"Are you sure the window is there? Could it be in another street?"

For the fifth time, Lyra asked this question, and for the fifth time, Will replied, disappointed:

"I'm sure. We've passed by this window several times since we found it. I know its location by heart; it should be there."

And for the fifth time, he pointed to an area against a wall, between two trash bins. Pantalaimon and Kirjava had gone to explore other alleys, just in case, but returned empty-handed. Will sat on a crate, his back against a wall, and lowered his head. An unpleasant weight settled on his chest; he was starting to panic. Lyra crouched down and took his face in her hands.

"Will, look at me. We're together, we'll find a solution, okay? There has to be a solution. There must be another open window somewhere."

"Indeed," a voice said above them.

They looked up at a trash bin where a majestic snow goose had just landed.

"Kaisa!" Lyra exclaimed.

"Hello, Lyra Silvertongue. I'm glad to see you," said the dæmon. "Serafina Pekkala sends her regards."

Will and Lyra straightened up to face the snow goose, who nodded towards the young man.

"Hello, Will Parry. We suspected you had found a way to reunite. I'm here to confirm it."

"How did you know?" Will asked.

"The Northern Lights told us," Kaisa replied.

Will cast a questionning glance at Lyra, who shrugged.

"You were never supposed to find each other," Kaisa continued. "The angels were meant to ensure that no human would find the window or be tempted to cross it."

He paused briefly, his piercing gaze still fixed on Will.

"But you are no ordinary human, Will Parry. You are the Bearer, and no window can be concealed from you. Especially if you keep the Subtle Knife with you."

Instinctively, Will reached for his pocket, and Lyra understood that he had kept the Knife with him all this time. She grabbed his arms.

"Oh Will, that's exactly what we need! We have to forge it one more time and then open the window again, and everything will be resolved!"

Yet, he looked at her with terror in his eyes and vigorously shook his head, turning his attention back to Kaisa.

"There must be another solution. There are other open windows, aren't there?"

"Indeed."

"But why?" Lyra asked eagerly. "Why did the angels leave multiple windows open? It goes against what was mentioned before! Are the other windows also connected to Will's world? Why was this window closed? And for heaven's sake, why weren't we informed?"

Her rapid speech revealed her agitation. Will's hand slipped into hers, and her limbs briefly relaxed.

"I cannot provide precise answers to all your questions, Lyra," Kaisa replied. "The intentions of the angels are unclear. What we do know is that when the Bearer taught the angels to close the windows across the multiverse, they did so sparingly. However, they realized that having open windows in strategic locations allowed for a moderate flow of Dust. This regular and measured fluctuation provides unprecedented stability to the multiverse. We still struggle to fully explain it, but the facts are there. The witches were surprised by the angels' actions. They made this decision on their own and left four windows open between your two worlds, each at a cardinal point: one to the North, one to the South, one to the East, and one to the West."

"Five windows," Lyra corrected. "They did leave the window to the Land of the Dead open, right?"

Kaisa nodded. The alternative would have been unbearable to hear after everything they had endured and the sacrifice they had accepted to keep that window open and free the dead. Their joined hands tightened slightly. The snow goose dæmon continued,

"As for why the Northern window was closed, that remains a mystery. Each window should be guarded by an angel whose role is to deter beings from crossing it, in any way possible. Excessive crossing through can disrupt the delicate balance. The angel responsible for the Northern window intentionally closed it. We still need to determine why."

Will's throat felt dry. He had passed through that window several times, driven solely by the desire to find Lyra, without ever questioning why the window persisted or whether it was reasonable to cross it. It wasn't a matter of regretting his choice, but he pondered the consequences. He turned his gaze to Lyra, who maintained a focused expression, lips pressed together, and brows furrowed, hanging on Kaisa's words.

"Why were windows left open specifically between our two worlds?" she asked.

"Because of you two, simply put," Kaisa replied. "Do not underestimate your power, even across different worlds. According to our understanding, the angels decided to harness the strength of your love for the greater good. But this is still to be confirmed."

Will had the unpleasant sensation of having been used all these years. Lyra's clenched jaw confirmed that she too was largely dissatisfied with these revelations.

"Where are the windows, Kaisa?" she asked, stiffly. "You have to tell us..."

"One in the East, one in the West, one in the North, and one in the South," the dæmon repeated. "We knew that the Northern window was here. The research made by Serafina's clan revealed to us that the Eastern one is located in the Kingdom of Slam, the Western one in New France, and the Southern one in Zimbabwe. But these territories are vast, and we don't know their exact locations. The allied witches on these continents are searching."

Will felt his shoulders slump in discouragement. These countries were completely unknown to him, and he had no idea how to find the windows.

"However, Serafina Pekkala and her clan are not pleased with your reunion, you should know that. They are and will always be a support for you, Lyra, but by acting this way, you put yourselves in danger. I must leave you now."

"No, wait!" Lyra exclaimed. "We still have more questions!"

"You will find the answers. I must go and deliver the news of your reunion to Serafina. Remember that the fate of the worlds hangs on a delicate balance. Take care of yourselves."

With a powerful beat of its wings, he flew off, leaving Lyra and Will bewildered. These revelations provided answers, but they were by no means a source of relief. On the contrary, they felt fooled and quite angry.

"Let's go back," Lyra stated simply. "There's nothing more to see here."

Back in the room, they settled on the soft bench and Will pulled out the Subtle Knife from his pocket. He removed it from its sheath, placed it between them, and then untied a small black fabric pouch, carefully spreading out the collected and preserved fragments onto the cushion. Lyra and he spent a few minutes contemplating the remains of what had once been one of the most powerful tools in the multiverse.

"So, you've kept it all this time?" Lyra asked.

"I tried to get rid of it," Will replied, never taking his eyes off the Knife, "thinking it was a way to move forward, but it kept calling me back. I couldn't take it with me to school, but as soon as I got home, I needed to take it out and admire it. It's a part of me; I can't let go of it..."

The Subtle Knife brought him as much comfort as it did fear, and having it with him reassured him while also tormenting him. Lyra took his hand and looked at him intensely.

"But Will, it would be so much simpler... we just have to go to Svalbard, and I'm sure Iorek..."

"No, please," Will interrupted, his voice trembling. "Please don't insist. There's no way the Knife will be reforged again... I don't want to create Specters or jeopardize the balance of a world. It's terrifying and so powerful. Remember Giacomo Paradisi's words, the Knife has its own will, and I feel it every day... We'll find another window... because you're coming with me, right?"

He looked at her with hopeful eyes. He didn't feel able of doing all this without her.

"Of course, there's no question about it," she replied with a soft smile.

Will knew it, but he needed to hear it from her. Lyra leaned over to grab her bag and took out the alethiometer.

"This might be able to help us," she added, opening it. "This morning, Mette mentioned a delivery to New France. It could be our chance."

Will excitedly gazed at the compass shining in Lyra's hands.

"I knew you'd be able to read it again!"

"Yes, but it's challenging. The last time I used it was to ask about you and Kirjava."

"Oh really? What kind of questions?"

"It might sound silly, but I needed it to confirm that you were really there and that it wasn't just a hallucination."

Will made a falsely offended face, and Lyra continued, more seriously.

"It also told me that you two would face difficulties and... a change."

"A change? What kind of change?"

"I don't know..."

Deep down, Lyra knew that she was mostly afraid. The hourglass was a symbol of change but also of death, and she was terrified that by asking for clarification, the alethiometer would confirm the latter meaning instead of the former. Will didn't press further and fell silent to let her concentrate. Lyra took a deep breath and, turning the hands, exhaled slowly. The question "Where is the window in the West?" lingered in her mind, wandering freely, filling her body with a meditative drowsiness. Slowly, the fourth hand began to move, under Will's amazed gaze. Lyra's pupils landed on the symbols one after another. She let it go through its course a few times to ensure her understanding, then blinked several times, as if returning to reality.

"Alright, apparently the window is in an important city, probably a capital, but it's also a port city. It should be in some kind of garden, perhaps a park?"

Once again, she attempted to question the alethiometer for more details about the garden. And once again, Will, attentive, observed as she entered a semi-trance. The air in the room grew heavier. The alethiometer stirred and pointed to the helmet, the sword, and then the angel. Lyra shook her head.

"Maybe towards the city's administrative buildings? A courthouse? I'm not entirely sure..."

She rubbed her forehead, feeling a discomforting headache. Will placed his hand on her knee.

"That's already a lot of information," he reassured her. "It's still incredible to watch you use it!"

She blushed slightly, unable to hide her pride.

"The Captain has a significant collection of maps," he added. "She must have one of New France. Let's go ask her!"

He stood up, galvanized by Lyra's discoveries, and took a determined step forward, but before he could grasp the handle, Lyra swiftly closed the door. He turned to her, bewildered.

"What's going..."

Before he could finish his sentence, she pressed him against the door, kissing him passionately.

"Not right now," she whispered.

With a smile, Will slipped his slender hands under Lyra's vest as she firmly pulled him towards the bed, once again allowing their bodies to meld together.


Still a bit giddy, they arrived in front of the captain's office door, struggling to hold back their sniggering like two idiots. Mette was absorbed in studying a map with Hassan, her second-in-command, a large, angular-faced man with closely cropped hair and a swallow dæmon perched on his shoulder. Will knocked on the door, and they looked up.

"Ah, perfect timing," said the captain, "I have something to tell you. Hassan, could you please give us five minutes?"

The second-in-command nodded and left without a word. The captain settled behind her desk, clasped her hands under her chin, and fixed her green eyes on each of them in turn. She addressed Will:

"I'm sorry, Will, but she can't stay."

Upon hearing those words, Will froze, caught off guard.

"I'm right here," Lyra replied coldly, "You can talk to me directly."

"Miss Silvertongue, your company is pleasant, but as you yourself admitted, you can't do anything with your own ten fingers. And laziness is not tolerated on a ship."

"I'm not lazy!" Lyra protested, her cheeks turning red. "And I can be useful to you. I know the Panserbjørnes."

Mette rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"This is not the time for your pretty stories..."

"These are not 'pretty stories,' Captain, they're real! King Iorek Byrnison is my friend. Don't tell me that having armoured bears on your side wouldn't interest you for navigating and trading in the Great Northern Ocean. A woman like you must have already encountered the cruelty of the Tartars."

"She's telling the truth, Mette," Will added, "I've seen it with my own eyes."

Mette contained her annoyance but invited Lyra to continue.

"I know the witches; they consider me as one of their sister. The same goes for the gyptians; I've gained the trust of their king. You can't deny that these friendships won't be useful!"

The captain nodded slowly, suddenly intrigued. Determined, Lyra reached into her pocket. Will made a move as if to stop her, but she halted him with a glance. She opened and placed the alethiometer on Mette's desk, who straightened up, astonished.

"I can read it. It will take me some time, but I can read it, and I know it can be useful to you."

After avidly examining the compass, Mette looked up at Lyra, then her gaze shifted to Will. The latter was impressed by how things were unfolding. He knew Mette was a listener, but he also knew that no sailor dared to go against her opinion when she was irritated. But Lyra was not a sailor.

"Captain," he began, summoning his courage to face the captain's probable anger, "If you don't accept Lyra staying on board, I will leave the crew."

Mette's jaw tightened. It was not like her to be caught off guard in this way. She remained silent for a moment, tapping her desk impatiently.

"I'll give you one trip," she finally said. "You'll have to learn a job here if you want to stay, Miss Silvertongue. Having connections won't be enough. We set sail in two days; until then, it's up to you to find your place."

Will glanced at Lyra, who seemed to be catching her breath, just like him.

"One last thing," the captain added, "a few rules of conduct aboard my ship: keep your displays of affection private, the same goes for arguments or anything of the sort. Respect the tranquility and harmony of this ship. And, of course, no kid."

The last sentence hung in the air, making it even colder. Lyra searched for a response but remained dumbfounded. Will cleared his throat, trying to conceal his unease.

"Do you need anything else?" the captain asked, ending this increasingly uncomfortable conversation.

They shook their heads and took their leave, so stunned that they had forgotten the initial reason for their visit. They looked at each other without saying a word and walked slowly along the corridor. Lyra scratched her neck and sighed.

"I guess I'll have to become handy now... »

"I'm sure you'll do great," replied Will, kissing her cheek.

"Miss Silvertongue?"

They turned around and saw Morten wiping his large hands on a pristine apron.

"Come with me," the sailor said simply.

"Why?" Lyra asked, suspicious.

"I overheard your conversation with the captain. And it just so happens that I have a lot of work and could really use someone to assist me in the kitchen."

"Cooking?!"

The Dane nodded. Will, pleased that the situation had resolved itself so quickly, opened his mouth to thank the sailor, but Lyra turned to him, panicked.

"Maybe we can find something else, right?"

"Huh? I think it can be great, you..."

"Will!" she exclaimed in despair, "I can't do that! I don't know how to cook, I hate cooking, it DISGUSTS me!"

Will was momentarily speechless before bursting into laughter. Lyra scowled, offended.

"I'm sorry," he said, regaining his composure, "I'm sure it will be fine. Morten is a good guy, he'll teach you, you'll see."

"But..."

"Would you prefer working in the machinery? Or taking care of maintenance and laundry?"

He knew very well that he was poking at her aristocratic side, and she wrinkled her nose. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

"Don't you dare leave me, Will Parry," Lyra threatened, looking serious.

"Everything will be fine," he repeated. "You're in good hands. I trust you. Plus, I have to go back to see the captain, we forgot the maps!"

"Will!" she exclaimed as he turned around.

He turned back to send her a kiss.

"You'll be amazing! Morten, please be kind to her!"

The sailor extended his thumb toward him and then invited a disheartened Lyra into the kitchens.

As he reached the vicinity of the office, Will noticed that the door was open again, and Hassan had resumed his place, studying a map with the captain. They were evidently working on the route to reach New France. He knocked timidly, and the duo looked up.

"Sorry to bother you again," he began, "Can I borrow some maps?"

Mette gestured wearily towards her bookshelf.

"Help yourself."

He cautiously made his way towards the shelves, as if tiptoeing on a bomb that could explode at any moment. The captain's dæmon, perched on the edge of the desk, stared at Kirjava while nervously wagging his tail. The previous conversation had cooled the atmosphere, so Will quickly conducted his search. He returned with two scrolls and an atlas of New France in his arms and, at the threshold of the door, he turned around.

"Thank you," he said, "for Lyra. It means a lot to me."

The captain's jade eyes rolled towards him, impassive.

"Are you really serious about her?"

"Oh, yes," Will replied, feeling his confidence return. "We've been hoping to find each other for seven years."

"I'm counting on you," the captain said, raising an eyebrow.

Will nodded and left the room. On the way, he attempted a curious glance towards the kitchens. Morten was diligently explaining the basics of the place to Lyra, who was questioning him about the contents of certain jars or the refrigerators. Whenever the cook answered her, she made a horrified face.

"Is everything okay?" he dared to ask.

Lyra turned to him, crossed her arms with a sour look.

"Of course not, I'll have to chop onions."

Lyra's grumpy expression tugged at Will's heart, filling him with affection. He took a step towards her, only to be immediately stopped in his tracks by Morten's powerful arm, which made him turn around.

"Nope," he said seriously, "if I want her to learn, and if YOU want her to stay, you'll have to leave us alone. Besides, onions make you cry, and I'm not sure Miss Silvertongue would be thrilled to see herself in that state."

"Wait, chopping onions makes you cry?!" Lyra exclaimed, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"Alright, you have a lot to learn," the sailor sighed. "It's going to take a while, but it'll be fine. Now Will, off you go, you're already distracting us."

Will flashed an apologetic smile at Lyra, who watched him leave in a panic. Morten pulled out a stool, and she took a seat. He presented her with a crate of cucumbers.

"No onions," he said, "That was the only way to get rid of Will."

He handed her a peeler, which Lyra looked at, perplexed. She took it, unsure of how to proceed. Undeterred, the sailor positioned himself behind her, took hold of her hands, and showed her the proper technique. Lyra froze as she felt the man's warm breath on her neck.

"Oh, sorry, was that awkward?" Morten asked, now opening a cupboard. "No worries, I prefer men."

Lyra looked at him with wide eyes. He had seemed reserved and cold from their first encounter, so she wasn't expecting such revelations.

"Does Will know?"

"Oh, yes," the sailor replied with a knowing look.

And he didn't say anything else. Confused by his attitude, Lyra pressed further:

"What do you mean by 'oh yes'?"

Morten filled a large pot with water and casually recounted:

"When Will first arrived on the ship, I wasn't immune to his charm. He seemed distant and mysterious. I thought he was just shy, so obviously, I made advances to him."

The peeler slipped from Lyra's hands and fell to the floor with a sharp sound. Pantalaimon, perched on a stool and closely following the conversation, startled. Morten picked up the peeler, placed it in the sink, and handed another one to Lyra.

"Rule number one in the kitchen: cleanliness. Clean space, clean hands, clean utensils."

Once again, the Dane did not pour forth his statements, and Lyra, vexed, had to ask for more informations.

"What do you mean, 'obviously'? And what did he do?"

The sailor let out a hearty laugh at Lyra's bewildered expression.

"Absolutely nothing! He was very polite in turning down my unfortunate attempt, and I understood that he had someone else in mind. We became friends afterwards, nothing more."

He gave her a knowing glance, and Lyra adopted a half-smug, half-troubled expression before resuming her peeling attempt.

Upstairs, Will paced back and forth. He had spread the maps on the floor and started examining them, but his mind was completely elsewhere, one floor below precisely. On one hand, he was thrilled and relieved that Morten had taken Lyra under his wing, but on the other hand, he knew well enough the cook's dense cadence that would monopolize her occupied for far too long, much to his displeasure.

"There's no point in brooding," Kirjava said. "Let's focus on preparing for the journey instead."

They left the room and made their way to the infirmary, conveniently located on the same floor as the kitchen. Will set about taking inventory of his supplies and the remaining medicines, listing what he needed to acquire before departure, as well as the ointments, preparations, and macerations that would be wise to prepare in advance. The morning passed quicker than he had anticipated. Kirjava sat at the threshold of the door, keeping an eye on the corridor. When she saw Lyra and Pan coming out and heading towards the stairs, she alerted Will, who immediately stopped his activity and returned to the bedroom. Upon entering, he found Lyra sprawled on the bed.

"Are you okay?" he asked, lying down beside her.

"I'm exhausted!" she exclaimed, turning towards him.

"She only peeled a few cucumbers!" Pantalaimon retorted.

"It's still tiring," Lyra replied, giving him a stern look. "Look at my hand!"

She extended her palm, reddened from using the peeler, to Will, who took it in his hands with a smile.

"You're fine. But you might get some blisters. You'll come to me so I can treat them."

"Oh, yes! That's a great idea ! I'll purposely injure myself so that you'll have to take care of me."

Will burst into a clear laugh and kissed the open palm.

"I missed you," he said, holding her tightly.

"I've only been gone for a few hours!"

"That's already too long."

Lyra smiled in silence, enjoying these moments of respite. She had the sweet sensation that from now on, this would be her daily life. And it suited her perfectly.