wis·dom
/ˈwizdəm/
noun
the quality of having experience, knowledge, and good judgment; the quality of being wise.
Narnia had always been a free country, until she came along. Jadis was the devil in disguise, and she brought to the kingdom an eternal...
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"In another time, in a happier place, we'll meet again." - Unknown
Narnia, 2318
"Olivia. Before you leave, we must speak. Come."
Olivia frowned, looking at Edmund, but followed the great cat nevertheless. The marks of their feet on the sand were funny; a great paw compared to a little foot. She fought back the urge to giggle.
"Olivia, I thank you for your service to me and my country," Aslan said. "But I'm afraid I will require your assistance one last time."
She frowned. Edmund and Lucy knew very clearly this was their last time; why wouldn't it be the same for her?
"Your destiny isn't the same as theirs, Olivia."
Oh. Right. God-like-mind-reading-abilities. Aslan chuckled. Sometimes, she tended to forget he wasn't like her; it seemed so easy to talk to him, to be his friend.
She knew her destiny couldn't be the same as theirs: no destinies were the same. But the way Aslan said it was as if it would be an entirely different thing like she would go to a different reality than they would.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, there is a final prophecy. The others might not return, but life here will continue. And so will the problems. In the future, a problem will rise; a grave problem." The lion cleared his throat. "When faith is lost, its restore will have a cost. When all else fails, all attempts frail, It means Narnia is at its end, and help will be sent."
"It doesn't exactly rhyme."
Aslan chuckled again. "My point is, Olivia, your time is over, for now. First, I ask you to give up on your things."
Olivia looked at her spear, safely tucked in her saddle. "You mean..." She trailed off, but the question was still very clear. There were no words, but her growing sadness hung in the air like a meteor, ready to come crashing down.
"We cannot cling to the past. The wisest thing, always, is to move on. Never forget, but never be stuck."
She signed but nodded. "I understand."
Aslan smiled in approval. "Now, your spear, if you may."
Giving up on her spear felt like giving up on her battles. The intricate ornament, the careful details, her little initials: OKO. Her weapon carried many memories of victories; giving up on it was like saying she would not be fighting again.
With both her hands, Olivia held the spear high and watched as it evaporated into nothing, transforming into small colourful particles and poof! It was gone.
"Your ring,"
Olivia's breath hitched. She had two rings in her hand; at least the other one would still be with her. The little golden ring with the pink flowers had practically become a part of her body: she got used to the weight of it on her finger and how it added love to her soul.
