Blades & Heartbeat

13

The forest was alive with the sound of our breathless flight—branches whipping against my arms, the pounding of hooves, and the shouts of Miraz’s soldiers behind us. My sword felt heavy in my hand, though I would not loosen my grip. Beside me, Caspian urged me onward, his dark hair plastered to his brow, his eyes sharp with urgency. We had been running for hours, ever since the ambush near the river. The night air smelled of pine and danger. Then I heard it—the horn. Caspian pulled it from the leather pouch at his side, the one Professor Cornelius had given him before we fled. I had heard the stories, as every Telmarine child had, about the golden age of Narnia and Queen Susan’s horn that could summon help from anywhere in the world. But hearing its call in the dead of night… it felt like a thread of legend had been pulled into my life. The sound seemed to tremble in the air, both fierce and beautiful. We escaped into the deeper woods, the soldiers’ pursuit fading into the distance, replaced by the quiet hum of the forest. My muscles ached, yet a strange energy kept me moving. Then, ahead, I saw them—four figures emerging from the shadows as if they had stepped straight out of a dream. Caspian tensed, and before I could speak, steel rang against steel. He and the taller boy with the fair hair clashed fiercely, their movements quick and unyielding. A girl’s voice cut through the fight—Lucy, I would later learn—sharp with command. The two broke apart, their chests heaving. The fair-haired boy’s eyes swept over Caspian, recognition dawning. But when his gaze shifted, it landed on me—and lingered. Blue eyes, clear as the summer sky, locked with mine, and in that moment, the forest faded. My heart stumbled in my chest, unsteady, as if something deep inside me recognized him before my mind could. I forced myself to breathe, but it was already too late.