A/N: This is a story with several different parts. The first is what
happened to Mrs. Coulter after she fell into the abyss. The second is
about the ghosts. And, of course, the third is about Will and Lyra, our
two favorite characters. I know I can't really live up to Pullman, but, I
mean to say, can anybody?
Mrs. Coulter was falling, falling down and down and down forever. The golden monkey was gone, but she didn't know it; she just felt a deep sense of loss. She was confused, but she didn't know about what. She tried desperately to think, but her mind was empty; all she knew was fear, and confusion, and the deep, unshakable sense that she'd lost something. She couldn't remember, or think, or imagine, or wonder, or even worry. All she knew, all that had ever been or ever would be, was the Stygian blackness of the abyss. **********
And all the ghosts from all the worlds looked down from their relatively safe ledge with true pity in their eyes; for they had no bodies, and longed to feel again, but they knew that she had no mind, and were sorry. But the journey had to go on. So they clambered their unsteady way to the promised light, and warmth; to the chance of feeling again, of being truly alive. But then the ghosts in the back were gasping and crying out in their little whisper voices with excitement, and they sent word up the endless line: newcomers! Some of them knew the names, and were overcome with joy, and their dead eyes almost shone with hope, and they sent the message of but three words up the line: Will and Lyra! ***************
It had been a long, long time since that tragic day in the Botanic Garden, and neither had ever stopped thinking about the other, or filled the gaping, ragged hole that their parting had left. Both had married, but neither had been able to love their spouse truly, and the attempted replacements were long dead. But Will and Lyra had lived on, both of them until they were in their 80's.
It was Lyra's turn first. She woke up one morning to find Pantalaimon, now grey-furred and ragged, wild with agitation; he could feel his atoms spreading out, and they reached out to each other; but then Lyra was puzzled, because his daemon heart was bursting with joy, and his last thought to her before they died was, "Kirjava!" And, suddenly, she understood, and her own heart leaped one last time with her fading daemon's, and she realized that Will must have died just at that moment, and that he would be waiting for her in the land of the dead. She wondered vaguely if the deaths had been coincidence, but she didn't have time to dwell on it, for she was beginning to feel the steady tug that the massacred villagers had felt in their disappearing world all those years ago; and she got out of bed slowly, and began to walk. *********************
Will woke up that same morning in his own world, and turned to wake Kirjava, but she was already awake, and desperate to say something. But she never said it, because her atoms too were pulling apart, and all she could manage was, "Will—Pan—" And he, too, experienced the revelation of understanding, and rejoiced, because Lyra would be waiting for him on the desolate little shore, waiting with their grim little boatman. And he began to walk, knowing that instinct would lead him where he needed to go. *********************
So they met, and Lyra cried out in her little whisper, and they tried to embrace, but they just passed through each other, not having anything solid to hold with. So they took the little boat across the lake in silent happiness, and told each other as well as Gracious Wings all about their busy, productive lives; but each was also remembering an emptiness, an incessant pain deep inside, that had never quite abated, and Midsummer hours spent weeping on their cold little stone bench, waiting for a response that would never come.
But they were determined not to think about that, never mind talk about it, so they finished their story and were led in high honor through the plains of the dead, to meet the ghosts. And, knowing that they had all the time in all the worlds, they let the ghosts chatter and exclaim over their sudden appearance, and answered their questions readily, and made the slow, terrible journey around the abyss.
And then, finally, finally, they had reached the window that Will had made all those years ago, and stepped through it together in infinite happiness to meet Pan and Kirjava, waiting for them.
And each of the four took just one atom from their hearts, and this join puzzled scientists for years to come, because they were the only four atoms in all the worlds that could not be prised apart.
Mrs. Coulter was falling, falling down and down and down forever. The golden monkey was gone, but she didn't know it; she just felt a deep sense of loss. She was confused, but she didn't know about what. She tried desperately to think, but her mind was empty; all she knew was fear, and confusion, and the deep, unshakable sense that she'd lost something. She couldn't remember, or think, or imagine, or wonder, or even worry. All she knew, all that had ever been or ever would be, was the Stygian blackness of the abyss. **********
And all the ghosts from all the worlds looked down from their relatively safe ledge with true pity in their eyes; for they had no bodies, and longed to feel again, but they knew that she had no mind, and were sorry. But the journey had to go on. So they clambered their unsteady way to the promised light, and warmth; to the chance of feeling again, of being truly alive. But then the ghosts in the back were gasping and crying out in their little whisper voices with excitement, and they sent word up the endless line: newcomers! Some of them knew the names, and were overcome with joy, and their dead eyes almost shone with hope, and they sent the message of but three words up the line: Will and Lyra! ***************
It had been a long, long time since that tragic day in the Botanic Garden, and neither had ever stopped thinking about the other, or filled the gaping, ragged hole that their parting had left. Both had married, but neither had been able to love their spouse truly, and the attempted replacements were long dead. But Will and Lyra had lived on, both of them until they were in their 80's.
It was Lyra's turn first. She woke up one morning to find Pantalaimon, now grey-furred and ragged, wild with agitation; he could feel his atoms spreading out, and they reached out to each other; but then Lyra was puzzled, because his daemon heart was bursting with joy, and his last thought to her before they died was, "Kirjava!" And, suddenly, she understood, and her own heart leaped one last time with her fading daemon's, and she realized that Will must have died just at that moment, and that he would be waiting for her in the land of the dead. She wondered vaguely if the deaths had been coincidence, but she didn't have time to dwell on it, for she was beginning to feel the steady tug that the massacred villagers had felt in their disappearing world all those years ago; and she got out of bed slowly, and began to walk. *********************
Will woke up that same morning in his own world, and turned to wake Kirjava, but she was already awake, and desperate to say something. But she never said it, because her atoms too were pulling apart, and all she could manage was, "Will—Pan—" And he, too, experienced the revelation of understanding, and rejoiced, because Lyra would be waiting for him on the desolate little shore, waiting with their grim little boatman. And he began to walk, knowing that instinct would lead him where he needed to go. *********************
So they met, and Lyra cried out in her little whisper, and they tried to embrace, but they just passed through each other, not having anything solid to hold with. So they took the little boat across the lake in silent happiness, and told each other as well as Gracious Wings all about their busy, productive lives; but each was also remembering an emptiness, an incessant pain deep inside, that had never quite abated, and Midsummer hours spent weeping on their cold little stone bench, waiting for a response that would never come.
But they were determined not to think about that, never mind talk about it, so they finished their story and were led in high honor through the plains of the dead, to meet the ghosts. And, knowing that they had all the time in all the worlds, they let the ghosts chatter and exclaim over their sudden appearance, and answered their questions readily, and made the slow, terrible journey around the abyss.
And then, finally, finally, they had reached the window that Will had made all those years ago, and stepped through it together in infinite happiness to meet Pan and Kirjava, waiting for them.
And each of the four took just one atom from their hearts, and this join puzzled scientists for years to come, because they were the only four atoms in all the worlds that could not be prised apart.