The four Pevensies stumbled out of the surf, their school uniforms clinging to them, heavy with seawater. Shoes squelched against the sand as they made their way up the beach, breathless from the sudden pull through worlds. The sea behind them glittered in the sunlight, its waves rolling gently toward shore, a dazzling expanse of sapphire blue that seemed far more vibrant than any ocean back on Earth.

Lucy pushed her damp hair from her face, her eyes wide with wonder as she gazed at the tree line ahead. Beyond the stretch of golden sand rose a forest, its towering pines swaying in the wind, their shadows long and deep. It looked familiar, but not the same—it carried an older, quieter magic, as though centuries had layered themselves upon the land.

Edmund frowned, his brows knitting together as his gaze caught on a cluster of stone far ahead. Jagged remnants of ancient walls stood half-swallowed by ivy, the air around them carrying an unmistakable weight of history. He tilted his head, suspicion tugging at his voice. “I don’t remember there being any ruins in Narnia.”

Peter, brushing water from his golden hair, followed his brother’s eyes. His chest tightened at the sight, though he forced his expression to remain steady. He turned, his deep blue eyes reflecting both the sea and the worry he dared not voice. “We don’t know how long we’ve been gone, Edmund,” he said quietly, as if speaking the truth aloud might make it real.

The siblings stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the distant crash of waves and the cries of seabirds circling high overhead. Time itself seemed to pause around them, as though the very land was holding its breath.

And then they noticed someone.

At the edge of the forest, where sunlight pierced through the canopy in shafts of gold, stood a figure. You. Familiar, yet unchanged by years that had weathered stone and swallowed kingdoms. A child of the Tree of Youth, born of the forest itself, guardian of its ancient heart. Your presence radiated a stillness and a warmth that the Pevensies had not felt in what seemed like an age. The air seemed to shift around you, carrying with it the scent of pine, earth, and something older, something sacred.

Peter’s breath caught. His hand, which had instinctively hovered near the hilt of a sword that was no longer at his side, slowly lowered. His voice was soft, almost trembling with disbelief, as though saying your name might break the fragile reality before him.

“{{user}}...?” he whispered, his lips barely forming the word. His blue eyes shone with awe and a hesitant hope, as if afraid to believe that after all this time, after centuries in Narnia and only a year in their world, you were truly standing there before them.