"Child…"

Blackness all around him. He wearily opened and closed his eyes, trying dazedly to see a difference between the shades of black that greeted him; it seemed as though when his eyes were open, the dark was strangely darker. His muscles were on fire. He felt so heavy…

"Child…"

A still, warm voice. Emanating strength and power it rushed forward, seeming to wrap itself around him and hold him. He gazed at it in wonder - it was a real, tangible light - a light that enveloped him and illuminated his surroundings.

His heart skipped a beat when he realized he was underwater.

He glanced upward in a panic, trying to see the surface. Why hadn't he drowned? He was so deep… A dull ache rippled through his body, causing him to cry out in the silence. His voice echoed.

"Edmund."

That blessed voice, cutting through the shadows and pulling him closer, pulling him upwards and toward a fate he knew nothing of, tugging him insistently toward the surface. As if he were in a trance, he began to drift slowly upward, peering through the darkness toward the glittering light. He vaguely noticed he was not breathing, yet he was awake and alive. He was not holding his breath - he had no breath. This didn't seem to matter - he just knew he had to get to the top. Whatever was calling him was up there, and that's where he needed to go.

Finally, he could see the gentle ripples emanating from the top of the pool, dancing and weaving in the shadows of the surface, and he saw a dark figure standing at the water's edge. Afraid to leave but afraid to stay, he pushed forward, his legs heavy and his arms numb. The pressure of the water upon his frame lightened as he closed his eyes, breaking through the surface.

He gasped as clean air filled his empty lungs - the purest oxygen that he had ever breathed - it all came rushing in, filling him completely. He opened his eyes, blinded by the too-bright sunshine that cascaded down through the tops of the trees. He blinked several times, stunned. A gentle chuckle rumbled through the air and the ground and shook the trees above, casting ripples in the water around him. Edmund looked up.

He was there. It was Him.

"Welcome home, Son of Adam."

His breathing was shallow and forced. Blood pooled at his side, soaking everything in the vicinity, including Peter. Peter cradled his brother's head in his hands, wanting to shake the life back into that paper white face, wanting to do something - anything - that would reverse the last ten minutes, that would erase the etchings of agony from that young face. He applied pressure on Edmund's abdomen, biting his lip not to cry out as hot blood seeped through his fingers, praying that it would be enough. Edmund was coughing blood now, staining his pallid face with crimson, his skin so starkly pale against the redness of blood and tunic. He cried out as pressure was applied, and Peter shook helplessly. He had never been so terrified.

"Aslan, please," he couldn't even work the words from his lips.

He was so very large.

Edmund was so very small. And cold. And wet. He remained where he was, standing in awestruck wonder drenched in the sparkling water of the pool, warmed by the presence of the Lion. He lowered his gaze to those mighty paws, his head almost even with them. "Aslan," he whispered. "I thought you…- the cherry Dryad…-" he looked up into The Lion's eyes, finding no resentment in them, only a warm joy. He couldn't speak.

"My Child," He said in a low voice, bending so low their noses might have touched. Edmund's heart began to beat rapidly. He saw the truth in His eyes, and it scorched his soul like wildfire. He saw his own shameful, fearful, sinful heart in those eyes, and it burned him to look. Edmund's eyes began to fill with tears, but he dared not turn away. The Lion looked into him steadily, closing His eyes and breathing over him. Edmund let out a small, shuddering gasp, his lids falling shut. "My Child," Aslan spoke in a mere whisper.

"It is finished."

Edmund suddenly found himself on the shoreline, cradled between the paws of a Lion, shaking with a bittersweet mixture of complete sorrow and joyful thankfulness. He could hear the jeering of a thousand wicked creatures. He could feel the tightness of ropes cutting into golden flesh. He could taste the wickedness hanging heavy in the breeze, smell the smoke of wicked fires. He could see Her, standing there above him, black blade between cold hands. He shook in Aslan's arms, tugging at the Mane in sheer heartache.

He felt a wet nose snuffling at his tear-soaked cheeks. He put his small, wicked hand to that golden face and lifted his eyes, holding his shaking breath. The words "I'm sorry" seemed so trite, and so unable to come close to affording what he owed The Lion. He cried, pressing his forehead against The Lion's face, the ice that still bound him now melting fully and completely in the golden light of His Savior's Sacrifice. "Aslan," he gasped after a long while. "Why?"

Aslan smiled.

"Because I Love you, Child."

He buried himself within the amber Mane of The Lion, softly stroking it while tears of debt and sheer, inexpressible gratitude stained his face; Edmund was entirely and hopelessly lost in a sea of golden Love.

He could have sworn Aslan purred.

"Edmund, no," Peter mouthed, feeling the sickly chill of a bloodless face. The freckles stood out dark as night against ashen skin, pulled tight across its agonized features. Peter held a lifeless hand while Lucy dropped to his side, shaking and tearful, administering her cordial. Susan sat unmoving, paralyzed with fear as she ran her fingers anxiously through Edmund's thick raven hair. Edmund's hollow breaths grew less and less, until there was no rasping to be heard. Peter watched, his heart stopping in his chest as all of time froze. "No," he whispered, letting the limp hand drop from his own. He placed his ear to Edmund's chest, searching for a pulse. "NO!"

With a jerk of realization, Edmund sat up, fingers tangled in the Lion's Mane. "Aslan," he started, suddenly fearful. He touched his chest, feeling a loss. Aslan nuzzled him with his nose, planting a soft kiss in his dark hair. "Child?" He rumbled. Edmund shifted, turning his eyes to His in trepidation. "Aslan, have I….am I….?" He swallowed hard, looking around at the trees and the grass and the pools of light. They were more vivid and alive than anything he had ever seen. Aslan lowered His head, sadly looking back at him. Edmund was stunned. How could he have just…

He swallowed hard. "What…what about the others?" Aslan rumbled gently, pulling him close. Fresh tears stung his eyes, causing him to blink rapidly. "My Child, you have passed. Your body no longer holds you. You are in the Wood between the Worlds, the place between all worlds and Mine."

He was stunned. He felt no more pain. No more cold…

"Child, you have proven yourself to Narnia, and you have followed Me in giving yourself as the ultimate sacrifice. Edmund, you are welcome in My Country."

Edmund shook his head, his chest tight. He sat in stunned silence for some time, listening to the soft, patient taps of Aslan's tail upon the lush grass. "But Aslan," he whispered finally, "I don't want to go. I mean, I do want to go. I don't deserve anything so beautiful as this. But Aslan, I don't want to leave them…" He closed his eyes, nervously running his hands through his hair.

Expecting to see the face of His Savior's disappointment, he raised his eyes to be greeted only with the face of Love. "Edmund," Aslan purred, a gentle laugh shaking the sky. "Go. We will meet here again soon."

Hope overwhelmed him. He dared to touch His Mane once more, savoring the tingle of warmth upon his fingertips. "How soon is "soon"?"

Aslan rose with a very cat-like smile.

"My Child, I call all times 'soon'."

With a roar that surely uprooted those ancient trees and shook the sun down from the sky, Edmund was thrown back into the water that enveloped him in its blackness. He sank lower and lower, away from the Lion and away from the light of the Wood. His pain crept back, surrounding him and binding him like fetters as he sank. He began to choke on the black water, feeling the pressure that buried him as his consciousness melted into nothing.

He coughed.

A blinding light filled his vision as he cracked open one eye, brought back into a world of pain and suffering. He choked on the foul air, full of blood and the stench of war, gasping for breath as he tore at the grass beneath his fingers. He was real. Alive. He felt only a dull throbbing where he had been stabbed, and he opened his eyes to be greeted with three familiar faces.

He had no time to register this before he was enveloped again in darkness - this time, Peter's chest. His brother was sobbing, clutching Edmund to his chest and openly weeping. Little time passed before all three of them were surrounding him, and Edmund did his best to embrace some small part of them, to verify that they were real, when a warm breeze stirred the grass around them. Edmund sat up, staring into the face of his Savior, who gave him a very slow, pleased nod.

They made his heart feel alive.