HE'D MESSED UP IN A MAJOR WAY. He knew that. If it hadn't been for the Pevensie's sudden appearance, then Jadis would have been free to roam Narnia once more, free to wreak her wintry havoc in a land that already had so little good left in it.

All because of his greed, his lust for power.

He'd sworn that he would defeat his uncle, return Narnia to the Narnians. But now, Caspian feared that for an instant, for the briefest moment, he'd turned into the very monster he was trying to defeat.

Monsters like Miraz had been beaten before, their stories now engraved on the walls of the How. The drawings were everywhere in this underground hideout, telling of times before; the creation of Narnia, the entrance of Evil into the perfect land, the first people to enter Narnia, the one-hundred year winter, the sacrifice of Aslan.

Caspian stopped before an image of the Witch, her knife raised over the Great Lion, and wondered if, after this was over, his story would end up on these walls-or if there would be any walls left to engrave.

Lifting a hand, he brushed away a heavy layer of dust, revealing the next picture.

Two queens, mourning over the body of the Lion, the younger shrouded in red and the older in grey. The younger wept, her face buried in Aslan's fur, but the older sat still, her head bowed in quiet sorrow, the expression on her face not terribly different from the look she'd given him earlier.

Sorrow, anger, disappointment, and underneath it all, disgust at his and Peter's behavior. Then, unable to look at him a moment longer, she'd turned and stalked out of the cavern. He couldn't blame her; he was disgusted with himself.

He didn't blame her, but it still hurt-having that typically gentle gaze turned to ice at him.

Caspian's thumb traced the outline of the Lion.

If you're out there, we could certainly use your help.

He held his breath and waited, listening, hoping he would receive some sort of answer.

Nothing.

His eyes closed and he swallowed back disappointment, a sense of hopelessness washing over him.

What was left of their army was pitifully small. What was left of their morale, even smaller. And now, in their greatest hour of need, Aslan was nowhere to be found.

Caspian turned and headed down the corridor. He needed air, he needed to get out of this rabbit warren and breathe. His feet knew the way by memory, carrying him through the maze of rock towards the opening at the top of the mountain even though he scarcely knew where he was.

As he drew nearer, he could smell the fresh air and see the glow of sunlight. But then he turned the corner and stopped short of the exit.

She was there, silhouetted against the setting sun with her back to him.

Caspian stayed still, the feeling of guilt slowly returning as he watched her. Susan hadn't heard or noticed him as she stood, bow in hand, and he turned, preparing to leave her in peace. The last thing she wanted was to be around him-a traitor.

"So much has changed," Susan said quietly.

Caspian stopped and glanced back over his shoulder, uncertain if she had been speaking to him. She hadn't turned, or even moved.

"During the Golden Age, we would come here when we wanted to get away." Susan shifted, propping her bow against the ground like a walking stick. "Then, the trees could move of their own accord," she continued. "The animals could talk as well as you or I. We were at peace."

She turned slowly, her sorrowful gaze meeting his.

"We never meant to leave," she said softly. "We never meant to abandon Narnia."

Caspian looked away, recalling his words, thrown at Peter in anger.

"I am not the one who abandoned Narnia!"

"Peter was desperate to return," she continued. "He wouldn't stop talking about it, demanding to know when Aslan would call us back." A sad smile crossed her lips. "I'd finally stopped hoping that we'd ever return."

Caspian frowned, confused. He'd assumed, like everyone else, that the kings and queens could have returned whenever they wanted.

"But, in the end," Susan turned back to the sunset, "it wasn't Aslan that called us back, was it?"

Caspian's mind flashed back to the horn, safely stowed away in his quarters.

He took a step closer-just one.

"Doctor Cornelius used to tell me stories about you; the kings and queens of old." Caspian's hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he gazed out over the field below. "He gave me the horn and told me that it would summon help."

Susan sighed. "Well, I'm sorry that we didn't live up to your expectations."

Caspian backtracked on his earlier words. "That's not what I-"

Susan shook her head. "It's not your fault, Caspian." She craned her neck to look at him. "We can't fix this," she said softly. "We can't beat Miraz. Aslan is our only hope now."

Caspian didn't reply, a bit taken aback by her directness. They stood in silence for some minutes, watching the golden light of the sun sink lower.

"I don't think your Lion is coming," Caspian said finally.

Susan didn't respond at first. He could see that she was mulling something over, her brows furrowed ever so slightly over her intelligent blue eyes.

Well, Caspian thought, if I'm going to die tomorrow, at least I got to meet the Queen whose beauty warranted proposals of marriage from every royal family in the realm.

Susan spoke, interrupting his train of thought.

"Before the Battle of Beruna, Aslan was dead; killed by the hand of the White Witch herself. It seemed as if all hope was lost." She turned her head and gestured to the north. "Peter's army was there when Jadis and her horde came over the hill. They charged, and the battle that ensued was costly, but they couldn't beat her."

Caspian listened carefully, though he had heard the story before from Cornelius. But Cornelius hadn't been there that day; he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

"Lucy and I were there when He died," she breathed. "We saw them beat Him, shave Him, and finally we saw the Witch drive a dagger into His heart. We touched the wounds, smelt the blood. He was dead, and we had given up hope."

Susan looked up, towards the sky.

"Then, as the sun began to rise, and as we turned to leave, the ground shook and a horrible noise split the air-as if the earth itself were cracking open. There was this terrible, piercing light. And when we looked, the Stone Table was broken in two and Aslan was nowhere to be found." She paused, caught up in the memory as a smile crossed her lips. "But then, just as the sun slipped over the horizon, we saw Him standing there-alive and fully healled. It was impossible; but it was real."

Caspian stood still, the scene playing out in his mind.

"Aslan led us to victory that day." Her gaze grew distant as she sifted through the memories. "He set us over Narnia to reign, and then disappeared. In all of what you now call the Golden Age, we never saw Him again. Then, one day, we were out hunting and happened through the door to our world." She smiled sadly. "By that point, we'd lived longer in Narnia than in England and our old lives seemed but a dream."

   "We wanted to come back," Susan insisted, "you must understand that. We longed for it as the days wore on." The girl's smile disappeared. "I'd finally resigned myself to the fact that I was never coming back. And now..." she trailed off.

Silence fell as the pair watched the sun sink lower over the horizon. Susan looked on with sadness, knowing that every sunset meant they were one day closer to having to return. She wasn't enjoying being back; not as she would've in the past. Instead, she spent the time preparing, bracing herself for the day when they would be sent back.

It pained her to think this way. Her heart belonged in Narnia-the only place she had ever felt truly alive. But the more she allowed herself to fall in love with the place again, the more it would tear her in two when the time came to leave the beautiful land.

As the sun met the horizon, a brilliant flash of yellow and orange lit the trees, reminding her of the moment she and Lucy had seen Aslan alive when moments before He had lain dead. She had no doubt that He could help them ths time. No, her only doubts lay in wondering if He would help them.

"Lucy believes that He's here," Susan whispered, "waiting for us. She says that she saw Him."

Caspian started. "Aslan?"

The Gentle Queen lowered her head. "On our journey with Trumpkin." She looked up again, her eyes clouded with confusion. "But we were there; gazing at the same patch of woods. No one else could see Him." Susan turned to Caspian, her brow furrowed, and asked the question that had plagued her for days.

"If He was there, then why couldn't we see Him?"

He had no answer for her.