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WALKING IN THE WIND
xv. THE NIGHT RAID

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  THE TIME HAD COME for the Narnians to infiltrate Telmar. Night had fallen, but everyone's anxieties were climbing. It was now or never. They were going to avenge Narnia, and they would do it tonight. Everyone was ready for what was to come — everyone but Hope.

  Hope knew what to expect from tonight: fighting, death, shouting, maybe a Telmarine or two running around in their pajamas. But that didn't mean she felt ready. How does one simply... walk into a bloodbath?

  Despite the not-so-small part of her that said otherwise, she kept trying to convince herself that she was ready. Perhaps she could trick her brain into believing she was if she kept saying it to herself. No time remained to fret and worry. She had to be brave, and she had to be certain.

  And that was what she (sort of) believed until she caught Odette's gaze just before leaving Aslan's How.

  The How rumbled with low chatter as the small militia left. Whispers of prayer circled the room. Some wore valiant faces as they bid one another goodbye. Others were too anxious to speak. Those who would fight and those who would wait at the How would part, but for this moment, they held their breath together. A final moment of unity.

  Hope was among the silent. She spoke to no one — not Edmund, not the Pevensies, not Trumpkin, and certainly not Caspian. Not even did she speak to Odette, though they did see each other before parting for what could be the last time. Granted, they only shared a brief glance across a crowded room, but the world slowed to a stop when their eyes locked.

  Odette's blue eyes seemed calm, but Hope knew better now. Behind her ocean eyes existed a tsunami that coursed with apprehension and dread. It was clear Odette longed to say something to Hope. Hope saw it in her bobbing jaw. She was holding herself back. Maybe she wished to say good luck or goodbye or some random last-minute thought she had. It was practically on the tip of her tongue. Hope thought about saying something to her, too. Susan's advice kept nagging at her subconscious.

  But Odette didn't say a word to Hope.

  And neither did Hope speak to Odette.

  They didn't even bother opening their mouths, nor did they move toward each other. They shared only that short glance across a crowded room, and nothing else.

  As Hope left the How, Odette's worried eyes invaded her mind. They bore into her brain, washing every thought, memory, and dream inside her head with a blue tint. Even as she blinked, all she could see behind her eyelids was Odette's gaze. Hope couldn't stop thinking about Odette and the notion that maybe she should've said something before leaving. Just in case.

  Hope felt silly lingering on that petite moment between them. She was about to go to war for the first time, yet all she could think about was her best friend and what remained unsaid. She doubted Odette gave that moment a second thought (or even a first one). But all Hope could think about was that missed opportunity to say goodbye.

  What if Hope really died this time? What if something worse than death became her? Or Edmund? Or Peter, Susan, or any of the Narnians? What if this was the last time she'd ever see anyone she cared about again? What if these were her last moments alive? What if that was the last time she would ever see Odette? Odette's final moments of them together would be of their fights...

  Hope knew her outrage toward Odette was valid this whole time, but she found herself wondering if this one fight was more important than their years of friendship. After all, Odette had apologized in her unconventional way, numerous times. Hope was the one who didn't want to listen to her or even talk to her. It seemed wrong, especially during such trying times. She should've said something. She should've at least let Odette know that she didn't hate her, even if she thought she did. After all, even when Hope had nothing, she had Odette. And the same went for Odette. She had no family, no kingdom, no title.

  What would Odette have if Hope died tonight?

  "You ready?"

  Edmund's voice was low. Shadows masked his face, but luckily, she found his comforting gaze in the darkness.

  Hope hadn't realized it when they arrived upon the sleeping kingdom of Telmar. It was arduous noting the details of the buildings due to the tall cobblestone walls encasing the castle. The dusk of the evening didn't help either. The Narnians stood together, their presence concealed between the stiff trees.

  "Does it matter?" said Hope. "This is going to work, right?"

  "It has to. It's not like we can back out now," Edmund said. He didn't sound too sure of himself, and considering he had earned his title for having such astute judgment, his words didn't soothe her nerves one bit.

  Her attention shifted to the trees. She tried to take in every detail where the moonlight struck them: the indents in the bark, the shade of the leaves, how the branches hung and swayed against the cold air. She feared forgetting the world's life as she was losing her own if anything happened to her tonight.

  Soon, Peter called for Edmund. It was time for the plan to commence. Of course, just Hope's luck, Edmund would be the first to head into Telmar, and he'd be doing so alone.

  "You have your flashlight?" she hastily asked. "Your armor's fastened?"

  Edmund was quick to assure her. "Hey, don't worry. I'll be fine."

  She paused, panicked thoughts crashing into each other as she tried to form a cohesive sentence. What exactly do you say to someone when you might not see them again?

  "Come back to me, okay?" Hope shyly said.

  "What, you think I want to be stuck with those guys?"

  "I'm serious," she argued. "Don't die, or I'll kill you."

  "That doesn't make any sense."

  "Well, don't die, or I'll make it make sense."

  A stifled chuckle left him. He pushed her hair behind her ear, cupping her cheek carefully. It was strange seeing him be so gentle with her when he'd been anxious all day. His eyes had darkened, jaw clenched, muscles tense, and yet, his touch was gentle, thoughtful. Hope was all that was keeping him grounded.

  "Stay close to the others. Try not to wander off," advised Edmund. "You'll be fine. And I'll come back to you. I promise."

  Then, he left her side, heading toward the griffin that was waiting for him. Hope sighed, her hand hovering where his hand had just laid.

  When she joined Peter, Susan, Caspian, and Trumpkin, the eldest Pevensies were talking, but in an unspoken way — a language only the siblings knew. The moonlight bounced off of their eyes, eyebrows furrowing and arching, shoulders shrugging until the two ended their "chat" with a final nod. It was time for them to leave, too.

  Hope wished she had something cool to say when she approached her designated griffin, especially when she noticed Caspian's hesitation. If she knew what she was doing, she might've said, "First time?" or something ridiculously Edmund-like, but she was too nervous to speak. Instead, she mockingly saluted Caspian before allowing the griffin to grab her with its claws and take off into the night.

  They broke through the clouds and edged the heavens, where the stars were only inches away from their fingertips. They swept the skyline and soared above the castle towers. Torches lined the perimeter. Unsuspecting guards stood at their posts. In the near distance, they could see Edmund at another tower, sending signals to the others with his flashlight.

  The castle reminded Hope of home. Wysteria's castle was like this, too. No matter the occasion, there were always hundreds of guards out patrolling, the bushes and shrubs were always trimmed to perfection rather than freely growing, and the buildings were almost too symmetrical. She hadn't yet met Caspian's uncle and aunt, Miraz and Prunaprismia, but she wondered if they were anything like Odette's parents.

  Landing on a narrow balcony, Caspian guided them to a window that led into his private tutor's room. Their first goal was to locate and rescue Professor Cornelius, as he had been the one to save Caspian's life.

  It was a cluttered room. The bed was unmade. The curtains were drawn despite the hour. Books and crumpled wads of paper were scattered, too, and ink droplets stained the furniture. Dust sheathed the air. This room hadn't been touched in a while, possibly since Caspian escaped.

  "Professor?" beckoned Caspian. He froze upon discovering a pair of glasses sitting at the nearby desk, separated from its owner. The Professor wasn't just missing, it seemed that he was moved. Possibly by force. Caspian paled. "I have to find him."

  "You don't have time," Peter opposed. "You need to get the gate open."

  "You wouldn't even be here without him," Caspian contended. "And neither would I."

  Peter looked to Susan for help. She sighed, suggesting, "You, Hope, and I can take care of Miraz."

  "And I can still make it to the gatehouse in time," Caspian declared. He was moving before anyone else could argue. He shuffled past the door, Trumpkin following. They parted ways, leaving the three behind.

  Peter was quiet for a moment before asking, "How the hell are we meant to find Miraz when the only person who knows the layout of this castle isn't here?"

  Finally finding her voice again, Hope offered, "This is Caspian's tutor's room, right? It's a private room, so he must be a valued member of the castle's faculty. That means it's likely on the same floor as the castle ruler's quarters. Miraz can't be too far from here."

  Susan looked pleased. "Not bad. Let's go."

  They hurried into the shaded corridor. Had there been no moonlight to shine through the windows, they would have been blind. The torches hanging on the walls did nothing to guide them, and the floor hardly concealed the echo of their footsteps. This place felt more like an overpriced decoration than a functional castle.

  Much to her surprise, Hope took the lead. Somehow, the castle wasn't a maze to her. She knew where she was going, almost as though she'd walked this path a million times before.

  However, as she turned a corner, she faltered upon noticing a guard casually patrolling the area. His armor clanged together as he mindlessly headed toward them. Crap. They didn't need to attract any unnecessary attention before confronting Miraz. Quickly, Hope reached behind herself and shoved Susan into Peter as hard as she could. She tried back up, attempting to retreat around the corner again and hide—

  "You!"

  Too slow.

  The guard approached Hope and demanded, "What is a handmaid like yourself doing awake at this hour?!"

  Hope gawked at him, startled. She wasn't expecting him to... speak to her. Honestly, she thought he was going to try and kill her immediately, no hesitation. But it seemed that he only noticed her, not Susan nor Peter, and he believed she was an ordinary handmaid...

  She could work with this.

  Hope waved her hand, signaling to Susan and Peter to leave her and find another way to Miraz's room. This caused the guard to interrogate, "What are you doing?"

  "Oh!" Hope said. "There's... There's a pesky fly!"

  The guard paused. "...A fly?"

  "Yes! Have you heard of them?"

  Her tone was higher than usual, and she was speaking so hurriedly that she didn't know if he understood her. Judging his scowl, she assumed he did.

  "Are you mocking me, Lady... Lady...? What is your name?"

  "My... My name?"

  "Yes, what do they call you?" the guard impatiently urged.

  Was she supposed to give her real name? That sounded like the exact opposite of what you should do when you're at war. Maybe a fake name could work.

  "My name..." Hope hesitated before regaining her composure. "My name is Lady Luck!"

  The guard wasn't amused. "Lady Luck? You're not serious, are you?"

  "Mhm, my parents had a bizarre sense of humor," Hope affirmed. "Now, if you'll excuse me—"

  "Not so fast, Lady... Luck. Where exactly are you going?" he demanded. "Surely, you should be headed back to sleep before the other servants notice you're gone."

  She offered him a strained smile, praying he wouldn't look down and notice her attire or the sword strapped to her side. Rely on your wits.

  "Would you believe me if I told you I was hungry?" Hope queried. "Midnight snacks are the most important meal of the day, you know."

  He looked surprised by this, even contemplating the validity of her statement. It didn't matter what he said next because as he opened his mouth, the bells outside tolled. They rang and rang, their deep timbre waking the entire castle. Guards shouted from across the hallway, "WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"

  The guard froze, glancing behind him, then back at "Lady Luck". While he was caught off-guard, Hope withdrew her sword and hit him across the face with the hilt as hard as she could. His unconscious body fell with a thud.

  Hope cringed. "Sorry...! Wait, what am I saying?" She shook her head and broke out into a run before anyone found them.

  She wasn't sure where she should go. Was she meant to search for Caspian? What about Trumpkin and the mice at the gatehouse? They needed to get the gate open for the others. But if the guards were being alerted about the Narnians' break-in, could that mean something happened to Peter and Susan? They were supposed to be confronting Miraz, after all. What if something had gone wrong?

  (She also feared that something might've happened to Edmund, but she couldn't stomach the thought at the moment).

  She decided she better look for Peter and Susan first.

  Hope crept past a throng of guards as they blitzed the courtyard. She hadn't gotten a chance to see the chaos unfurl yet, but if that was her first glimpse into it, she had no desire to see the rest of it.

  She ran past each door in search of one that was obnoxiously big and decorated. She always remembered King David and Queen Lydia's private quarters being depicted differently from the other rooms. The door was always impossible to miss. She noticed the Pevensies did the same when they ruled Cair Paravel. If this was a royal tradition, then Miraz's room should stick out like a sore thumb.

  Soon, she came across a large wooden door with intricate carvings and a golden doorknob. This one was different from the others, which were plain with iron knobs. Such horrid taste in interior design... This must be it.

  It should be known that Hope didn't have a plan. She was more concerned about Susan and Peter's safety than what she was going to do if they actually needed her help. That was how she ended up barging into the bedroom with her sword and her tiny fragment of courage.

  Inside, the fireplace was ablaze, curtains waving with the breeze as it snuck in through the balcony. A bloodied arrow smudged the floor, alone. A woman laid in the unmade bed, adorned in her nightgown, crying and wailing. Beside her was an empty crossbow.

  Before Hope could speak, a man entered through a side door and announced, "Prunaprismia, I've alerted the guards—"

  But he stopped speaking. His eyes narrowed at Hope's silhouette, almost as though he already knew who she was. Or maybe he just naturally assumed she was with the enemy. Whatever it was, he saw straight through her and whatever act she could've put up at that moment, and it horrified her.

  This was Miraz.

  "How did you get in here?" Miraz demanded. His body was stiff, yet he puffed his chest out assertively. He, too, was dressed in his pajamas, and his dark hair was wild. He was alert, prepared to fight. He lacked a weapon, but it was clear he could depend on his physical strength if he needed to.

  "...Through the door," Hope tried to say calmly. "You should probably invest in better security."

  He didn't react to her humor, only staring at her with so much virulence in his gaze that it reminded her of a certain king she once knew. Vigilant, he surveyed her and her weapon, yet there wasn't even an inkling of concern on his features. He had decided she wasn't a threat before she could even speak. Hope's courage withered.

  "If you have come for your... friends, you won't find them here," Miraz said. "They ran. They left you here to die."

  "You don't scare me," replied Hope, who was actually very scared.

  From the bed, a calmed Prunaprismia slowly moved to retrieve another arrow for her crossbow. But Miraz held out his hand, stopping her.

  "If you mean to intimidate me, you're doing a poor job, Hope," Miraz sneered.

  She faltered. "How do you—?"

  "How do I know your name?" Miraz snickered. He stalked toward her, unbothered by the sharp blade pointed toward him. "Isn't that one of the many questions of the hour?" Without looking at his wife, he added, "You can relax now, Prunaprismia. She won't hurt us."

  Prunaprismia tried to oppose, but Miraz was insistent.

  Hope side-stepped away from the door, attempting to put more space between them before he cornered her. "Did you know we were coming?" she interrogated.

  "No."

  "But you know who I am," Hope pointed out. "You know the Narnians survived extinction. Your men have been stalking us. Is that how you know my name?"

  "I'd hardly say they survived extinction," Miraz spat. "You Narnians are better off dead. Living in holes, praying to lions—"

  "For someone who dislikes Narnians, you sure are obsessed with them." Hope kept stepping backward, nervously glimpsing between Miraz and Prunaprismia. "And I'm not a Narnian. I'm—"

  "Wysterian, yes, I know," he snapped.

  Her grip on her sword loosened. Hearing the words leave his mouth so suddenly felt like a punch in the gut. "How...?"

  Miraz chuckled. "I don't blame you for being so... uninformed. You've certainly been gone for a long time, haven't you, Lady Hope? Where did you go all those years ago?"

  "Answer my questions, and maybe I'll answer yours." It wasn't like her to speak so confidently to her superiors, but living in London and learning how to stand up for herself certainly changed that part about her.

  "There are stories about you," Miraz revealed. "They're forbidden tales, though not quite forbidden like the story of Narnia. Your stories are more... sacred than that. You're a legend, nothing like those myths."

  She couldn't tell if he was lying or not. He knew her name. He knew of Wysteria. That was more than what most of the Narnians knew.

  "The Narnians... Most of them had no idea what Wysteria was until a week ago. They could barely recall if it ever existed," Hope contended, her voice wobbling. "They hardly knew of my existence, never mind Princess Odette's."

  "Well, they are animals. I'm shocked they know their tails from—"

  "Enough!" Hope yelled. "Stop screwing with my head! I didn't come here to make small-talk with you!"

  "What exactly did you come here for then, Hope?" Miraz retorted. She could tell he liked how saying her name made her squirm.

  She hesitated. Originally, she was searching for Peter and Susan, but now that she was confronting Miraz, she reckoned she had no other choice but to try to overpower him, to try and force him to surrender. The thought was laughable. She had no bloody idea how she was going to pull that off.

  "You haven't a clue of what you're doing, do you?" Miraz asked. "You can brandish that sword and pretend to be that glorious savior you think you are, but all of that is just an act. It couldn't be any further from reality. I could kill you right now, and you'd still be fumbling through your words. Perhaps I should. But I pity you enough that I will tell you the truth." He slowly began to approach her, and this time, she didn't move away, frozen. "The truth is that you and I are no different."

  "I... I don't know what you mean. I'm not Telmarine."

  "You may not be," Miraz replied. "But for us Telmarines... We are just as much Wysterian as you are."

  "Nonsense! Stop lying to me!"

  "I am only telling you the oldest of Telmar's stories. Why would I lie about my heritage? My pride? My people?" Miraz ricocheted. "We knew who you were as soon as our guards spotted you and your princess with Caspian and those Narnians. I'm afraid that hair is difficult to overlook, and it exists as a defining characteristic of yours in the stories. We've been on high alert since we saw you."

  Hope found herself growing irritable. "What stories?"

  Miraz sighed. "Only the royal family and the highest order of the Telmarine knights know of you and this story. That is how sacred your story is. It is the story of how Telmar overthrew Narnia."

  The more he spoke, the more subdued the war outside seemed. All she could focus on was Miraz rather than the bloodbath beneath them. Her hands trembled, but she didn't lower her sword.

  "It's unknown how we first found this world all those years ago, but we know the original Telmarines first found Wysteria before arriving upon the mainland," Miraz recounted. "Wysteria... That land could hardly stand on its own when we found it. It was rotting, dying. Pathetic. Even the toxic wisteria flowers had poisoned themselves. Wysteria killed itself from the inside out. There were no kings nor queens, only famine, poverty, and death. There wasn't much left of Wysteria, only a few survivors who resided in the vacant castle. The Wysterians who remained only knew where they were and what the land was meant to be because of the stories their elders passed along over the years. Those people were desperate. They needed guidance, leadership. They prayed to your so-called lion, but no one ever came. So King Caspian I offered to take over."

  Miraz continued, "The Wysterians informed us about their culture and land before the kingdom crumbled. They told us how long Wysteria had been corroding away, how they were stranded on the isle. They claimed a land existed beyond Wysteria, where other kingdoms ruled in unity and harmony. And at the center, there was Narnia, who ruled over all alongside those... those foul creatures. That was how we learned of your existence, of your relationship with the Narnians. The people crowned you as the reason why Wysteria fell."

  Hope was going to be sick. "Wysteria was already on the brink of destruction long before I... I did what I did."

  "But it was your actions that were the tipping point... the tipping point to a world where the end wasn't only inevitable, but it was irreversible," Miraz snarled. "The Wysterians and the Telmarines united as one, and together, we overthrew those repulsive Narnians. And we owe it all to you.

  "That... That isn't true," she lamely denied. "It can't be. I-I had nothing to do with—"

  "BUT IT IS!" Miraz bellowed. "It is true! We wouldn't have this, all of this — this empire — had you not eradicated the blooming union between Narnia and Wysteria! That is why your story is so sacred to our history! That is why I have not bothered killing you yet!"

  "You... haven't bothered because you think you have something to owe me?" Hope asked. "Because I can think of better ways to make things even between us, starting with giving the Narnians their freedom."

  "Don't you see? You have an empire here, a legacy. You have a history with us!" Miraz insisted. "The Telmarines are your people, your blood. You have no clue how deep our loyalty to you runs. You've given us more than we could ever ask for! You could have everything you'd ever need with us — not those filthy Narnians! You could have a family with us! You'd even be pardoned for working alongside the Narnians. You could have it all! All you'd have to do is put that sword down."

  "You're asking me to join you?" Hope hissed. "I want nothing to do with you Telmarines. Not unless it ends with you stepping down and the Narnians regaining their homes and their freedom!"

  Miraz's amused, cool nature wilted. There was something very ominous about how his eyes blackened. All kinds of creatures were fighting outside, ones the Telmarines deemed as monsters, and yet the scariest demon was the one standing before her.

  "Watch yourself, girl," Miraz warned. "You have no idea what you're saying. Perhaps you're just as weak as those pathetic Wysterians were before we helped them."

  "Did you help them? Or did you take advantage of them when they were at their lowest?" Hope snapped.

  Miraz didn't respond at first. The few seconds where Hope awaited his response were filled with a loud SMACK! The back of his hand collided with her cheek.

  "FOOLISH GIRL!" Miraz growled. "DON'T YOU KNOW NOT TO INSULT YOUR SUPERIORS? YOU DON'T REALIZE WHAT YOU'RE—" He suddenly fell silent, watching Hope in horror. "Dear God, have you gone mad? Are you... laughing?"

  Hope wasn't sure why she had burst out into giggles after being smacked across the face. It hurt a lot, stinging like a winter breeze on raw skin. Internally, she wanted to sit down and have a good cry because of how much pain her face was in, but instead, she was laughing like a madman.

  "Sorry! I'm sorry, it's just..." Hope giggled. "King David hit harder."

  If Miraz wasn't pissed before, he sure as hell was now.

  "I'm glad we could meet. Because now, I won't care if you die. I'll finish what the Wysterians before me couldn't. I'll kill you myself. Then, I'll finish off my nephew," Miraz lowly jeered. "And I'll be sure to take care of your precious princess, too. She's the rightful heir to the throne as long as she's alive."

  Odette. It was the only thought in Hope's head. It had been the only thought in her head all night. Odette, Odette, Odette.

  Suddenly, Hope wasn't laughing anymore.

  She gripped her sword, swinging it at him without a moment to think twice. He attempted to dodge, but she anticipated that, kicking him in the stomach. As he bent forward in pain, Miraz conjured his strength to charge at her. Hope yelped, bringing her elbow down on the back of his neck. When he went down, he dragged her to the floor with him.

  Her sword flew from her grasp, clattering on the floor. Hope reached for it from where she laid, but Miraz tackled her, pushing her away from it. Lady Prunaprismia had begun to scream and cry once again, and for a split second, Hope considered begging her to shut up.

  Now that he was on top of her, Miraz's hands clamped around Hope's neck, squeezing her trachea. He pushed down on her neck, leaving her to claw at his hands and face as her skin began to turn red, then purple. She tried scratching at him with her nails, but he wasn't budging. Hope's gaze darted to the side in search of her sword. Just her luck, it was near the balcony. The only thing closest to her was the bloodied arrow from before.

  Hope wasted no time, desperately reaching for the arrow. Blood rushed to her head, veins popping out from beneath her pallid skin. Her hands shook violently, vision fading to black—

  Finally, her fingers brushed against the arrow. She took it in her grasp and drove it into the side of Miraz's neck. He bellowed in pain and released his hold on Hope. A sharp breath of air forced its way into her lungs as she shoved him off her. Like a baby deer, she rose and stumbled toward the balcony.

  "SHOOT HER! SHOOT HER!" Miraz screeched at his wife. Prunaprismia scrambled to load another arrow into her crossbow while her husband pressed down on his wound.

  Hope barely managed to make it to the balcony as she dodged Prunaprismia's tragic shots. She rescued her sword and leaned against the railing, coughing violently. But there was no time to breathe. BANG! Miraz's men stampeded inside. They pointed their crossbows at her, each loaded with an arrow that surely wouldn't miss this time. Hope could have laughed again. She had no shield to defend herself, only a mere sword and a torn dress.

  She regretted glancing down at the warzone beneath her. The Narnians and Telmarines were at war, all while she'd been failing to overtake Miraz. But at this rate, she'd never manage to fight Miraz and his men all at the same time. What was she supposed to do? Her only other option was to—

  "FIRE!" Miraz hoarsely ordered.

  Hope gripped her sword and offered them a curtsey before leaning back over the rail and free-falling from one of the highest floors of the castle.

  Her shrill screams pierced the air, her body darting through the night sky like a shooting star. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying that she'd land on something to cushion her fall. She had no idea how Edmund made doing that look so cool. She didn't feel cool at all! She felt like she was about to fucking die!

  A pair of arms caught her mid-air, just moments before she hit the ground, followed by a surprised voice exclaiming, "Your Majesty!"

  Hope opened her eyes to find a centaur standing before her. "Rainstone!" she greeted, her voice raspy from Miraz nearly crushing her throat.

  Rainstone hurriedly set her down. He couldn't wait to see if she could stand, turning to slash at a nearby Telmarine. "What in the world are you doing!?"

  "I have no idea!" Hope admitted. "Er, thanks! For... For, um, that."

  "Just try not to fall from the sky again, yeah?" Rainstone shouted, kicking his front legs at another attacker.

  Hope didn't respond, taking in the chaos that had evolved while she was facing Miraz. Bodies flailed and fell, gushing with blood and lacerations that would never heal right. The shouting was so explosive that it meshed together into white noise — the kind of unsettling noise you hear in your nightmares. Arrows soared low to penetrate those where they least expected it. It was everything Hope imagined. Her deepest, darkest fears were on full display for her.

  She couldn't focus, her mind still stuck on Miraz's words, his story, his threats. Her thoughts flashed between him and Odette over and over again. The fury that ignited within her upon hearing him threaten Odette's safety returned, and before she knew it, she was using that outrage to fight.

  Silver flashes of armor and blood blotted her vision. She never paused, not even for a second, to view the faces of the soldiers she was fighting. It didn't matter if she did. All she could envision was Miraz's wicked face behind the helmets of her victims.

  Fire lashed across the courtyard, her bright red hair lighting her path as she worked her way through the warzone. The roars of all sorts of mythical creatures propelled her forward. She was doing it — all of this — for them. For Narnia. For Aslan. For Odette.

  She flinched when her back was pushed against someone else's. She turned, panicked, prepared to slash at them. But she refrained, sighing in relief.

  "Peter!" she breathlessly greeted.

  "DUCK!" Peter yelled. She quickly moved downward, allowing him to mark his enemy. "Where have you been?!"

  "Trying not to die!"

  Fighting alongside the High King felt more like a nightmare than a dream. Despite not having been in Narnia for a year, he fought as he breathed. His sword was not a tool, but rather, an extension of himself. His blade never left his hand for a second, and never did it lower. Quick. Domineering. Powerful. Dying at the hands of Peter Pevensie was a direct invitation to hell.

  But fires cannot burn forever. The turmoil and adrenaline pouring through Hope were fading. Her muscles ached. Her breathing was no longer keeping up with her body. Part of her still felt like there was a pair of hands around her neck, squeezing until she gave in to the urge to pass out in the middle of the battlefield. She could not keep up with the world around her anymore.

  It wasn't just Hope either. All around her, the Narnians were growing depleted. But the Telmarines just kept coming. Would it ever end? Would this night be eternal? Would the sun ever rise again?

  "THE GATE!"

  The voice came from near Hope. At the opposing end of the courtyard, the gate was rapidly falling shut. A minotaur by the name of Asterius bolted toward it, standing beneath it to hold it open with all of the strength he had left. Had he not made it in time, the Narnians would have been trapped inside.

  The Narnians were nearing their limit, but the fight was far from concluding. Hope was more concerned about them than herself. The corpses were piling up, and most of them were Narnian. How much longer could they keep this up for?

  "FALL BACK!" Peter's voice suddenly boomed. It wasn't an ordinary shout. The High King's voice shook the ground, creating earthquakes underneath everyone's feet. "RETREAT!"

  Oh.

  Hope wasn't imagining things anymore. She wasn't being dramatic either. They were losing. They were going to die.

  Everything Hope had feared before heading into the battle was coming true.

  Hope looked to the Narnians around her and clamored, "GO! RETREAT!"

  She wasn't thinking about herself, only the Narnians. If she was a flame, she would push them away from her. She had to keep pushing them forward. If she could stall just a little bit longer, if she could just last in this war a bit more, she could save the others. She could do it. She wouldn't let them die.

  Peter shoved another Telmarine aside, barely dodging his weapon. "HOPE, WE HAVE TO GO!" he ordered. General Glenstorm sprinted past them with Susan on his back.

  "I'M RIGHT BEHIND YOU! GO!" Hope assured him. He shot her a stern look, unmoving. He was doing the same as her: trying to save everyone before saving himself. But this time, she would not listen to the voice of fear. "GO! NOW!"

  Hope didn't bother looking to see if he was moving. She turned her back on him and kept fighting, even if her arms burned so much that she could not bear to move them anymore. Her legs must've been cemented to the ground because she could hardly stand at this point. Slicing through her enemies, Hope would not give up. Not yet.

  That was when she found Rainstone and Suncloud trotting toward her.

  "YOUR MAJESTY!" Rainstone shouted. "What are you still doing here!?"

  "The same as you!" Hope called.

  "This is no place to die!" Rainstone argued. "Sunny, take her!"

  Suncloud nodded, pulling Hope onto his back before she could protest (not that she had the energy to). The centaur brothers sprinted toward the exit, and Hope held on for dear life.

  Bodies fell all around them like dominoes, many of which were Narnian. Hope could tell Suncloud was fighting back tears, especially once they exited. She was, too.

  Behind them on horseback was Caspian, a graying man who she presumed was the Professor, and finally, Peter. Susan was ahead of them, alongside many of the other Narnians. But no one else came after Peter.

  The minotaur holding up the gate had collapsed, trapping the Narnians who remained inside.

  Hands gripped the iron bars on the other side, some reaching through the gaps. Tears streaked the Narnians' bloodied faces as they each went down. One after another, one after another. Again, again, again. Desperate eyes stared back at the Narnians as they screamed for help. One of the many faces on the other side was Rainstone.

  "LEAVE US!" a Narnian called from inside the castle.

  "GO!" another pleaded. "IN THE NAME OF ASLAN!"

  "SAVE YOURSELF!" one pleaded.

  "FOR NARNIA!"

  "No..." Hope whispered. "NO!"

  But her shouts were pointless. There was nothing she or the others could do now.

  Ironhoof, Glenstorm, and Suncloud stood together. There was an empty spot beside them where Rainstone should have been, where he would never stand again. They stared back at Rainstone as he stood on the other side. He swallowed his fear and only nodded to his family. This was their goodbye.

  As the surviving Narnians retreated from Telmar, Hope found herself looking back at the castle. She couldn't tear her gaze from it. The shouts of the Narnians went on and on, their howls and moans dousing the night. Even in the distance, you could hear their shouts, slowly dying out. Hope had to cover her ears, for she couldn't bear the sound.

  But then the air became quiet.

  All at once, the noise ceased.

  It was silent.

  And so, Hope had an answer to one of her many questions that evening:

  The sun would rise again, but it didn't matter, for the Narnians had fallen.

  They lost.