The air felt wrong, too thick, as I pushed aside the wardrobe’s heavy coats, my heart racing with a hope I hadn’t allowed in years. Narnia. I thought, perhaps, I could find my way back.

I’d convinced myself Narnia was just a memory, a child’s fantasy. But the longing hadn’t faded. It had grown stronger. So here I was, trying one last time. But as I stepped out of the wardrobe’s darkness, I knew immediately—this wasn’t Narnia.

The ground beneath me was hard, unfamiliar. No lush forests, no soft winds, only a barren, jagged landscape stretching out under a crimson sky. I turned, dread tightening in my chest. Where was I?

I clutched my skirt, feeling out of place against this rugged terrain. I had imagined reuniting with Aslan, seeing my siblings again, even if it seemed impossible. But this world was cold, harsh. No magic, only an eerie stillness.

I was alone. No Peter, no Edmund, no Lucy. No voices calling my name, only the weight of this strange, menacing place pressing in on me.

I knew one thing for certain: I wasn’t supposed to be here.

Yet, here I was.