A/N – And Then There Were Three

Chapter 15 is up!
This one marks the beginning of the end for the reposted content. Tensions are shifting, pieces are moving, and the path ahead is growing narrower—for all of them.

If you've been here since the early drafts, this chapter might feel familiar... but with a few new layers beneath the surface. If you're reading for the first time—buckle in.

We're one chapter away from stepping intocompletely new territory, and I'm beyond excited to share what's coming next.

As always, thank you for reading, commenting, reviewing, and joining me on this journey.
Next update:Chapter 16—aka, the last of the old.

All rights to the world and characters of Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis and his estate.

Chapter 15 - The Harvest and the Signs

Eleanor's POV

The night felt wrong.

I had grown used to Narnian nights—the crisp clarity of the stars, the way the sky stretched wide and endless, the sense of something ancient always watching.

But tonight? Tonight felt suffocated.

Thick clouds refused to part, swallowing the sky whole, and the air clung to my skin, too warm for the season. Allyri walked beside me, silent and tense. Even her usual confidence seemed dimmed by the unnatural atmosphere.

The Dancing Lawn spread before us, an open glade surrounded by trees. Torches lined the edges, flickering wildly in the gusts of wind, struggling to stay lit.

But what caught my attention wasn't the setting. It was the people.

I had expected centaurs—this was their tradition, a practice passed through generations.

But they weren't alone.

Nymphs stood near the torches, their translucent forms shifting with the firelight. Fauns adjusted their instruments, preparing to play. A few talking beasts—wolves, badgers, even a large, black-feathered raven—waited in unusual stillness.

"I thought this was a centaur tradition?" I murmured.

"It is," Allyri replied, scanning the gathering. "But when the moon is full, we are not the only ones who listen."

Her words did little to ease the tightness in my chest.

And then I saw Casio.

The Captain of the King's Army stood at the edge of the Lawn, arms crossed. He wasn't watching the gathering—he was watching me.

That familiar look of disapproval burned across the space between us.

I straightened, lifting my chin. He didn't matter tonight.

The wind whipped through the glade, the torches struggling against it. And still, no one spoke.

They were all looking up.

I followed their gaze. Not a single star. Only blackness.

"They're waiting for the moon," I realized.

"She always shows herself," Allyri said. But even she didn't sound convinced.

Beside me, Phaelis—the oldest centaur present—turned her head, her expression unreadable.

"Because the skies speak, Eleanor," she said.

A low murmur passed through the gathered creatures.

Then, a voice rose through the wind.

Sotenio, the eldest among them, stepped forward. The torches wavered in the sudden hush.

"With each change in season, we must remember—life continues, even in darkness.

Tonight, we gather not just for healing, but for sight. The moon watches over us, her light guiding the hidden truths. Let her illuminate what is uncertain."

A single note broke the silence.

Soft, low, humming. It spread, carried by the fauns, into a melody that pulled at something primal. The dryads moved, their bodies swaying in an ancient rhythm. It was wild, untamed, something older than words.

Still, the sky remained silent.

No stars. No light.

Minutes passed. The music swelled, voices lifted into wordless chants, feet stirring the earth.

And then—

A crack in the clouds.

A golden glow pushed through, the moon breaking free like a long-held breath. Gasps rippled through the clearing. It was perfectly full, round and luminous, casting light down into the circle.

The torches snuffed out.

"She waited," Allyri breathed beside me. "She waited for the right moment."

Sotenio nodded once. "The harvest begins."

The gathering scattered. Centaurs paired off. Fauns slipped into the trees. Nymphs vanished into the undergrowth, their glowing hands already reaching for herbs only they could see.

I turned to follow Allyri—

But my eyes caught Casio again. He stood unmoving, watching the scene with a look I couldn't read.

And then he turned, disappearing into the night.

I swallowed. Something wasn't right.

What if the moon wasn't waiting?

What if she was warning us?

The forest swallowed us as we moved in smaller groups, each slipping into the shadows beneath the trees.

I found myself with Bavra, Allyri, and Phaelis. The warmth of the Dancing Lawn faded behind us. The air grew thick, damp, almost suffocating. No wind. No sound. Not even insects.

Then—Casio.

I stumbled slightly when I saw him near the tree line, still watching. He wasn't coming. Just standing there.

Bavra tensed at my side.

Casio's gaze swept over each of us, lingering on Bavra just a moment too long.

"Captain," Bavra greeted evenly.

Casio's eyes flicked to me. "Lady Eleanor."

"Captain," I said, matching his tone.

"You should stay close."

And then he turned and left, heading toward Cair Paravel.

"That was... tense," I murmured.

Bavra scoffed. "It must be exhausting, being that suspicious of everyone all the time."

He moved ahead, his face unreadable. Allyri and Phaelis exchanged a glance but said nothing.

We walked in silence, the forest pressing in around us.

After a while, I broke it.

"The last time you saw the stars," I said carefully, "what did they say?"

Allyri and Phaelis slowed their steps.

"It wasn't just one night," Phaelis said. "We've been tracking them for moons."

"Tracking what?"

"The Red Star," Allyri said. "It hovered near the moon for far too long."

War.

I didn't need them to explain.

Phaelis nodded. "Yes. But that alone isn't uncommon."

"It was what followed that troubled us," Allyri said quietly.

"Orion's Belt," Phaelis added. "It shifted lower than it should have for this season."

A hunt. A pursuit.

"And then came the Raven."

I didn't ask what it meant. I already knew.

Change. Messages. Death.

"Change doesn't come without cost," Phaelis said softly.

My chest tightened.

The Red Star. Orion's Belt. The Raven.

War. A hunt. A message in the dark.

Whatever was coming to Narnia—it had been written in the sky long before I arrived.

And now, I had the sinking feeling that we were part of it.

"Eleanor," Allyri whispered.

I followed her gaze and froze.

A glowing plant pulsed beneath the roots of an ancient oak, its leaves dark green, berries a burning orange.

Phaelis crouched beside it, brushing away dirt. "Ashwagandha. It strengthens the body, sharpens the mind. It heals what time forgets."

Allyri looked at me. "Do you see why this night matters?"

I did.

These plants were miracles.

We moved deeper into the forest, collecting glowing herbs hidden beneath moss, wrapped around stones, curled around roots. The deeper we went, the heavier the air grew. Sticky. Oppressive.

"This humidity is unbearable," I muttered.

"We should head back," Allyri said.

Even Phaelis looked relieved.

We had what we needed.

But the night wasn't finished with us yet.