The morning after,
The Solstice was over. The magic of the Tree of Stars had faded with the dawn, leaving behind a simple, dark pine tree in the corner of the living room.
The daycare was quiet. There was no festive chaos today. There was only the heavy, suffocating silence of departure.
Caspian stood by the window, staring out at the grey sky. He was fully dressed in his travel gear—a heavy coat with the royal crest—but he looked smaller than usual.
Primrose walked in, holding two mugs of coffee. She stopped when she saw him.
He wasn't looking at the sky. He was looking at his own reflection in the glass, frowning slightly, as if he was trying to recognize the face staring back at him.
"Caspian?" she called softly.
He didn't turn immediately. His hand twitched.
"I know this face," Caspian whispered to the glass, his voice hollow. "I know who I am. I am... I am..."
