Ly … ra …

A leaden silence enveloped Lyra. She could see nothing more, hear nothing more except for a faint echo in the distance.

Lyra …

That voice …

Lyra … wake … up …

She wanted to get up, run towards the voice calling her, but she couldn't lift her body which felt heavier than a bag of stones.

"Lyra! Lyra, wake up!"

Lyra opened her eyes abruptly. Pantalaimon was there, a few inches from her face, trembling with worry, and she was lying with her nose in the dust and debris. The sounds and smells brought her back to reality. Everything seemed distorted. People were bustling around her, shouting, running, calling for help. She tried to sit up, propping herself up with her left hand, but a sharp, burning pain shot through her arm. She let out a cry and fell back to the ground. Using her other hand, she managed to sit up. Her skull seemed about to explode and her ears were ringing, a metallic smell reached her nostrils. She brought her hand to her forehead and saw with horror that she was bleeding. She cast a panicked look at her daemon, who was kneading his knees with anxiety.

"What happened?" she asked, her mouth gritty with dust.

"There were explosions," replied Pantalaimon. "Can you stand up? We need to get out of here now!"

Lyra got to her feet hardly. Chaos reigned around them and she found it hard to get her bearings. That's when she saw Tomas's lanky figure hunched over the remains of the stage.

Louise!

Lyra limped over to them, avoiding the crowd running in all directions. When she reached them, Tomas gave her a despairing look. Louise was lying face down, unconscious. Lyra helped him lift the woman onto his back.

"We need to go, schnell!" he shouted at her.

They hastily exited the basement, with Tomas exchanging hurried words with a few participants, giving directions for the injured to be taken care of, with Louise still unconscious on his back. Outside, the night had cast its veil of darkness. They hurried under the dim lights of street lamps, long sliding shadows on the deserted sidewalks.

Upon arriving at the apartment, they rushed into a room to gently lay down Louise. The French woman was breathing heavily. Anke had carried Adolias in her mouth and placed him beside Louise.

"Lyra, go ring the neighbor's doorbell, across the hall," ordered Tomas as he began to unzip Louise's suit to inspect her injuries. "His name is Max, he's a doctor. He's a trustworthy person."

Lyra complied. The man who opened the door was floating in a pajama that was both too large for his bony frame and too short for his height. He had clearly been awakened by the noise in the hallway and the knocks on his door. On his shoulder, his lizard daemon squinted at Lyra.

"It's Louise," she stammered. "She needs your help..."

Without waiting, the man named Max crossed the hallway in a few strides and entered the room. He gave directions to Tomas, who made a round trip between their two apartments to come back with a suitcase. Lyra, in a corner, watched helplessly as Max worked around Louise, still inert. Casting a glance over his shoulder, he saw Lyra and addressed Tomas:

"I'll take care of Louise. You go take care of your friend there, she's in bad shape. And take care of yourself too!"

In the rush of events, Lyra had forgotten about her bloody forehead and injured wrist. Tomas took her to the bathroom and made her sit on a stool before rummaging through a cabinet. He too was in bad shape. His nose was bleeding and his eyebrow was swollen. Lyra observed herself in the mirror, stunned. The blood on her forehead had begun to dry, forming a large bloody scab. Her face was dotted with reddish scrapes caused by debris that had been thrown during the explosion. Not to mention her wrist, which had swollen and caused sharp pain.

"It's going to sting a bit, sorry," said Tomas as he soaked a cotton ball in a liquid.

His hands were shaking, and he clenched his jaw to stay focused on Lyra's forehead.

"Tomas..." Lyra said, still dumbfounded. "What happened?"

"The Magisterium, no doubt," replied Tomas.

"But... why? Why Louise?"

Tomas paused for a moment to look at her gravely. He threw away the used cotton ball and grabbed another to clean the small cuts on Lyra's cheeks. He recounted:

"When Louise arrived in Berlin thanks to the Network, we immediately understood that she was going to be important. The way she spoke, moved, became passionate... a true leader's potential, the kind we had been waiting for for years. And I, I fell in love with her immediately. Oh, you should have seen me the first time she spoke to me, a complete idiot."

He wore a sad smile as he cut a piece of adhesive tape to attach a compress to Lyra's forehead.

"She can gather and unite crowds with just three words," he continued. "She accepted this leadership role and she holds it brilliantly, as you've seen. In Istanbul, she was incredible! But it also means that she is a prime target for the Magisterium. Lyra, this attack is the proof we've been waiting for. Proof that the Church is afraid of us!"

Tomas had moved on to Lyra's wrist, applying cream and wrapping it in a bandage. She gritted her teeth.

"Louise is important to me...but she's even more important to the movement. Without her, I'm not sure the network would hold. She knows how to gather people, reassure comrades when they're afraid, she knows how to lead actions. She is a beacon when all seems lost..."

His voice had weakened. He stood up and left the room without a word. Lyra watched him enter the bedroom and sit down next to the doctor. She heard Max explain to Tomas that Louise had a broken arm and probably some broken ribs, that she had been lucky but he needed to watch over her until she woke up...if she does. Lyra shuddered. Suddenly, furious shouting echoed at the entrance of the apartment and she rushed to see what was happening. A man stood in the doorway, his face twisted with worry and anger. Upon seeing Lyra, he rushed towards her and grabbed her by the collar. Tomas intervened to separate them and the man who had grabbed her pointed a threatening finger at her:

"It's her, Tomas! It's because of her that there was this attack!"

"Don't say nonsense, Léon," Tomas temporized.

"Nonsense?" shouted the man named Léon. "Nonsense?! But merde! This girl that nobody knows shows up at a meeting and, funny coincidence, bombs explode under my own sister's feet!"

Lyra, stunned, watched the man storm off. Of average height, he had long brown dreads tied in a messy bun on top of his head, and his gaze was sharp, like Louise's... His face and clothes were dusty, evidence that he had been there tonight. At his feet, his badger dæmon snarled in the direction of Pan, showing off its sharp teeth. Tomas placed his firm hands on Léon's shoulders and declared:

"Léon, she's on our side. I assure you. She's the one Louise wanted to introduce before... before the bombs went off."

Léon stopped and looked at Lyra, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

"Now," Tomas continued, enunciating each word calmly, "please, this house needs calm, I need calm, Louise needs calm. Go home. I'll contact you as soon as she wakes up."

As he spoke, he gently but firmly pushed Léon towards the exit. Louise's brother wanted to protest, but Tomas' gaze was inflexible and cold. He locked the door with a sigh and rubbed his eyes for a long moment. In the bedroom, Anke had laid down next to Louise and was staring at her, moaning.

"What can I do?" Lyra asked in a low voice.

Tomas glanced wearily towards the bedroom.

"Nothing...I'll watch over her, as Max told me to."

"I'll watch with you."

He smiled at her, then opened a cupboard and handed her a blanket.

"Here. You should rest a bit first. It'll be okay, I assure you..."

Lyra took the blanket without saying anything. Before returning to Louise's side, Tomas added:

"This is an underground war, Lyra. It will take as long as it takes, but we will win. The Magisterium is based on a lie and we must fight to prove it. You don't have to get involved if you don't want to, but every bit of help counts."

Lyra didn't say anything. She lay down on the couch, covering herself with the woolen blanket, and stared at the ceiling, bewildered. None of this was planned. They were just supposed to take trains, boats, and zeppelins to the North, that was it. There was no question of joining a resistance network or escaping death once again. Pantalaimon climbed onto the back of the couch and stared at her intently. Outside the Berlin apartment, the sky was turning pink and gold. Without a word, Lyra turned onto her side and closed her eyes.

Lyra and Tomas took turns watching over Louise. When one was at her bedside, the other rested. They alternated like this for a full day. It was Lyra's turn and outside, the city slept under the veiled light of the moon. She had settled in a worn leather armchair and nervously picked at the cuticles on her remaining hand, watching the slow, difficult breathing of the woman lying in the bed. To make matters worse, her period had arrived and was causing violent cramps that drained her even more. Pantalaimon slipped up behind her.

"Lyra," he whispered, "shouldn't we go now?"

The young woman dismissed her daemon's remark with an annoyed gesture.

"Lyra," the marten insisted, "We can't do anything for them now... and we have a long way to go to reach the North."

Lyra pursed her lips and was about to make a sharp retort when Tomas entered the room, a cup of coffee in each hand. He handed one to Lyra and sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on Louise.

"Tomas..."

The blond man turned his attention back to Lyra, his features drawn with the sign of his terrible worry and lack of sleep.

"How do you know about...the prophecy and everything that comes with it?"

"The witches," he replied. "During a journey to the East, we met Juta Kamainen, the queen of Lake Vishan's clan. She told us that the winds carried your story and that it was natural for us to know. About what the prophecy tells, about how you killed the Authority, about how you participated in bringing free will back to the world, what we are fighting so hard with Louise. It must not have been easy to carry all of that within yourself, right?"

Lyra shrugged.

"I didn't want all of this...I even thought I had gotten rid of this entire story. And, to be honest, we didn't really kill the Authority. We instead … freed him. He was locked up in some kind of prison. And then Will opened it, and we got him out of there. He was so old and looked so fragile. Then he just … vanished..."

"Will?"

"The Bearer of the Subtle Knife..."

"...and your lover from the North."

Lyra gave a small smile. Tomas scratched his beard, looking thoughtful.

"In any case, Juta Kamainen told us everything. She said we had to spread the message to our comrades, that victory would be ours, that our fight was just. She also said we would meet you, and that it would give a new breath to our movement. The witches are always right, aren't they?"

Lyra didn't answer. On the bed, Louise stirred. Lyra sat up straight and Tomas hurried to the side of the French woman, who was moving her head slowly and groaning. Tomas was caressing her face and she opened her eyes with difficulty.

"Hello Liebe. How do you feel?"

He smiled, his eyes shining while Louise grumbled, raising her hand to rub her head.

"You scared us," he said, his voice stuck in his throat. "Stay still, don't move... Lyra, can you go get Max?"

She did as he asked her. Max hurried to Louise with his wallet in hand. Lyra stayed at the doorstep, watching the doctor's movements and listening to Louise's muddled voice, while Tomas held her hand. She withdrew to the living room and began gathering her things and tidy up what she had disturbed.

"So, are we going?" Pan asked.

"Yes, yes, we're going..."

Max crossed the living room, followed by Tomas, who accompanied him to the door. The doctor gave him several pieces of advice and Tomas thanked him warmly. Turning around, he observed Lyra for a moment as she closed her bag. They heard a faint call coming from Louise's room. Lyra sat on the edge of the bed and took the French woman's hands in hers.

"Are you leaving?" Louise inquired.

Her complexion had lost some of its luster. She spoke with difficulty.

"Yes," Lyra replied. "I wanted to make sure you were feeling better before I left. But we have to go now. We're expected..."

"Will we see each other again?"

"I hope so with all my heart... Thank you for introducing me to the Starling Network. When I arrive in the North, I'm sure I can talk about it with my friend Iorek Byrnison, that he'll be sensitive to your cause and that his help could be precious..."

"Did you hear that, Tomas? She's friends with the armoured-bear king..."

Tomas let out a small laugh.

"Come back to see us, Lyra Silvertongue," Louise said.

"I promise," Lyra replied.

She left the Frenchwoman to rest. Tomas opened the door for her before hugging her tightly.

"Thank you for staying," he said. "Follow the banks of the Spree, and you can reach the station safely. Be careful, okay? Magisterium agents are everywhere these days... Write to us when you can."

Lyra thanked him warmly and left the small apartment.

The first rays of sunlight appeared on the Berling rooftops. The morning mist floating above the river dissipated, giving way to the serene spectacle of the city awakening. Lyra and Pan walked along the riverbank, the dæmon ran more than he walked, going back and forth towards Lyra as if to urge her to go faster. He spoke excitedly, elaborating plans, despairing that Lyra showed no more enthusiasm. She had her hands in her pockets. The nagging pain continued to torment her wrist, and unpleasant knots overwhelmed her underbelly.

"For heaven's sake, Pan!" exclaimed the young woman, sullenly. "Go ahead if you're smarter! Run ahead! Don't wait for me!"

The dæmon was stopped in his tracks and looked at her, astonished.

"Lyra," he said. "I'm sorry to annoy you, but I'm just so eager..."

"Me too! It's not by stomping around and taking up space like that that we'll get any faster! Can't you just stay still for a bit?!"

"Why are you so angry?"

"I'm not angry! I... I'm scared."

As she spoke, she sat on the edge of the quay, letting her legs dangle over the calm water of the Spree, her eyes fixed on the tiny waves lapping against the dock. She sighed. Pantalaimon circled around her to place his paws on her lap and catch her gaze. Lyra lamented:

"What if all of this was just a mistake, Pan? I mean... we've been waiting for this day for so long that it seemed impossible! But... he's grown up, hasn't he? He's become an adult. I've become an adult. We've inevitably changed. What if we don't recognize each other anymore?"

"Of course we've all changed, all of us! It's natural, Lyra!" exclaimed the dæmon. "We weren't going to remain stuck in adolescence, and neither were they! How many years has it been now? Seven? That's a lot, seven years in the scale of our lives. Look at everything we've accomplished and been through. Of course we weren't going to remain the same after all that..."

"Yes, but..."

"Have faith in your instincts. I know I'm the first to complain about your impulsive nature, but for once, I believe in your intuition. And your intuition tells you to go up North and find them because all we need now is Will and Kirjava."

Lyra threw a small stone into the water, causing ripples to spread. Pan continued:

"It's normal to be worried. I'm scared too, deep down. But I think the joy of knowing we'll see them again outweighs everything else."

She rubbed her eyes wearily.

"I'm sorry, Pan, for my attitude. It'll get better..."

"I know. I trust you."

The river beneath her feet stirred. Shrill whistles sounded, and Lyra looked up. A convoy of gypsy barges was passing by, and on one of them, a man was waving his arms in her direction. Lyra's eyes widened.

"Tony Costa?!"

The gypsy cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted :

"What are you doing here?"

"What are YOU doing here?" Lyra replied, standing up.

She ran after the barge. Tony went back to his cabin to steer the boat towards the dock. Lyra took a running start and jumped onto the deck, diving into his sturdy embrace.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" he laughed, looking at her with a radiant smile. "When Ma sees you, she'll be over the moon!"

Ma Costa had rushed to the deck to figure out where the shouting was coming from. When she saw Lyra, she rushed towards her and hugged her tightly.

"What are you doing here?!" exclaimed the gypsy woman. "Oh, hello, Pan, I'm glad to see you! But are you injured?!"

While bombarding Lyra with questions, she led her inside the barge, made her sit down, and was already shoving a cup and a biscuit into her hand. She repeated her questions.

"I'm traveling to reach Northland," replied Lyra, devouring the biscuit. "What about you? You're far from Oxford!"

"Didn't you received our letter?"

"To be honest...I left several months ago now."

Tony had joined them and sat next to his mother. She wrapped her arms around her son's shoulders with a proud smile.

"We're going to Hamburg. Tony's getting married!"