that he could tear her to pieces if he chose to and she wouldn't even have time to scream. The kindness in his eyes reassured her that he would do nothing of the sort, but that didn't mean she shouldn't give him the utmost respect.

When he was close enough for Zia to count his whiskers, Aslan stopped walking and folded his back legs beneath him, sitting on the sand like a tame cat. He never once removed his eyes from Zia's, and though she couldn't bear to hold his gaze, Zia felt like she had no other choice.

"The question I must ask you, dear one, is perhaps the most simple of all questions and yet it is the most complex at the same time. Do you think you can answer it truthfully?"

Biting her lip, Zia nodded. "I'll try my best."

"Then here it is: Are you happy?"

At first, Zia could only stare. Surely Aslan knew the answer to that? Here at the End of the World, with the sun beating down on white sand and the waves crashing in the distance, how could anyone be anything but happy? Then it started to dawn on her; the answer to that question wasn't so simple after all. Up until now her thoughts had been pleasantly quiet, like puffs of cloud drifting slowly through her mind, but now they began to grow in volume and clarity until the noise in her head was like a waterfall pounding relentlessly against her skull. Aslan remained completely still as images of everything that had happened in the past six years flashed through her brain like bolts of lightning. Seeing Edmund at the beach. The look on Nina's face when she saw the Pevensies. Dancing with Edmund at the Solstice party. Watching the White Witch's army destroy Dancing Lawn. Seeing Edmund again. Nina's death. Saving Edmund's life. Watching Pelerine die in Davlon's arms. Edmund kissing her for the first time. Tigran telling her Breejit was dead. Laying on the beach with Edmund. Tigran trying to persuade her to go back with him. Edmund telling her he loved her. Edmund. Edmund, Edmund, Edmund!

The thud of her knees hitting the sand was enough to finally wrench her from the whirlpool of memories threatening to drown her. She clutched both sides of her head between her hands, rocking forward until her forehead rested on her trembling knees. She stayed like that for an immeasurable length of time, sucking down lungfuls of cool air until the nausea subsided and she could think clearly once again.

When she raised her head, Aslan was lying down with his front legs stretched out in front of him, his paws almost brushing her knees. Taking another deep, shaky breath, Zia rose unsteadily to her feet and watched as Aslan did the same. His eyes were full of compassion and love, and Zia had a feeling he knew what she was thinking.

"Do not be afraid, child," said Aslan gently. "You must do what you think is right. This decision is yours to make, and yours alone."

Gazing out towards the distant ocean, Zia let Aslan's words sink through her skin and nestle in her heart, and in doing so she felt a new determination flood her body. It suddenly dawned on her that she could see the entire expanse of glittering water where it stretched from one end of the horizon to the other; she was no longer blind. Lifting her arms, she realised that the wounds the Harpy had inflicted on her had completely healed. For some reason this didn't surprise her – there was no way to underestimate Aslan's power.

When she looked at the Lion again, her jaw was set. "I think you already know the answer to the question you asked," she said. "And I think – no, I'm certain – you know what it is I'm going to say next."

Aslan smiled. "I do indeed. As long as it is what you want, then I will continue to watch over you and be content in the knowledge that you are doing what makes you happy."

Zia nodded. "I will be happy, Aslan. I promise."

"In that case," said the Lion, "I will open a door for you, and you will return to Narnia with my blessing."

"Thank you." Her eyes followed the lines and contours of his beautiful face once again, and this time a feeling of inescapable sadness settled over her heart.

Aslan seemed to guess what she was thinking. "This may be the first and last time we meet, but that doesn't mean you won't see me again. I will always be with you, my child."

"Can I -?" she asked, reaching tentatively for him. He gave a gentle nod, tilting his head to allow her to bury her hands beneath the honey strands of his mane. She had never felt anything so gloriously soft and she never would again. Up close, Aslan's mane smelled of tulips and sweet grass – of springtime and of home. She felt his chest rumble and realised a moment later that he was purring.

Laughing, she withdrew her hands. Aslan shook out his mane, looking at her knowingly as if waiting for her to say something he had already heard in her thoughts.

"Okay Aslan, I'm ready," she said. Her chest swelled with a mixture of sorrow for what she would be leaving behind and anticipation for what was to come.

Aslan smiled one last time, and lifted his muzzle to blow gently on her face. "Then it is time to say goodbye."