"Timeless" - Narnian Autumn Writing Challenge - Oneshot Collection

"In Our Hearts, Eternally"

Word count: 913

Prompt: Bonfire

There was never a night just like another night.

Always, there seemed to be another star born in the night sky each day. Another ball of fire. A light shining. A hope.

Glenstorm smiled up at the dark blue of the sky above him, the beautiful twinkling of each star standing out. Beside him, Windmane did the same, her eyes fixed to the stars, her jaw clenched, her strong chin pointed upwards.

A large pile of wood and other dry materials sat in a large circle in front of him and his sons. The forest provided comfort for their bonfire. It was only them and the sound of night echoing through the vast valleys. Peaceful was the night indeed.

Ironhoof held a long torch searing with fire in his hands, and he walked slowly nearer to the pile, setting the whole stack aflame. He bowed his head and backed away from the talons of orange, "I can still hear him."

Something inside of Glenstorm had broken the day that Rainstone had been lost in the raid on the Telmarine castle. Something inside of him had been misplaced and would never return. Their youngest son— gone too early. Taken from them without a warning and behind a prison no one could have saved him from.

Rainstone, their baby, fighting bravely until the last moment. Giving up his life to fight for something he never even got to see the outcome of. He'd believed in a free Narnia. In a world where everyone could live together in peace, but he died before that was made a reality. Mostly a reality, the word peace was used generously, not including the small arguments or fights that broke out— based only on the general people. Most got along now— Telmarine and Narnian.

His mind wandered back again. Their baby, gone too soon. Still a child in so many ways. Still so much he could've learned.

"I can still see him," The crack in Suncloud, his eldest son's voice sounded like thunder rumbling through the air, creating a silence no one wanted to interrupt. Like they wanted the silence to speak for them all— but it wouldn't.

Windmane cleared her throat, "I can still feel him," She quieted a bit, her lips trembling, she touched her husband's shoulder, "Our baby..."

"We feel and hear and see all these things because he is still alive— in our hearts, in here," Glenstorm put a hand to his chest over his heart.

Imagining the face of his son, he bowed his head in respect and let a tear fall. Then he turned his face back up to look at his whole family, "His fire is out, but it still burns."

"In here," Suncloud repeated, tapping his own chest with a strong hand.

Silence came again, and this time, they let it stay for a little while.

And then, trotting over, Ironhoof tried a laugh, attempting to lighten up the mood, a worthy feat, "Do you remember when Rainstone thought there was a bear on the edge of the forest?"

"Yes. He wouldn't come out for days, feared it would eat him," Suncloud watched the fire in front of him, the flames reflecting in his dark eyes.

"Until I gave him some words of advice and a hug," A tear slipped down his wife's ethereal face and fell into the grass, glimmering in the light of the fire.

Glenstorm turned to Windmane, feeling the same ache in his chest that he knew the rest were feeling, "I thought he finally went back out to play with his brothers because I promised to go with him?"

She lightly punched his shoulder, her dark curls softly swaying in the breeze, "Let's just say it was because of all of us."

Nodding, he looked to his sons, "Now why don't we roast those apples like we were going to do?"

Ironhoof pulled five apples from out of his satchel and handed one to each of them, wordlessly setting down the leftover apple onto a nearby stump.

Sticking their apples to long sticks, each of them walked a little closer to the fire and settled their apples just above the flames.

A pang shot through his heart.

Roasted apples were one of Rainstone's favorite treats, he'd easily devour five in one sitting, but, no matter what age he was, he would always ask his mother to help him poke the apples onto the sticks and roast them.

"I remember—" Choking on her words, Windmane tried to speak, turning her apple above the heat, "I remember..."

"We all do," Glenstorm laid a hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek, "We all remember."

Ironhoof picked the apple up from the stump and handed it to his mother. She nodded and poked the stick through it, laying that apple too, over the fire.

"Brother, you were and are our fire, burning with hope and courage, never leaving, even if you fell." Putting a hand up to the sky, almost trying to reach him, Suncloud sighed.

What brave and smart sons he had— all three of them. What a wonderful wife, a caring beacon of love and courage. What an endless life he had; death would not consume him, Aslan's country still awaited.

Up in the sky, a star burned loudly, flickering but shining. Dead, but living in a new wonder-filled life. Eternally.

Gone, but forever in their hearts. A Narnian. A brother. A fighter. A fire. A son.