The Deeper Magic

Aslan's Message

Susan found herself staring right into the eyes of The Great Lion.

"Aslan," she tilted her head curiously, in awe.

He was magnificent still, untouched by time. His fur was smooth and golden, caressed by the wind. His eyes twinkled and the light around him blurred softly. Against him, everything, the twirling emerald trees and the whispering wind and the rich dirt beneath them, faded away. 

However, when she reached out to touch him, her fingers floated there, inches from his mane, as if some cruel, invisible barrier had denied her. The lack of contact bothered her in a way that she could neither understand nor describe.

How long had it been?

"Hello, my child," he purred.

Thoughts upon thoughts ran through her head. What of Lucy? Had she too seen the lion? Was she somewhere near? She would be ecstatic to hear. Meanwhile, her brothers also longed to even bear witness of an element of Narnia, even the smallest thing to pull them back into the memories of the place once called home.

 Their world was no longer satisfactory. How could one go back to books and school and jobs and money, all simply means-to-an-end things, when you were once rulers of a kingdom of fawns and magic and wars? When you once knew a great lion who had saved you all?

The answer: you couldn't. 

Susan, though tied more to their world than perhaps any of her other siblings, subconsciously admitted that she was left searching after their reign, and again after they departed for a second time. No matter how hard she scoured her life, she found little significance in it. And so, she put on a mask. It didn't matter how much she may have wanted to return, because she wasn't going to. It was that simple. And so, simply, she moved on. She poured herself, her spirit, her identity, into convincing the world that she belonged there and her siblings that she didn't belong there. 

She was nineteen now, having successfully succumbed to the fact that she was over it.

Except, standing in front of the lion was so surreal, that now, she wasn't quite certain.

"Aslan," she inquired carefully, her brow creasing, "how are you here? Or rather, how am I?"

His eyes narrowed softly. "The line between our worlds grows thin."

"What?" 

"I'm afraid that Narnia is in trouble, Susan. In a way that we have never known before."

She blinked and her feet shifted. She felt a drop of numbness and her lips parted into an o. "What's happened? Who..."

She grew silent, and then began to laugh. "Actually, why are you telling me this? I'm certain you know, Aslan, that I am perhaps the least qualified." 

He only looked at her.

She paced. "I have a life now, Aslan. A good one. I'm finally with my parents again. I have a career set in place." She threw her hands in the air, not sure if she disbelieved more what she was hearing or saying. "I can't possibly go around now, chasing armies and rogue beasts in some strange world."

"Susan." His deep voice rumbled. "That is all well and good. But you have loved this world as though it were your own, and the people as if they were your people. Do not speak words which you do not believe."

Her face softened, and she felt a mild sadness. After several moments dragging through the air, she spoke with uncomfortable uncertainty. 

"I'm sorry."