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WALKING IN THE WIND
xvii. WHERE WORLDS END

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  HOPE PONDERED WHAT HER father might say if she informed him of her unfavorable predicament.

  Part of her supposed he'd be ridden with disappointment, but another, more reasonable part of her reckoned he'd find the entire situation hilarious. That was the kind of man he was. He never thought too hard about these kinds of things, a faithful believer in doing what the heart desired. He was laidback, too, walking the line of life with a bit of a swagger. Hope wished she was more like him: careless and compassionate in all the right places.

  Hope slept under the stars for the first time in her life that night. It was strange. It wasn't exactly quiet, not with the everlasting singing of the cicadas and the trees rustling all night, but it was, indeed, peaceful. She felt closer to her father, who'd done this sort of thing for years, that night than she had since his death. Between that and her long, emotionally-taxing journey yesterday, she slept like a baby. However, dreams were not her friend last night. It seemed that as soon as she closed her eyes, she was opening them again to see the break of dawn, sort of like a long blink.

  She awakened to a golden sky and fatigue weighing down on her. Her eyelids were heavy, her eyes burning with every blink. She would curse if she had it in her to. Of course, even when she was beaten up and exhausted, her body refused to let her sleep in.

  On the bright side, daybreak was whimsical. She appreciated that no matter where she was, she could always look forward to the sunrise. It made her wonder if her father felt the same way when they were apart. Did it give him relief knowing that he and his daughter were watching the same sunrise every day before he passed? She hoped so.

  Not many awakened as early as she did, perhaps because no servant busied themselves the way Hope did, even on a normal day. It was nice being one of the few people in the world that were awake. It was like no one else existed—just her, the infinite sky, and the whimpering boy beside her.

  Wait.

  Eyebrows furrowed, she sat up, yawning as she turned to the Just King. His entire body was tense as he twitched and fidgeted in his sleep. He'd likely be tossing and turning if he wasn't otherwise frozen with trepidation. Whimpers escaped him, and every so often, he'd mutter a helpless, "No... No!"

  Worried, Hope tiredly called, "Edmund...?" She cringed at the croak of her morning voice. When he didn't react, she tried again. "Edmund, wake up."

  No response. He was clearly having a nightmare, something no being on the planet was immune to. For a split-second, she wondered if Aslan had nightmares, too, and if so, what were they about?

  "Edmund," she tried again. She moved closer to him, now wide-awake, and shook him by his shoulders. "Edmund? Edmund, wake up!"

  Third time's a charm.

  With a sharp gasp, Edmund shot upward, his hair messy and littered with grass. A storm brewed in his dark eyes, mixing with tears that threatened to spill. Sweat collected over his body as he slouched forward, heavy breaths leaving him as if he'd just been to war. Little did Hope know, that wasn't too far from the truth.

  Hope watched, silent, hesitant. Then, she gently beckoned, "Edmund?" She noticed how he flinched at the sound of her voice before relaxing, remember where he was. "Are... Are you alright?"

  His nightmare flashed through his head. Clashing swords, one last strike, a shaking hand reaches for the sky—

  "Yeah."

  Falteringly, Hope admitted, "You, um, you don't seem like it."

  To her surprise, he snapped, "Well, I don't know what you expect me to do about it, Hope."

  She raised an eyebrow at his snippy reply, initially a little hurt. But, then again, how else did she expect him to react after having a nightmare like that?

  Neither person spoke for a long, long moment. She merely moved closer to him and, with only an ounce of hesitance, comfortingly placed her hand on his muscular back, rubbing it tenderly. It wasn't until the morning sun was properly perched in the sky when Edmund sighed and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

  Her silence was deafening.

  She waited another moment before inquiring, "Are... Are nightmares of that nature normal for you? I-I don't mean to overstep, it's just... You... It looked really bad."

  Edmund didn't want to talk about it. He never did, not with his siblings, not with Aslan, not with anyone. The nightmares were already harrowing enough; recalling them was worse. He habitually tried to fight them off by either sleeping for a few hours at a time or not sleeping at all. Susan often caught him drifting asleep during meals, but whenever she asked him about it, he brushed her off. Lucy noticed it, too, so she'd tell Peter, who was fully aware of this already. On occasion, Peter would take Edmund out to the training grounds, where they'd spar until he was so exhausted that he had no choice but to sleep throughout the night. He always slept the best those nights because there were no dreams, no nightmares, nothing. An endless sea of black. But he could only keep the nightmares at bay for so long.

  When Edmund didn't reply, she shared, "My father used to get nightmares, too. He never talked about them either, so I get it. You don't have to talk about it, but... if they're as bad as they seem, you should talk to your siblings about them. I'm sure they'd be willing to help."

  She was right and he knew it.

  But talking about it made the nightmares real. It gave them power, power they should only wield at night, not the daytime. He feared what would happen to him if he brought them to life. He couldn't revisit his nightmares in a world where they weren't meant to exist. It would kill him.

  It's not like he's never tried to talk about them before. He's tried countless times, usually with Peter. But every time he started, he could never finish. The words evaporated from his tongue and he was no longer a king, only a scared little boy who didn't know any better... who should've known better.

  But Hope was different. She wasn't like his siblings: overly nosy, caring so much to the point of suffocating him, watching his every move, waiting for him to collapse. She was just a girl, a girl who was his friend, a girl he liked a lot, a girl who didn't seem to judge him. Would talking to her instead of them make a difference? She wouldn't tell a soul, that's for sure. Like most things, she'd keep it to herself. Besides, her advice hasn't wronged him yet...

  "It's... usually the same dream every night," Edmund eventually revealed. "The Battle of Beruna, the White Witch. Except, um, in my dream, I... can't move. I'm frozen. Can't do anything. I can only stand by and watch her... watch... watch her..."

  Hope studied him, unsure of how to help. All she could do was pathetically rub his back. "Hey, you don't have to talk about it—"

  "—watch her fight off my siblings. But she doesn't kill them. She tortures them, which feels worse than watching them d...die. And all I can do is stand there," he continued, his voice wavering. "And-And when I'm finally able to move, they don't want my help because I... I betrayed them once already. And... And then it ends with the Witch..." His hand moved to his stomach, his scar aching.

  When Hope withdrew her hand from his back, he was sure he'd done it. He just ruined whatever relationship they had. How could someone as good and pure as her care about a selfish prick like him? How could she care for someone who betrayed his own family so easily—?

  "It's just a dream," she told him. Hope placed her hand over his as it hovered over his scar, squeezing it gently. "You have to remember that. She can't hurt you or anyone anymore. She's gone. She's dead."

  "But..." lingered Edmund, furiously blinking away the tears. "It feels so real, I—"

  "I know," she assured. Her voice was soothing to him. "But just because it feels real doesn't mean it is. These dreams... I think it's your mind trying to cope with what happened. It's valid. You know that, right? Your feelings are valid. It was a traumatic experience, king or not, soldier or not."

  Oddly, a fragment of the weight on his shoulders was lifted at her words. It's valid.

  "I'm afraid I don't know how to end these nightmares, but... I think reminding yourself that it's not real might help. I-I mean, they are real, to an extent. I'm not saying you should... try to erase them altogether, even though you might want to. But, you know, pretending they never happened will just make things worse and..." She inhaled deeply, gathering her thoughts. He couldn't bring himself to smile, but the fondness he felt for the girl started to grow again.

  She continued, "These nightmares can scare you and upset you, but they can't hurt you. I-I mean, they can, in theory, but..." She shook her head. "It's temporary. All pain is temporary."

  Hope hesitated. She hoped she was making any kind of sense. It's sort of difficult spewing out decent advice first thing in the morning, after all.

  "Have you ever thought that maybe you need to learn how to forgive yourself?" she asked. "I don't mean to overstep, but... your siblings seem to have forgiven you, Narnia's forgiven you, and I'm sure Aslan forgave you a long time ago. The only person who hasn't accepted what happened is you."

  When he remained silent, Hope confessed, "Well, I think that's the case." Her gaze was stuck to his face, but he was staring into the distance. But she knew he was listening because of how tightly he was squeezing her hand. "The war's over, Edmund. You and your siblings and Narnia are safe and well. You can rest."

  She didn't expect him to say anything else. It was a heavy topic for him. She'd understand if he wanted to curl up into a ball and go back to sleep. Aslan knows that's what she would want to do. She moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder, hands still intertwined. It was odd, but it felt right to her.

  She found herself recounting all the early mornings they'd spent together, where his hair was disheveled, eyebags prominent. All those mornings, the ones where he insisted he simply woke up early and couldn't fall back asleep. He claimed he wasn't tired. All those mornings, he lied straight through his teeth, and Hope never realized it.

  "Thank you, Hope."

  His voice was quiet, barely a whisper, but it was there. And, in turn, she smiled. "You know I'm here for you, right?" she reminded him.

  "Well, our souls are bound for the rest of eternity, so—"

  "And he's back," she mumbled, causing him to softly chuckle. She lifted her head from his shoulder, feeling his grip on her hand loosen. Still, he didn't let go. "How was my motivational speech this time?"

  Edmund glanced back at her, his tired eyes filled with light again. Relief engulfed her when he stifled a laugh. "You're getting better," he teased. He paused as if he were gathering himself. "Did you know you talk in your sleep?"

  Hope's eyes widened, her cheeks immediately reddening. "I do?!" she weakly cried. "Did I wake you up? Did I say something stupid? Oh, Aslan—"

  "No, no, don't worry," he interrupted. "It's cute."

  She felt her breathing halt in her throat. Forget her cheeks, her entire body was warm, flustered. She couldn't refrain from smiling. "You-You can't start flirting with me now, Edmund," she taunted.

  "Do you really think this is the first time I've flirted with you?"

  She opened her mouth to reply, but when no words came out, he smirked triumphantly. She didn't know what to say. She wasn't used to this, never mind from him. Of course, that didn't mean she didn't like it.

  Her smile teetered for a moment. "Are you sure you're okay?" she softly inquired. "Like, you're not trying to, I don't know, change the subject on purpose, right?"

  Edmund pulled his hand away from hers, using it to brush her hair behind her ear and cup her cheek. "Now, why would I do that, dove?" he teased. She was trying to maintain her composure, but it was so hard when he was doing that.

  "B-Because, you know, you just, well, I-I mean—"

  "Hey," he gently interrupted, his tone a little more serious, "I'm okay."

  She couldn't think straight with his face only inches away from hers. "Y-You promise?" she squeaked.

  Edmund paused. Then, that stupid smile of his returned to his face, and Hope could've sworn she'd just died and gone to Aslan's Country. "What do I have to do to convince you I'm alright?" he fondly queried. "Actually, I have an idea."

  He leaned forward to kiss her, almost surprised when she leaned forward and closed the gap between them first. Her lips were slightly chapped, but the kiss was so gentle, he hardly noticed. When they pulled away, Edmund grinned and bantered, "I think you might've had the same idea, too."

  She rolled her eyes, giggling. "I just wanted to do that one last time," she confessed. When he wore a puzzled expression, she raised an eyebrow. "Did you already forget that this," she motioned between them, "can never happen?"

  Edmund frowned. Of course, he knew that. But he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about the future — the future where he'd be stuck yearning for a girl he could never have.

  "I know, I don't like it either," she mumbled.

  "So, let's not talk about it," Edmund proposed.

  "Right because avoiding the problem makes the problem go away."

  "Wow, you really get me."

  Shaking her head, she took his hand again. "You're ridiculous," she mused. "I was thinking about it last night. I really, really hate the idea of lying to Odette for the rest of our lives, but... it's better than our other options."

  A deep frown carved out his face. "There's no happily ever after here, is there?" he defeatedly asked.

  "Afraid not," she confirmed. "And the worst part is, I'm stuck with you until we're old and gray."

  He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm sorry, you said that like it's a bad thing."

  She scoffed, grinning. "Your ego is just ridiculous!"

  "You can't lie to me, you love it," he quipped.

  "Well, if I'm adding liar to the list of horrible things I am, I can, actually," she sassed. That got a good laugh out of Edmund, which caused her to laugh, too.

  He ran his thumb across her hand, trying his best to mask his disappointment with this entire situation. He knew it was for the best, especially if he wanted her to be safe, but he hated how both of them were going to end up unhappy in the end. He wished he knew if this was all part of some greater plan by Aslan or even the universe.

  "Well, that's one thing out of the way," remarked Edmund. "Too bad we didn't get the dust. All that trouble was for nothing."

  Hope glanced down as he withdrew the folded soul-binding parchment from his pocket. She sighed at the sight of it. To think that a simple document could change her life just like that... She pulled away from his grasp, taking the paper in her hands and studying the words as they continued to glow, like magic.

  She paused when she realized it, eyes widening. "Edmund," Hope suddenly said, "the words on the parchment... They're glowing."

  "Well-spotted, love."

  She shot him a weak glare. "I mean, the words are glowing. From magic," she emphasized. She swiped her finger across the parchment, pixie dust gathering on her fingertip. "Do you reckon if we store this in a bag or a bottle or something, we can give it to Odette?"

  If they wiped the dust off the parchment and gave it to her....

  Edmund's eyebrows shot upward. "Holy—You're a genius!"

  Hope beamed at the recognition and praise, but because this was Edmund she was talking to, she couldn't help but mock, "Well-spotted, love."

  And as they scrambled to their feet to retrieve a pouch, and soon leave, Hope couldn't help but wish that they didn't have to go back to Cair Paravel. She wished they could remain in the Dancing Lawn, where no one was around, where neither of them had any real responsibilities. All she wanted was to lay in the grass with the boy she liked and forget the world was spinning.

  Star-crossed lovers are rumored to be the unluckiest beings in the universe. Born to love, destined for tragedy. And even then, they would somehow face the odds with a smile and watch as the world burned to ashes. That was how intense the love between star-crossed lovers is—powerful enough to end worlds, but not strong enough to save them.

  Certain things always have to happen for a reason. She knew that. It was all part of Aslan's plan. Still, Hope wished that, for once, the stars would align in her favor.