Back, Again. || Prince Caspian

one

As the sun dipped below the horizon, I wrapped my arms around my mother in a warm embrace. "You should really consider joining a choir, Mom. Your voice is amazing!"

She laughed, a melodic sound that brightened the room. "Maybe one day, sweetheart. But for now, I'm content just singing with you."

In that moment, joy swelled in my heart. But as I settled on the couch, unease crept in. I noticed small signs-her lingering cough, the way she winced when reaching for things, and how she seemed to tire more easily during our weekend outings.

Occasionally, I'd catch her staring out the window, lost in thought, as if pondering something far beyond the comfortable walls of our home. I tried to brush these moments aside, attributing them to stress, but a nagging worry lingered.

One quiet evening, while I washed the dishes, I caught sight of her sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through old photo albums.

She seemed frozen, her fingers trembling over the pages filled with memories. A fleeting expression crossed her face-something between nostalgia and deeper sorrow.

"Hey, Mom, everything okay?" I called, wiping my hands on a towel and approaching her.

She looked up, a soft smile surfacing amidst her contemplation. "Of course, dear. Just remembering the good times. It's easy to get lost in them."

"Yeah, I get it," I said, pushing down the unease growing within. "We should make more good memories then."

"I'd like that," she replied, her smile lingering. But her gaze soon drifted back to the photos, and I could sense an unspoken worry beneath her warmth. Before I could voice my concerns, she took my hand. "Let's plan a weekend trip. There are still places we haven't explored."

"Absolutely! Where should we go?"

Her eyes sparkled with excitement, illuminating the conversation. "How about that little bed-and-breakfast by the lake? We could hike and maybe even stargaze."

"Sounds perfect!" I replied, eager to match her enthusiasm and push my anxiety aside.

That night, as I retreated to my room, a feeling of disorientation enveloped me. My once-cozy sanctuary felt claustrophobic, shadows stretching ominously along the walls.

The familiar sounds of the house-the creaking floorboards, distant whispers of the wind-shifted into an unsettling symphony.

I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling, the anticipation of our trip fading into anxiety. I buried my face in my pillow, fighting the pounding in my chest.

I had focused so hard on the joy of our planned escape that I hadn't confronted the truth lurking beneath the surface-our fragile balance felt precarious, like a thread ready to snap.

Suddenly, a gust of wind howled outside, rattling my window. I turned and caught a glimpse of something shimmering at the edge of my vision. A soft, glowing light filled the room, pulsing gently, drawing me in.

"What is happening?" I murmured, both unsettled and entranced.

The light swirled until it consumed the darkness, enveloping me in a warm embrace that felt both reassuring and overwhelming. Reality began to shift, blurring the lines between the mundane and the extraordinary. In that critical moment, caught between comfort and the allure of the unknown, I reached out.

Just like that, everything twisted and turned as the light pulled me in, dissolving my surroundings. My room, the creeping shadows, the whispers of doubt-all melted away as I surrendered, crossing into another realm.

In an instant, I found myself on a beach, staring at the vast ocean before me. Confusion washed over me as I looked around for familiarity. Just steps away stood beautiful ruins, nature clawing its way through the stone.