If you're reading this fanfic while waiting for the reunion of Will and Lyra, you'll have to be a little more patient ;)
In a bright apartment located under the attic of a small Berliner house, Lyra sighed with pleasure. The steaming bath in which she was immersed was more than welcome. She had folded her elbows outside the bathtub and let her fingers soak languidly in the hot water. She sensed that each of her limbs was relaxing, unknotting the pains and tensions that had accumulated over several days. Never had she felt so sore. Her knees were covered in bruises, her neck was stiff, and her swollen lip remained sensitive. Her body was a throbbing mass that made her grimace with every movement. Nevertheless, she felt herself slipping into an airy drowsiness induced by the bath salts that Louise had offered her. Feeling her body happily relax offered her mind the possibility of surrendering to more...pleasant thoughts. She thought of Will, his voice like a caress, his warm breath against her neck. Slowly, her hands moved up her thighs and she closed her eyes. But as soon as her mind wandered, the face of the guard returned and the sound of his sneering voice resonated in her ears. She tensed up. On the other side of the door, someone knocked. Louise offered her some clothes. Lyra sat up abruptly, splashing Pan who was nearby:
"N...no no, everything's fine! I have what I need!"
"Can I come in?" Louise asked then.
She didn't wait for Lyra's answer and opened the door ajar. Lyra pulled her knees closer to her chest. The Frenchwoman handed her a stack of clothes.
" Here, I'm sure they'll fit you perfectly. "
She placed the stack on a stool. Her eyes moved from the pile of dirty clothes and balled up at the foot of the bathtub, to Lyra, sitting in the steaming water.
"And to be perfectly honest Lizzy," she continued, "I'm not sure your clothes will ever smell or look...acceptable again. Take these, it's my pleasure."
Lyra wrinkled her nose. She admitted that throwing away her clothes in Istanbul felt good and she wanted only one thing: to burn the rest as if to further cleanse her soul and body. So she accepted Louise's offer, who smiled and closed the door, giving her privacy back. Lyra lay back in the bathtub again and looked around the bathroom where she was resting. Blue and white mosaics adorned the walls and sketches of landscapes and nudes were framed here and there. Under the window, a huge monstera plant eagerly turned its leaves towards the light. A large golden paulownia mirror hung above the small ceramic sink and in front of it were a multitude of bottles of different sizes and shapes. Passing quickly through the rooms of the apartment, Lyra had seen that the place was richly furnished with books, paintings, and exotic musical instruments. She caught a glimpse of a room that must have served as Tomas's studio. An easel, on which a canvas was being in progress, was surrounded by half-empty tubes and pots filled with brackish water in which brushes of various sizes were soaking. The couple had created a cocoon of softness and sensitivity in their own image. Lyra decided to get out of the bathtub, put her feet on the plush sponge carpet, wrapped herself in a towel, and inspected the clothes that Louise had given her: underwear, a pale blue silk shirt, and peacock green canvas pants. Lyra pouted, it wasn't really her usual style, but she wasn't going to be picky so she got dressed. The velvety silk brushed against her arms and back like a caress. She looked at her reflection in the mirror for a moment. She didn't like it. She looked exhausted and hoped her lip would heal quickly and the redness around her neck would disappear. The young woman began to rummage through the multicolored bottles. Each contained a cream, powder, or floral perfume.
"Maybe we could sleep here?" suggested Pantalaimon, climbing onto the sink. "A good night's sleep would be good, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, but we must head back North as soon as possible to find Will and Kirjava." Lyra reminded him as she applied one of the creams to her cheeks.
"If they're on boat, they're definitely slower than us," the daemon replied. "Maybe you could ask the alethiometer?"
Lyra closed the bottle, suddenly feeling moody at the marten's suggestion. She kept their shared quest for reconciliation in mind, so she tried to hide her doubtful expression to avoid hurting her dæmon's feelings. She grabbed her bag to get her alethiometer, but...she couldn't find it. She searched again, lifting her clothes off the floor, looking under the bathtub, under the furniture: nothing. Her throat tightened. Where was it? Had she lost it? No, that was impossible; she cherished it like the apple of her eye. Maybe she left it in her jacket? She opened the bathroom door and froze. Bent over an oak table, Tomas and Louise were deeply engrossed in a meticulous observation and were whispering with excitement. Between them, Lyra saw the alethiometer, open. Her blood ran cold.
"Let go. Of. That. Immediately." She hissed through gritted teeth.
Tomas jolted, dropping the teacup he was holding as Anke screeched in alarm. Louise raised her arms in a gesture of peace, holding the golden compass in her hand.
"We're not going to steal it from you, Lizzy," she said cautiously. "We saw the box sticking out of your jacket, and Tomas got carried away by his insatiable curiosity ..."
"Hey!" Tomas yelled. Louise didn't give him time to defend himself.
She continued to speak, slowly approaching Lyra and handed the alethiometer to her with care.
"We mean you no harm, Lizzy, or should I say ... Lyra?"
Lyra froze. She blinked several times, looking at the Frenchwoman who was watching her reaction. Beside her, Pantalaimon whimpered with concern. She took back her alethiometer and held the woman's gaze without losing her composure.
"Louise ..." Tomas whispered, his eyes flashing with panic. "What are you doing?!"
"Are you Lyra Silvertongue?" Louise asked, cautiously.
Lyra said nothing, her breathing quickening. The French woman continued :
"Are you Lyra Belacqua? The daughter of Asriel Belacqua? The one who killed the Authority?"
"My father wasn't alone." Lyra replied immediately, "My mother was by his side! For your concern, it wasn't the Authority but its Regent. The Authority died when Wi... "
She stopped, mortified by what she had just said. She grabbed her bag, her jacket, and put away her alethiometer.
"That's enough." she hissed.
Louise grabbed her arm.
"Wait, wait! Lyra..."
Lyra shook off her grip, her gaze steely.
"I don't know what you want from me, but I won't stay a minute longer here. Let me go!"
But Louise had grabbed her arm again. On her shoulder, Adolias was nervously hopping.
"Lyra !" exclaimed Louise, "We know about the worlds, about the Great War, about the Bearer, about the prophecy!"
Lyra froze, her heart pounding in her temples. She turned around with anger. A simmering rage flooded her body.
"You know nothing!" she roared. "You know nothing about my story! Let me go!"
"Lyra," continued Louise, lowering her voice, "Lyra look around you... we are on the same side... "
Then Lyra scanned the living room slowly. The books on the shelves had titles evoking studies on the Church, ancient mythologies, witchcraft, nature... on Dust... So many books banned by the Magisterium... And on the table, sheets of paper covered with handwritten texts, diagrams... Lyra was trying to understand. Louise invited her to sit next to her on the couch, gently pulling her by the hand. Tomas and Anke, still silent, watched them, their features drawn with apprehension.
"Who are you exactly?" Lyra eventually said, shifting her suspicious gaze onto the woman with the titmouse.
"My name is indeed Louise, and his is indeed Tomas. I am French, but I am here as a political refugee," Louise replied bluntly, not letting go of Lyra's hand. "In my country, I am wanted because I tried to teach freedom of thought to my pupils, by challenging the authoritarianism of the Magisterium. There, the Church has considerable power over the population, much more than in Brytain where it is put my head on the line, my apartment and the school where I worked were set on fire, all because I dare to express my opinions and contradict laws that are neither just, nor natural, nor justified. I fled to Berlin. Although the Magisterium has influence in Germania, Berlin remains a separate city, a safe haven for people like you and me. I met Tomas quickly."
Louise's speech was slow and assured. Lyra listened attentively, silent, with furrowed brows. The French woman continued:
"We are part of a clandestine resistance group called the Starling Network. We gather in assembly and discuss, develop action plans to destabilize this tyrannical regime. Our network is becoming more influential, we have many members here in Germania, but also in France and several European countries. Perhaps you have heard recently about the attack on Quai Jules Courmont in Lyon?"
Lyra nodded slowly. That attack had made headlines in the press. It clearly targeted a Magisterium building in France. There were many casualties, but the authorities had pointed the finger at witches and not a group.
"Well, it's our organization that's behind it." Louise continued. "And other actions like this have happened and will happen. Oh Lyra, it would be such a chance to have you by our side..."
Lyra jumped and quickly pulled her hand away from the woman's.
"What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice firm with anger. "I have no intention of joining a terrorist organization! I have to go North, that's my only goal."
Tomas, who had been attentive from the beginning, let out a joyless laugh. He sat down next to Louise.
"It's not just a terrorist organization." he said with the utmost seriousness. "Come with us. We can prove to you that it's much more than a group of bombers."
Lyra looked at him, then her eyes passed over Louise, who was looking at her hopefully. She stood up, stung by curiosity, cursing deep down this character that always took the lead.
"Okay, I'll go with you," she declared, "but only if you don't force me to take sides."
Louise and Tomas, reinvigorated, made her the promise. They hurried to pack some things: leaflets, a bag…
"Lyra!" called Pantalaimon. "Lyra! This is not a good idea! This is not what we're supposed to do!"
"You said it yourself." replied the young woman in a reassuring tone. "Will and Kirjava won't be in the North right away as they're traveling by boat. I want to know what this organization really is, Pan..."
Faced with her stubbornness, the dæmon gave up. Resigned, he followed Lyra, Tomas, and Louise as they passed through the apartment door. Anke, the Border Collie, trotted alongside him, Adolias perched on her head.
"You'll see," she said to him. "It's really worth it. There's a great energy circulating among the participants, it gives hope."
The marten dæmon said nothing. He knew Lyra wouldn't forget their main objective. He knew her too well to doubt her. But once again, she followed her impulse without listening to him, and it saddened him.
The group quickly crossed a wide avenue. They followed a few alleys, then, descending a few steps out of sight, they passed through a small rusted iron door. They walked along a corridor and Lyra heard a loud noise coming from one of the rooms. Passing through a door and a thick dark curtain, she discovered a crowded room without windows, illuminated by pale neon lights hanging from the ceiling. About a hundred people were there, talking loudly, with worry and irritation visible on their faces. Louise and Tomas pushed through the crowd followed by their daemons. As they passed, voices lowered to become an inaudible whisper. At the back of the room, an improvised platform made of wooden crates stood. Tomas helped Louise take her place at the top. Lyra leaned against a wall, a little apart, and watched the strange spectacle that was unfolding. Around her, people of all ages and genders murmured in English, French, German, their eyes fixed on Louise as she took her place. Some cast wary glances at Lyra and Pan. Louise raised her hand and silence fell. Adolias came to rest on her shoulder. She surveyed the crowd with a piercing gaze, her brows furrowed. Her bright green jumpsuit clashed with the raw concrete walls that served as a backdrop. The people gathered there watched her, concentrated.
"Comrades," began Louise "we are gathered here today in this fateful day to commemorate the memory of our comrade Tobias, who fell last week under the torture of the Magisterium agents."
The crowded group murmured with emotion. Louise let a moment of silence and then continued speaking:
"Members of our network retrieved his lifeless body from the Spree and the acts committed are... unspeakable."
Louise's voice broke for a fraction of a second, but she continued with a more positive tone.
"But if we are gathered here today, it is because we have good news! News that will give us a slice of hope in these dark hours."
She paused, taking slow and deep breaths.
"Tomas and I have just returned from Istanbul, where we attended a gathering of starlings. Yes! I tell you, my friends, our movement extends far beyond our borders. We are hundreds, thousands, perhaps even millions across the world!"
The crowd shivered, Lyra with it. Louise captivated her audience with her eloquence and charisma. Her words were measured, clear, and echoed under the low ceiling of the room. Each one present hanged on every words she said. Lyra held her breath, waiting for Louise's next words as she continued speaking.
"We hear of actions in the East, in the West. We hear of rebellions in the robust North, but also in the South. In my own country, people are organizing. Oh, the Magisterium tries to stop us, yes, it does! They spy on us, imprison us, deprive us of sleep, food, water. They torture us, mutilate us, kill us. But what they don't know is that we are not isolated and fragile little birds, no! We are a gigantic swarm, growing bigger every day, ready to ruin these fields where they sow their lies and terror. Oh, they can try to break us, but we will always rise up more numerous and stronger. Because our cause is noble and just! For freedom of thought and living!"
The crowd cheered every word, galvanized.
"For Tobias!" thundered Louise, raising her fist. Once again, the crowd cried out.
"For Anita, Katarin, Martin, and all the fallen comrades!"
The mass raised their fists, clapped their hands, shouting for justice and vengeance. Tears were welling up in Lyra's eyes. This powerful energy that spread between these walls made all her limbs vibrate. Louise took a deep breath and raised her hand to ask for a little calm.
"My friends..." she continued in a more composed voice, "Tomas and I have made an encounter that confirms everything that has been said over the past few years."
She scanned the crowd with her eyes. Her gaze settled on Lyra and didn't leave her. The young woman trembled. She shook her head, eyebrows furrowed. What was Louise thinking?
"We have confirmation that the Magisterium is dying in some places, that it is diminished, that it is afraid... we have confirmation that the Authority is well and truly dead!"
The assembly was swept by a wave of murmurs. Louise, still staring at a petrified Lyra, took a deep breath:
"I cannot express the honor and profound joy that are stirring in me at this moment! Oh my friends, if you only knew... among us, today, in this very room, we have the privilege of hav..."
She didn't have time to finish her sentence as a violent explosion shattered the crates on which she was standing. Another detonation, further away, and cries followed. The crowd was in turmoil, Lyra was searching for Pantalaimon with her eyes. A third explosion. She felt a violent impact against the top of her forehead and collapsed.