A Journey That Changed The World

After watching the human run, Archer finally looked away from the field of corpses. ”Because legends don’t spread themselves,” he expressed. ”They’re carried by the ones who were allowed to walk away.”

The trio couldn’t help but smile. Brooke stepped forward, looking concerned. ”Why are you doing all this? Impaling these people will eat away at your soul, my Little Light.”

”Because of you girls and the children,” he answered honestly, choosing not to hide anything. ”When I had no hope, no love or anything in life, you girls entered and became my light.”

Archer motioned toward the burning battlefield. ”I do all this so you and my children will live in paradise, under one ruler, no more petty wars. They will grow up unlike any of us did, no hate, no hostility. It’s the reason I’m investing so much.”

”So the cruelty is for the family?” Brooke countered.

”Yes, it is, and to be even more honest, I’d go further if it means you lot can live happily.”

Archer waved his hand, and a shimmering portal bloomed open, linking the battlefield to the quiet heart of the palace. He stepped through without hesitation, emerging in the sunlit nursery. Freya was there, playing on the rug. The moment she sensed him, her small head whipped around.

Her violet eyes widened, and a radiant smile lit her face. She scrambled to her feet, gripping the edge of a nearby chair for balance as she toddled toward him. The sight sent a rush of warmth through his chest, fierce and overwhelming. He shook off the lingering echoes of battle and closed the distance in two strides, dropping to one knee beside her.

”Hello, my lovely,” he murmured, voice soft as he brushed a stray strand of white hair from her face. ”I’ve missed you more than you know.”

Freya answered with a squeal and launched herself at him. Archer caught her effortlessly, gathering her close against his chest. She nestled there contentedly, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck, a blissful smile curving her lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the familiar scent of her.

”I love you, Frey,” he whispered. ”You and all your siblings, so much it hurts.”

Archer straightened slowly, cradling Freya against his shoulder as he drank in the sight of her, his fierce little girl, already so much bigger than the fragile newborn he’d first held. Time moved too fast in this life of his. A soft patter of hands and knees on the polished floor drew his gaze to the doorway.

Kela and Neoma, drawn by the low rumble of his voice from the adjoining playroom, appeared side by side, crawling with speed. Their curls bounced as they raced each other toward him, chubby faces glowing. His heart seemed to swell until it filled his chest. His smile broke wide and unguarded.

He shifted Freya gently to one hip and sank to his knees, opening his free arm just in time. The twins barreled into him, letting out happy squeals, tiny hands grasping at his shirt. Archer gathered them both close, one under each arm, and showered their soft cheeks with kisses, first Kela, then Neoma, then Kela again, until they dissolved into giggles.

”My brave ones,” he murmured, voice thick with affection as he nuzzled their hair, pampering them with gentle strokes and whispered praise. ”Dad’s home. I’ve missed every single one of your smiles.”

Archer lingered a moment longer with the three little ones, then rose and carried Freya into the next playroom. The space hummed with activity, ten more children scattered across the rugs, absorbed in their own small worlds: stacking soft blocks, patting at floating motes, or turning the pages of books that whispered soft illustrations to life.

The instant he stepped fully into view, every tiny head turned. Recognition sparked in wide eyes. The room filled with the patter of feet and the rustle of hurried crawling as his children abandoned their toys and converged on him in a joyful, wordless rush. Aslan and Tarek reached him first, toddling as fast as their legs allowed.

Aslan’s fluffy white lion ears are twitching with excitement, and Tarek’s eyes are shining. Their sisters followed close behind, some on unsteady feet, others still scooting on hands and knees, all of them beaming with pure, silent delight. He lowered Freya gently to the floor amid her siblings, then sank cross-legged onto the rug, arms open wide.

One by one, they came to him, clambering into his lap, pressing against his sides, nestling under his arms, until he was surrounded by a warm, wriggling pile of his youngest children. He welcomed each with soft touches, kisses pressed to each forehead, and murmurs of their names.

Finally, the boys claimed the coveted spots in his lap, snuggling in close as he held them close. Archer wrapped an arm around each one, pulling them against his chest. Aslan tilted his head back, those soft lion ears, perfect echoes of his mother’s, flicking happily. His big blue eyes sparkled with the same mischievous light Nala carried.

When he offered a wide, gummy grin, the little dimples in his cheeks appeared like secret gifts. The sight melted him all over again. Tarek burrowed contentedly against his other side, white hair as stark as his own, but with Nefertiti’s luminous pink eyes glowing up at him. His warm, deeper-toned skin spoke clearly of his mother’s heritage.

Yet when Archer rested a palm over the boy’s heart, he felt the unmistakable rhythm of his own blood answering back. None of them spoke yet, their voices still waiting somewhere in the future, but they didn’t need words. Their small hands clutching his shirt, their trusting weight against him, their bright, adoring gazes said everything.

Archer bowed his head, pressing lingering kisses to each tousled crown. ”I’m home, my loves,” he whispered, voice thick. ”I’m finally home.”

He lingered on the rug until the light through the windows turned golden with late afternoon. They had begun to doze in the warmth of the pile, but the older ones, those who had personalities, were not ready to let him go. He shifted carefully, lifting Selina into the crook of one arm so the sleeping baby could stay curled against his chest.

While sitting there, Aslan grabbed him, causing a shock to rush through his body as he witnessed a vision. His chest tightened as the vision sharpened. The warmth of Aslan’s small hand against his own became a conduit, pulling him forward into a moment yet to come, shocking him to the core.

The golden light of the nursery faded, replaced by the brilliance of sunlight streaming through tall stained-glass windows. In front of him stood Aslan, but not as a toddler, not as the child who had just curled into his lap. He was older now, tall and confident, his short white hair strikingly like his own.

But the lion ears atop his head, flicking ever so slightly, mirrored Nala’s perfectly. The bright blue of his eyes burned with the same mischievous spark that he recognized, the same warmth he had carried all his life. His son’s gaze was on a young human woman standing beside him, her hands brushing lightly against his arm.

Archer didn’t recognize her at first. Her hair fell in gentle waves, eyes shining with quiet devotion. And yet the way she looked at Aslan, the tilt of her head, the small smile lighting her lips, was undeniably familiar. The same soft adoration he had known from Nala, the same look that had always made his heart twist with happiness and longing.

The room was decorated with white flowers, ribbons, and candles flickering softly, lighting up the hall he found himself in. A small crowd had gathered, and Aslan and the woman stood before a grand officiant. Archer’s pulse quickened after realizing what was happening; it was a wedding.

His son was getting married. He felt an unexpected warmth flood through him, a fierce pride and an overwhelming joy. This was the life he had fought for, the paradise he had dreamed of creating for hisfamily. Here, in this vision, Aslan was safe, loved, and cherished, surrounded by happiness he had only hoped to give.

The bride laughed softly at something Aslan said, and he caught the way Aslan’s ears twitched in delight, the same gesture Nala shows him throughout their long relationship. The echo of her love reflected in this young woman’s gaze made Archer’s chest swell. He wanted to step into the vision, to witness it fully.

Yet even as he blinked, the image burned bright in his mind: Aslan, his mirror, standing tall and radiant, and beside him, a woman who loved him the way Archer had beenloved by his harem. A happy-filled laugh escaped him. ”You’ll be happy,” he whispered. ”All of you, all of you will be happy.”

Archer continued watching until he was dragged back to reality, only to hear knocking on the door. It opened only to reveal one of his only friends, Lioran, who spotted him holding Aslan and all the other children, causing him to smile. ”Looks like my brother is a great father, they all love you.”