Lyra sighed, sitting on the bench in the Oxford Botanical Garden. Pan, distracted by a peacock daemon perched nearby, was tilting his head lightly in its direction.
The girl held her arms around her, and looked at the plants that surrounded the bench. It was her bench. Hers and Will's. It was their link through the fine tissue of the worlds.
She gazed at an old clock, watching as the seconds flew by patiently, teasing her.
"Come on. Be noon." She hissed through clenched teeth. Pan, in his pine marten form, snapped impatiently at the peacock and it flew away towards its human. He then jumped onto Lyra's lap and curled there. She ran her fingers through his soft, golden fur and remembered briefly how it had felt wonderful when Will did the same thing to Pan.
Both of them shivered at the lovely memory.
And suddenly, noon struck.
Lyra looked up, her eyes filled with tears, as memories of her love flashed one after the other in her mind, so quickly she barely saw them. Pan shivered, his little body trembling.
And suddenly, for the third time since she parted with Will, she felt that soothing sensation she got every midsummer at noon on the bench of the Oxford Botanical Gardens.
Three years had passed since Lyra Silvertongue left Will. And not once had she stopped thinking of him. . .she missed him. . .a lot.
Will sat down on the bench of his own Oxford's Botanical Garden, just as noon struck.
As soon as he sat, he felt kind of a warm feeling inside, like someone he loved had cuddled to him. Someone like Lyra.
Kirjava, invisible to the eyes of the people of Will's world, leaped on his lap, sharing the feeling. She purred as Will scratched her behind her cat ears. The daemon never spoke to say nothing, just as Will. And the boy had been very quiet for the past few years.
Sure, he was happy that his mother was back with him; under a good treatment at the house he shared with Mary Malone, who had gotten back into researching. And his hand had healed, and no apparent scar showed that he ever had a wound, except the apparent lack of two of his fingers. He was happy with the new school he went at. None of this was the cause of his pain.
No. . .he had stopped talking because his heart was thorn apart by his separation from Lyra.
He had sworn to her he would love someone else after they parted, and she had sworn the same thing, but he hadn't done it. At the new school he went to, many girl though he was brave to have suffered the 'accident' that had made him loose his fingers, and a few had asked him out.
But he had refused; telling them there was someone in his heart already. Questions had been asked, but he had answered, thanking the skills for lying Lyra had left behind with him. Another memory of her. . .
A tear slid down Will's cheek and Kirjava was quick to wipe it off with her tail, knowing how he hated others to see him cry.
The warm feeling inside of him faded, and he knew Lyra, somewhere so close yet so far and unreachable, had gotten up, getting ready to leave.
He mimicked her unseen moves, getting up, and walking quietly into the blazing sunlight.
Fifteen-year-old Will sighed as he faced a busy street of Oxford, wondering what Lyra looked like after three years.
"Dame Hannah!" Lyra shouted, jumping up.
The woman, dressed in dull, grayish clothes, her fading hair tied in a knot of her head, turned around and smiled at the sight of the fifteen-year-old.
Lyra ran over, her beautiful blond hair flying around her shoulders, slightly longer than it had been when she parted Will. Her eyes showed no trace of tears, even though a few more had fallen mere seconds ago, and Pan greeted the elderly woman's daemon.
"Hello, Lyra dear. How are you?' She asked kindly. The girl smiled bravely, but there was something fake about her smile.
"I'm alright, Dame Hannah. How are you?" Lyra asked back, polite.
"I'm alright. As good as I'll get, you know. And what might you be doing here?"
Dame Hannah did not know, but Lyra had suddenly constricted on the inside with anger. Pan's fur rose slightly, but the other daemon didn't notice either.
'It's none of her business.' Lyra snarled in her head, angry that someone had questioned on such a. . .personal subject. She was here for Will, and no one was to know about that. She protected her midsummer secret with absurd jealousy.
"Oh. . .you know. Just looking around. Oxford is such a pretty place. . ." She said lightly, in a fake voice, looking around as if she was interested.
Dame Hannah nodded.
"Indeed. But I won't keep you. Run along and have fun during your summer vacation. I'll see you again when you come back to school for autumn. Until then, I'll keep out of your mind, alright?" The lady smiled, and Lyra nodded curtly, turning around with a weak and false smile.
She picked up Pan and ran back to the bench as the lady walked deeper into the Gardens.
She sat down, but the warm feeling that told her Will was there was gone. He had surely left when he felt she wasn't there anymore.
With a sigh, Lyra got up and walked away, Pan trotting at her side.
Will turned in his sleep with a mumble. His room was dark, and the whole house was silent. Both his mother and Mary Malone were asleep, both in their own rooms.
And Will was having an odd dream.
Something told him the dream was happening in a near or distant future, in a time he didn't know. But it felt like it was happening not too far from the present time.
He saw Lyra. She wasn't that much different than from three years ago, with her blond hair and sparkly eyes. But her hair was smoother and longer, and her eyes were even smarted and more furiously alive. Pan was the same as he remembered, but he also looked smarter.
And both had the same love around them.
But then Will saw something odd. He saw Dust. At first, it wasn't that odd; it was the pretty, sand-like sparkle he once saw. He saw it floating in a powerful halo around Lyra and Pan. She looked happy, and like she was about to tell him something important.
But suddenly, Lyra looked like she was hurt. She bent over and groaned, without making a sound.
He couldn't hear her, but he saw she was calling to him. Pan was screaming for Kirjava. Both looked like they were in much pain, and getting weaker.
Will couldn't see why; they weren't harmed physically, but he suddenly noticed that the Dust was flowing away from both of them.
He called for her, but she couldn't hear him either. Every part of his own body hurt as he watched her die. The Dust was flowing away faster and faster, and Pan suddenly disappeared.
Will screamed. He tried to move and do something, but he was like trapped; he could make no movement. He was frozen there, in the darkness, watching as his loved one fell to the ground slowly.
Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he tried to wake up, groaning in his sleep, twisting violently in his bed.
"Lyra. . ." He called.
And before his eyes, in his dream, Lyra's body faded.
At her place stood a huge black wolf, barely distinguishable from the black background. It looked at him with its huge black eyes and growled lightly. Somehow, Will felt that this wolf was a daemon. And beside it appeared a thin, aerodynamic horse with fiery red eyes. It was also a daemon; Will knew it.
'We know you wish to see her.' The wolf said. But it talked mentally; not like an ordinary daemon.
'We have shown you what will happen.' The horse added, in the same mental voice.
'We will meet again. Watch for us. We will come and you will understand.' The wolf
completed, and turned around along with the horse.
"What do you want?" Will shouted out after them, having regained control of his voice.
Neither turned around, but Will got a clear mental picture of the Subtle knife, and with a gasp woke up in his bed, sheets wrapped around him like a straightjacket.
"Kirjava!" He immediately whispered, unnerved by the fact his daemon wasn't there. He didn't like being apart from her. Sure, she stayed home sometimes when he went to school, but there were times he really needed her.
The cat daemon pounced onto his bed, and Will twitched, surprised by this sudden appearance.
He quickly explained his dream to her.
Kirjava frowned, looking very grave in the pale light of the moon.
"They are after the Subtle knife?" She asked quietly, terribly serious.
"Well, that's not quite the impression I got. . .it's more like they're after a part of it."
Will frowned like his daemon. The words made no sense, but somehow, they did. It was a strange feeling.
Both of them glanced absent-mindedly at the leather case containing the ten or so pieces of the knife, which lay on Will's desk, as a reminder of his adventures.
They wondered whose daemon these were, and how they had found Will, who had the knife, and how come they even knew about the Subtle knife.
And just what had that part about Lyra meant? Was she in danger? Will swallowed heavily when he thought that he had no way of helping her if she was.
YAY! First chappy. This is the first HDM story I'm writing. I hope it's good. . .I know it was short, and I swear next chappy will be longer.