"It really is weird…"
After lightly touching down on the grass, Lyra turned to the two local boys chatting just outside the village shop. The one on her right was Ivor, an older teenager with a blond flattop, maroon tunic, and a dagger strapped to his hip. A dagger that he'd never actually used, one might add. The boy on the left was his friend Hugo, who was also blond, but had a pageboy haircut and a green tunic, and was generally less of a pain.
"What?" he said in reply to Ivor's spoken thought. "You mean that name thingy on the Guardian statue?"
Lyra glanced at said statue, noted that a cat was wandering around in the garden area there, and returned her attention to the two boys.
"Of course I mean 'that name thingy', you dolt!" Ivor snapped, though he appeared to wander back into thought as he looked over at the statue. "I'm sure it said 'Aqui-' something before, but now it's 'Lyra'…"
"Really? It's said 'Lyra' for as long as I can remember."
Ivor gave his fists a frustrated shake.
"And how long is that, exactly? Do you even remember reading it before?"
"Huh," Hugo mumbled, rubbing the back of his head and smiling nervously. "That's…that's funny…I can't say that I do."
"You see?" Ivor folded his arms. "Everyone around here's weird. It's only just changed and people think it's been like that forever."
Hugo's eyes lit up, as clearly he'd thought of something.
"Ah-ha! It must be the village Guardian."
"Don't be stupid," Ivor sniffed. "There's no such thing as Guardians. They're just made-up rubbish. It's only Erinn that believes in all that stuff. She's such a dumb…er…brunette!"
His last words were more than a little hesitant. Lyra sighed – the boy was clearly smitten, yet it came out in bad behaviour and being a general pain in the backside. Why couldn't he just go to Erinn and tell her how he felt instead of making an idiot of himself? A small boy happened to be passing, and looked crossly at the mayor's son.
"He's so full of himself," he muttered, then looked at the statue. "Please, Guardian Lyra, teach him a lesson for us."
Well, she could hardly refuse a request like that, could she? Grinning, Lyra went over to Ivor and, taking advantage of the mortal weakness of being unable to see Celestrians, she flicked him between the eyes.
"Yaaaaah!" he squawked, hands covering his face. Hugo and the small boy jolted in shock, then the latter grinned as broadly as the Celestrian, and he left behind some benevolessence that she swiftly collected.
"The…" Ivor stuttered, getting a hold of himself. "The village Guardian, I presume? Oi, Guardian! I thought you were supposed to help people, not go around hitting them!"
"Whatever happened to 'made-up rubbish'?" Lyra pondered smilingly as she left them to their thoughts. She wasn't usually partial to pranking anybody for any reason, but this time, she just couldn't help herself. And she was, in a sense, fulfilling her duty. Still, she supposed that Aquila could be watching her, so got down to more serious tasks just in case. Some of these tasks included cleaning up the stables, and slipping an old lady her lost ring with the help of the cat that she saw earlier. But there was a sobering aspect of being a Guardian – Lyra saved that little boy from serious injury when a shelf in his house collapsed and almost dropped a heavy bucket on him. His father gave infinite praise when the bucket mysteriously deflected into the wall, well away from his son. It was probably just her, but the benevolessence she got from him seemed to shine brighter than the others. Sooner than expected, night began to fall over the village. Lyra was, at this time, perched in the bell tower in the roof of the church, watching over her flock. Her first day as an independent Guardian hadn't been easy, but was immensely fulfilling all the same. And she loved helping people, mortal or otherwise. It made her feel good about herself, like she was needed and appreciated. Well, actually her reason for helping people was a constant source of shame – it was selfish to only aid the mortals so she'd feel better. But she supposed her confidence was more in need of attention than her priorities in life, and left this for another day.
From her perch, Lyra soon spotted a winged individual landing just behind the inn, then beckoning her. Dropping down and using her wings to soften the impact, she approached him.
"You are taking your new role very seriously, I am glad to see," Aquila said. Then he smiled. "What is it? Do you feel your master does not trust you to work alone?"
Well, that was exactly what she felt, but his tone was joking and she had already chosen to take his words as a compliment, so she smiled back. Then she frowned, noticing that, while no longer the village Guardian, he was in Angel Falls.
"Master, might I ask why you are here?"
He looked at her for a moment, seemingly contemplating the meaning of the question, before answering.
"It is my duty now to patrol the entire Protectorate. Though you guard it well, I must sometimes revisit my old territory."
That made sense. And at least he wasn't there to make sure she hadn't messed up already. Or…that was what he'd said. Lyra grimaced as the doubt came again. Did her master really trust her at all? Thinking back to the library, it had seemed as though she was promoted against his will. Perhaps he really did think of her as a fledgling. Or perhaps this was a simple act of concern – just wanting to check on her wasn't a bad thing, was it? Shaking her head, Lyra decided that she thought entirely too much, and instead listened to Aquila's next words.
"As I am here, Lyra, there is one final lesson that I must teach you. As Guardians, it is our duty to tend to our mortal flock. But this means more than merely watching over the living. Sometimes we must help those who have passed away, but whose souls continue to roam the land."
Lyra bit her lip – such a fate sounded terrible. It only made sense that, as a Guardian, it was her duty to help those poor spirits that were stuck in the Protectorate instead of ascending to paradise where they belonged. It wasn't long before she noticed the transparent blue individual by the village shop, wandering to and fro, apparently in search of something. Nodding to Aquila, and breathing out to make sure she was calm, Lyra put on her friendliest smile and walked the short distance over the bridge.
"Hmph!" the ghost said crossly, his back to her. "Wot's wrong wiv people 'round 'ere nowadays? Why's everyone givin' me the cold shoulder?"
Lyra said very quietly and politely "Excuse me." He turned to look at her, seemed surprised that she could see him, then harrumphed.
"Oh, someone who's prepared to gimme the time o' day at last! Listen 'ere. Can you tell me 'ow come everyone's ignorin' me?"
He sort of trailed off on the last few words, his eyes going to her wings and halo.
"…'Ang on a minute… W-Wot's wiv the getup, eh? Y-You ain't a… Oh, my days, you are! Yer a Celestrian, ain'tcha? So I've… I'm already… I've breaved me last, haven't I? Go on, you can tell me. I can take it!"
Lyra wondered if he actually could take it, but didn't have it in her to lie.
"Yes," she said as kindly as possible. "You have passed on."
The ghost nodded to himself, then sighed in what sounded like relief.
"Cheers for bein' straight wiv me, miss. So, basically, I've kicked the bucket, right? Well, it's a good fing you told me. When I fought everyone was just ignorin' me, I was about ready to do meself in anyway! But now I know wot's wot, I can get on wiv it and… Well, you know. Rest in peace an' all that."
Still nodding in satisfaction that people weren't ignoring him, he turned and took a few steps away, then vanished, leaving behind a crystal of benevolessence. As Lyra allowed it to pass through her chest, she heard Aquila touch down behind her.
"You have done well. Thanks to your intervention, a mortal soul has made its peace, and is now at rest. You will be returning to the Observatory post-haste, no doubt?"
"Yes, master," she said, having decided that her mortal charges were safe for now, and she could afford to leave them a while. Aquila nodded.
"Then I shall bid you farewell. I have much to do here in the…"
They both looked up as an ethereal glow passed over them. Above their heads was a velvety black sky with scattered diamonds for stars, and among them something carved a golden sparkle trail. Lyra thought she heard a kind of whistle.
"The Starflight Express," Aquila mused, unconsciously labelling it for her. "Indeed it has been unusually active of late. I have changed my mind. I shall accompany you to the Observatory after all, Lyra."
On the other side of the world, in the deepest recesses of a dungeon, a figure sat hunched. He had lost track of how long it'd been since he saw another living thing, just sitting there with chains wrapped around almost every part of him, cutting his skin almost to the bone after so long. Glowing symbols adorned the floor, along with grime and filth, yet they remained as bright as they had been when he was first put in there, keeping him weak for the longest time. And weak he looked – every breath was inhalation of the stench of urine, burning his lungs and throat and making his eyes water almost continuously, giving the appearance of sorrowful tears. No. Not sorrowful. Moving for the first time since arrival, he raised his head to stare at the ceiling. All the hate and misery and bitterness he'd fostered was about to pay off, and he was going to punish the ones who had caused it. Oh, yes. They would never know what hit them.
Lyra was immensely surprised to find both Aquila and Apus Major beneath Yggdrasil when she arrived, having managed to avoid Solaris on the way up. Where he was, she didn't know. But that could wait. Now, she was presented with this unusual situation that wasn't going to be explained unless she asked questions.
"Well met, Lyra," said her master, beckoning with an uncharacteristic excitement. "Truly, you have chosen a fortuitous moment to join us."
Standing beside him, Lyra realised that the tree had begun to glow with the same light she'd seen during her last offering. That glow intensified with her presence, strangely enough.
"Behold, Yggdrasil. She is ready to burst into fruit with all the benevolessence we have offered unto Her."
Both of her superiors seemed positively ecstatic, but she didn't really see why. Still, this was a part of her wider duty as a Celestrian, and she was happy to comply.
"'Fyggbloom hails the opening of the Heavenly Gates, and sets The Celestrians on the path to salvation…'" Apus Major said.
"'And lo,'" Aquila picked up where he'd left off. "'It shall be in the celestial carriage that we, the chosen custodians, journey unto the Realm of the Almighty.'"
He looked down at her.
"It is time, Lyra. Offer the benevolessence you have gathered unto mighty Yggdrasil. Do so, and She shall surely bear fruit at last."
Now beginning to share their enthusiasm, Lyra stepped forward and took the crystals in her hands, then gave them a gentle push towards the World Tree. Her hands turned to silhouettes as Yggdrasil became a beacon of gold light, but it wasn't harsh, and she felt no need to cover her eyes save for the sheer glory of what she was witnessing. Then, the light travelled up in the branches, gathering in seven glowing orbs, which then turned to some kind of fruit.
"Behold!" said Apus Major from the left. "The sacred fyggs bloom!"
The light was now only coming from the celestial fruit, and for a moment all was peaceful. Then Lyra's ears pricked up, as she heard that same whistle from the village. Sure enough, a quick investigation of the sky revealed the Starflight Express hurtling towards them like a comet, making a pass around the Observatory before hovering above them.
"Praise be! All is as it was foretold!"
They continued to watch the celestial chariot as it descended to the ring of pillars, where they could easily reach it. Lyra was a fair bit more excited now, seeing the fruits of her labours, quite literally in some sense, and knowing that it was all paying off. Aquila looked at her, and gestured towards the train, perhaps inviting her to go first.
Lyra's eyes became momentarily useless as something flashed blindingly, and a roar crashed against her eardrums. She instinctively raised her arms to protect her head, even though she was still blind, but then she found Aquila beside her, using one of his wings to shield them both from the glare. In-between feathers, she saw the carriages of the Starflight buckling upwards and coming apart with a metallic shriek that she felt rather than heard, and each then dropped like a stone into the Protectorate below. Stunned and in shock, Lyra just stared after them, thus she was blinded once more when a second, third, and fourth bright purple beam smashed through the clouds, taking chunks out of the Observatory's walls and flinging them up into the black, now starless heavens. Finally regaining some small amount of common sense, Lyra hit the deck just as Aquila had done moments before, and clung to the nearest object, which happened to be a root. He, on the other hand, had nothing to stop him from joining the debris in its ascent, though he seemed to be far away enough from the beams that he wasn't badly affected. A fifth and final beam had sliced through the stonework below them, and the platform shifted dangerously, making Lyra gasp in fear. While she had wings, she'd be unable to fly to safety with that thing so nearby.
"Wh-What is the meaning of this?" she heard Apus Major say from somewhere nearby, though it was difficult to make out over the roar of the beam. "Were we…deceived?"
The pull seemed to grow stronger by the moment, and Lyra was hard-pressed to keep herself flat on the grass. Then she went rigid, as her hand had just slipped. Fear made her grip even harder than before, but this was not enough, and she was suddenly flipped upwards, as if gravity had changed direction and was now pulling her into the bottomless sky.
"Master!" she cried, not even daring to reach out should she lose her grip. Aquila responded immediately, darting towards her and hanging onto one of the pillars, straining to reach his apprentice. Though every instinct within her screamed otherwise, she let go with one hand to take his.
Her right hand.
Her strong hand.
In moments, the weak fingers on her left hand gave way, and she was yanked upwards into the sky, still reaching for her master. Lyra screamed for all the good it would do her as she turned head over heels in her violent ascent, like a ragdoll in the grip of an angry child. In moments, the crackling light of the beam had filled her vision, and her somersaulting came to an abrupt stop as it pulled her further up, making her face outwards. The first thing she noticed through the haze of panic and desperation was a burning smell, then pain in her wings. Her hands went to them, but then there was a horrible wrenching, a series of cracks, and the breath was knocked out of her as something came off and agony ripped along her back. She had no breath, and therefore couldn't scream, only staring at the heavens with tears evaporating off her cheeks in the extreme heat. Then the beam was gone, and gravity returned to normal. Lyra didn't fight the darkness that rose up to meet her, watching as the Observatory soared away into the heavens, as she plummeted towards the Protectorate.