TW: Anxiety is present here. Take care of yourselves.
"Don't you know that I'll be around to guide you
Through your weakest moments to leave them behind you?
Returning nightmares, only shadows
We'll cast some light and you'll be alright "
José Gonzàlez - Crosses
The sequence of events remained confused in Lyra's mind. She remembered having sagged under the weight of Will's lifeless body, dropping the glasses she held at the time, letting them shattered at her feet. Morten and the captain rushed towards her, then hailed a sailor to help them carry the unconscious young man to his room. She had tried to wake him, shaking him, calling out to him, wetting his cheeks, rubbing his limbs, but nothing worked; Will remained unconscious. Kirjava, awake but also particularly weakened, remained curled up against her human, saying nothing. A deep panic seized Lyra for the first few hours. She paced back and forth in the room, sat by Will's side, took his hands, released them, touched his face, pleaded him to open his eyes, stood up to curse, cry, and strike whatever she could. She eventually calmed down when she realized that raging against nothingness would serve no purpose. She had to conserve her already depleted energy to watch over him. Exhaustion was so prominent that she could feel the dark circles physically digging into her cheeks. For two long days, she remained in the room, sometimes sitting in a chair, nervously biting her nails, sometimes lying down beside Will, watching his labored breathing. She spoke to him softly and held his hand in hers. Usually, she enjoyed contemplating the contrast between his amber skin and her own porcelain-like complexion. But at that moment, observing that hand, gripping those motionless fingers, choked her up. Pantalaimon would curl up against her, sometimes against Will, or reunite with Kirjava to rub his long auburn body against the cat's fur or affectionately lick her velvety head. Lyra had attempted countless times to question the alethiometer, but all she managed to do was become increasingly frustrated. She was completery unable of focusing on her inquiries. All that appeared in her mind was the hourglass, again and again. Occasionally, Morten or Mette would poke their heads through the door to inquire about the updates. The only response they received was a heavy silence from a burdened Lyra, overwhelmed by the wait. The cook would bring her plates of food that she barely touched. He tried to encourage her to eat, drink, or sleep, but she merely shook her head, her eyes swollen and red.
The ship was due to arrive in New France in three days, if not more. The storm had damaged a turbine, and the mechanics were busy hastening its repair. In the meantime, , the vessel advanced at a slower pace, and Lyra felt hope slipping away inexorably.
And then, as the sun descended slowly behind the grimy porthole of their modest cabin, Lyra sat up abruptly, seized by a flash of lucidity.
"I know who can help us!" she exclaimed.
Both dæmons raised their heads in curiosity. She hastened to her jacket. There were two things she never parted with: her alethiometer and the sprig of cloud-pine given to her by Doctor Lanselius to summon Serafina Pekkala. She had never used it before, and although her interactions with the witch had been minimal in recent years, she knew she could rely on her. She pulled out the sprig from a pocket and, pressing it to her, implored the witch to come to their aid.
"Do you think she will come?" Pantalaimon asked.
"She is our only hope..."
But the hours passed, relentlessly, and the witch did not arrive. Lyra's heart was inscreasingly filled by despair as she kept her gaze fixed on Will's labored breath. Her entire soul tightened when the young man's limbs twitched with spasms.
Despite the anguish clouding her mind, certain things seemed to become clearer within her. Between the separation from Will and the repeated arguments with Pan, she realized just how alone she had been in recent years and that she had never been as happy as in these past few weeks. An ancient, pure joy flowed through her veins, reminiscent of the one that used to make her body thrill as she ran across the rooftops of Jordan College.
And, of course, she loved Will. It was obvious. She loved his long, slender fingers and his warm voice. She loved catching glimpses of him immersed in his books, concocting his medicinal preparations. She loved his obsidian gaze fixed upon her during their conversations, their teasing, their laughter, and their lovemaking. She loved his laughter, the scent of his skin in the morning, that herbaceous fragrance that clung to him all day long, his habit of humming tunes she didn't know, or even the constant readjustment of his glasses on his nose even though they were positioned correctly. She loved him, she had always loved him, and now she felt like she was losing him once again.
"They can't...," she murmured absentmindedly.
"What did you say?" Pantalaimon asked, raising his head.
"They can't endure this, Pan, this suffering!" she declared, sitting up straight. "They could even die from it! We can't ask that of them!"
Kirjava, in turn, raised her head. She sat up and weakly moved to sit facing Lyra, whose eyes filled with tears.
"Lyra, it's a decision we made and do not regret in the slightest. We were fully aware of the risks involved in crossing the window to come and find you. Everything will be fine..."
"You can't say that, you can't be sure! You would be better off in your own world, that's for sure. We can't ask you to suffer like this... I- I don't know what would be worse, seeing you languish here by our side or knowing you're alive and healthy but far from us..."
"Don't say that," the dæmon replied. "We won't die."
"How can you know?"
"I know it, I can feel it. Please, don't lose hope. We need you."
Gently, the cat climbed onto Lyra's lap and fondly rested her silky head against the young woman's neck, who held her close.
"Everything will be fine, I promise," Kirjava added. "We will cross the window, and you'll see, Will will be so full of energy that you won't even recognize him!"
Lyra suppressed a small laugh that turned into a sob, burying her face in the cat's fur.
"I can't wait for you to see it," the dæmon whispered.
Pan joined them for a few minutes before a low groan was heard. Will grimaced and raised his hand to his forehead. The two dæmons released Lyra, who rushed to his side. He turned his head, his eyes slightly open, a small smile on his lips.
"Hey," he said in a hoarse voice.
"Don't move," Lyra commanded, her throat tight. "I called for Serafina Pekkala. She should be here any minute now."
She filled a glass with water and helped him drink.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Just great," he replied sarcastically, attempting to sit up. "Oh, fuck..."
He let his body fall heavily onto the mattress, clutching his chest and grimacing in even greater pain.
"Damn, it hurts…" he moaned, struggling to catch his breath, his face contorted in agony.
They heard protests erupting from the other side of the room. Lyra rushed to open the door and saw the captain and two sailors who were blocking Serafina Pekkala's path. A few crew members had gathered behind them, astonished at the scene unfolding before them.
"Captain!" the young woman exclaimed. "I'm sorry, I should have informed you! She's here because I called her."
The captain glared at her.
"I beg you, Captain Mette, she's the only one who can help us," Lyra pleaded.
Her voice broke with emotion. Serafina pushed past them with exasperation and joined her.
"I'm truly sorry," Lyra repeated, under the captain's sharp gaze. "Please, trust me..."
She closed the door behind them. Serafina settled next to Will.
"For how long has he been like this?" she asked.
"He lost consciousness almost three days ago," Lyra explained, as the witch carefully examined the young man's face. "The ship suffered a severe storm, I think it exacerbated his exhaustion because he had already been weakened for several days. He was trembling for no reason and constantly fatigued."
"He has been separated from his world for too long. The closing of the Northern window must not have helped. But you suspected that was the cause, didn't you?"
Serafina turned her jade gaze towards Lyra. They hadn't seen each other in many years, yet Lyra could sense a hint of affection in her eyes. Having Serafina by her side at this moment was comforting. The witch pulled out a jar filled with a greenish syrup from her satchel.
"It's a mixture of herbs from the lands of my clan," she explained. "My sisters and I take it when we spend too much time away from this world. It will help Will."
She dipped her fingers into the jar to extract some of the molasses and addressed the young man, who tried to follow what was happening, his eyes half-closed.
"Open your mouth," she said gently. "It won't be pleasant, but trust me, it's what you need."
Will complied, and she pressed her fingers against the roof of his mouth, then removed them and closed his jaw. He wrinkled his nose and eyebrows and was overcome by a violent bout of nausea. He tried to break free, but the witch's grip on his mouth was firm. She let her hand remain on his face for a few minutes. Lyra watched, bewildered, as Will's muscles slowly relaxed.
"I don't understand," she asked afterward. "Didn't his father spend more than ten years in a world other than his own?"
"His father became a shaman, remember. He trained his mind and body to endure pain, something that Will has not done yet. But Jopari spent ten years in daily suffering and was particularly weakened and dying. No one knows what would have become of him if he hadn't been murdered. Living outside of one's world slowly takes your soul away, Lyra. It kills you, don't forget that."
Lyra felt her heart grow heavier in her chest. The witch stopped for a moment before adding sternly,
"By acting like this, you put yourselves in great danger. No one can reasonably stay away from their world for very long. This syrup can help Will, as well as diligent mental work. But these two options cannot guarantee him constant mental and physical safety as if he were in his own world, and the risk of death is very real. He will need to pass through a window from time to time." She paused briefly then added "In the long term, there is only one viable solution."
"What is it?" Lyra asked.
But Serafina Pekkala remained quiet, and her silence lasted long enough for Lyra to start worrying.
"What is this solution? Tell us, I beg you," Lyra pleaded.
"A child," Serafina finally spoke.
Her words echoed in the dimly lit room. Lyra shot her an alarmed look, and Will's eyes widened. His hand tightened in hers, but he didn't move, hanging onto the continuation of the discussion. Lyra swallowed hard.
"What do you mean by 'a child'?" she asked cautiously.
Of course, she knew what Serafina was implying.
"Your love is powerful," the witch explained, never breaking eye contact with Lyra. "It has accomplished great things, fulfilled a prophecy. No one can truly separate you, even in different worlds, that love continues to radiate. But it is not strong enough to allow you to stay together without risking either of your lives. Knowing that you are reunited is a beautiful news, but also dangerous, as you well understand. Conceiving a child weaves inseparable bonds between two beings and, in your case, it will bind your destinies together, ensuring your lives and well-being."
Serafina's voice was deep, and she chose her words carefully. Lyra abruptly stood up and began pacing the room with agitation. An formless and heavy mass started growing deep within her, and a myriad of questions and statements clashed in her mind. There had to be another solution, there must be another solution. She and Will loved each other, but they were still young, they had things to learn about each other, things to experience together before... It was too soon, too sudden, too radical.
"This must be a joke," she muttered.
"Lyra, listen to me," the witch began.
"No, you ! You listen to me for once!" the young woman exploded. "Why does my life always have to be dictated like this?! What will you tell me next? That my own death would benefit the worlds?! Lord Asriel and Mrs. Coulter, my own parents, chose to abandon me rather than face the consequences of their actions and lied to me throughout my childhood. At Jordan College, they wanted to mold me according to their norms and dictates. My mother reappeared in my life after years and also wanted to shape me in her own way. Not to mention a prophecy that made me the new Eve and my behavior decided the fate of countless worlds. They tried to imprison me, they attempted on my life, I'm still being threatened wherever I go! I have never known tranquility in twenty damn years. And now, when I am cherishing the hope of a more peaceful life with Will by my side, you tell me that we must, that we necessarily have to have a child?! You can't just say it as if it's obvious and natural! Do you even consider what it entails?!"
Her voice broke under the weight of anger.
"You can't dictate every single action of my life," she declared, trembling and clenching her jaw. "Can't I be the sole authority of my own life, for once?"
Lyra looked successively at Serafina and then at Will.
"Will," she pleaded, out of breath, "say something!"
He still stared at the ceiling, frozen. His chest rose and fell rapidly, but he didn't turn his gaze towards her. Why wasn't he speaking? Why wasn't he getting up to hold her and tell her she was right to be angry? Lyra suddenly felt very alone. A wide crack spread within her, letting everything escape, everything she had controlled until now. The formless mass grew inside her throat, making it difficult to breathe. The silence from Serafina and Will was suffocating. She needed air. She left the room, angrily slamming the door behind her.
The heavy silence settled back into the humid room. Will struggled to sit up and settled on the bed. He closed his eyes, let a dizziness pass and then lifted his head to meet Serafina's piercing gaze.
"Are there no other solutions?" he asked.
The witch pursed her thin lips and replied, "Unfortunately, no. If you aspire to a life together, there are no other long-term solutions knowned."
She continued to stare at him for a long time. None of them looked away.
"You knew, didn't you?" she said coldly. "You were well aware of the risks involved. Your father had warned you."
He said nothing, keeping his dark eyes locked with the witch's while biting the inside of his cheeks.
"And you're willing to take this risk," Serafina added.
There was no severity in her voice anymore, just bewilderment and respect. She picked up the jar and handed it to him.
"The effects of what you have consumed will sustain you for several weeks, maybe even months. There's enough in this jar to last a few years. Use it sparingly; it's a very powerful drug. However, you will still need to pass through a window into your world from time to time. It is essential for your own survival. You'll have to find a way to cope with the distance and keep these passages occasional because, as Kaisa has already explained to you, repeated crossings can disrupt the balance that has been established."
"Thank you," Will simply replied, placing the jar next to him.
His mouth felt dry, and the unpleasant taste of the molasses lingered on his tongue. He shuddered with disgust and poured himself a glass of water, which he drank in one gulp before questioning Serafina, "But what if we don't want children? What if we don't have children?"
"Oh, you will," Serafina replied.
Will sighed and pressed his fingers against his eyelids. Normally, such news should have filled him with joy, but here... The witches clearly had more to learn about humans.
"Some truths are best kept until they come to pass," he muttered bitterly. "And what happens then? If ... when Lyra and I have a child? What will happen?"
"At that moment, you will need to choose the world in which you wish to live forever. And ensure that conception, pregnancy, and birth occur in that world and only in that world. The chosen world will become the realm of your lives and deaths."
"Does that mean if - let's say - I choose Lyra's world... I will never be able to go back and live in mine?"
"I'm afraid so... You will, in a way, become a full-fledged member of this world, as if you were born here. You'll have to bid farewell to everything you've ever known and accept this new life that will be yours, in this world. But I believe you've already begun to do that. Choose as soon as possible to allow yourselves the best chance to adapt. You are young, and you can succeed."
Will nodded. He processed the information, doing his best to think rationally without letting his emotions overwhelm him.
"As I told Lyra, no one can separate you," the witch continued. "And I know that you won't let anything or anyone come between you. She is the sun, and you are the moon; she is fire, and you are water. You are complementary and inseparable down to the tiniest atoms. The anger Lyra feels toward our world is justified and will take a long time to appease. Remember that my sisters and I will support her no matter which path she chooses. I hope she will forgive me someday. Take care of yourselves."
With those words, she opened the door and left the ship in a rustle. Will drew upon his strength to rise to his feet. He staggered slightly, but already felt better—the molasses had taken effect quickly. Kirjava rubbed against his calf. He left the room and immediately made his way towards the stairs, intending to climb to the roof of the main building. He didn't need to think; he knew she would be up there. He crossed paths with Mette, who widened her eyes upon seeing him standing.
"Hey, Will!" she called out.
"Not now," the young man said, climbing the ladder, his daemon leading the way.
He was greeted by a gust of cool, damp air. The contrast with the oppressive atmosphere of the room caused him a momentary dizziness. His arrival went unnoticed by Lyra as she remained curled up in the corner, shrouded in the darkness of the moonless night. As he approached, Will noticed that she had clenched her hands against her chest. The sound of her wheezing and labored breathing mingled with the swirling of the ocean against the ship's hull. Pan, by her side, watched her with agitation.
"I feel like she can't hear me," he squeaked.
Will knelt by her side. He knew this moment would come; he knew what she was enduring at this very moment. He had experienced it too, those heavy nights where everything stirred and nothing moved, where the pain was so intense that it felt like his entire body would implode. He had known them as a child when he dreamt of his father, during adolescence when he had to cope with the grief of his separation from Lyra, the blood on his hands, the anxieties of school and social life, and in adulthood when he had to mourn his mother. Elaine had helped him overcome those dark hours, and after her death, he had to learn to face them without her.
Lyra didn't hear him approach, nor did she realize he gently took hold of her hands. The little box of anger that she had carefully buried deep within herself had cracked open, and it had spilled out, compressing her chest and pushing her mind into obscure corners. Thick, viscous waves engulfed her, preventing her from thinking, speaking, moving, or breathing. She suffocated within herself. Voices echoed in her mind—mocking, judgmental, accusing voices—the voices of ghosts from the past. Voices she wished to silence forever. Her mother, her father... Roger...
Manipulative... like your mother...
Selfish... like your father!
You betrayed me...
You're alone, Lyra...
Alone...
Lyra...
"Lyra."
Another voice cut through the fog of her anxiety. It wasn't the voice of a ghost anymore. This voice was comforting. It blew away the surrounding mist, making everything disappear.
"Listen to me, Lyra. I'm here. Breathe slowly," it said.
She took a deep breath, as if emerging from underwater after holding her breath for several minutes. The cool wind rushed into her chest. The images slowly became clear again, and Will's face appeared, his dark eyes locked with hers, his warm hand against her cheek. But the crack remained.
"I'm here," he repeated. "Everything is fine. Look at me."
Lyra's Aegean pupils welled up with tears, and her lower lip began to tremble.
"Why didn't you say anything, Will? Why did you leave me all alone? I needed you, and you said nothing."
Will's throat tightened. There was not only resentment against the world in her eyes but also disappointment, and the worst part was that he was the cause of it.
"Don't leave me all alone. Never again."
Her voice, crushed by sorrow and fatigue, was nothing more than a whisper. Torrents of heavy tears streamed down her cheeks. Will felt his heart shattering. He held her tightly as she clung to his back and broke into sobs.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm here, I won't leave, I promise."
Lyra's nails clung to him as if letting go would drown her in her own torment. Will kissed her hair, repeating how sorry he was over and over again, that he loved her endlessly, his own silent tears escaping, while their two dæmons watched helplessly. The minutes stretched on, long and painful, contrasting with the serenity of the starry ceiling above them. Finally, as the tears subsided, Will pulled back to look at her. He softly tucked her hair behind her ears, reminding her of what Serafina Pekkala had explained: the witches' molasses, the meditation... the possible options.
"We have some time, okay?" he said calmly. "We have time to think together and make a decision together. You carry a lot, but I'm here. You don't have to go through it alone. Everything will be alright. I won't leave, ever. As long as I live, I'll be here."
She wiped her cheeks with a trembling hand and leaned against the railing, releasing a long sigh mingled by lingering sobs. Then she leaned forward, and Will held her closely. He rested his chin on the top of her head and began to hum a song, the one his mother used to sing to him when he had nightmares as a child, the one that brought hope and the promise of sunlit days ahead. Lyra, with her head against his chest, felt the vibrations of the melody running through her body, slowly unraveling her tense limbs.
They stayed like that, nestled together, two crumpled beings beneath a starlit sky. Even the wind granted them a moment of respite, gently drying their faces with its breeze. Will caressed Lyra's back, her body still trembling uncontrollably.
Then, the hatch to the rooftop opened, and Mette Rasmussen appeared in a beam of ambaric light.
"May I come in?" she asked.
Will and Lyra separated from each other as Mette approached. With a wave of her hand, she indicated that they didn't have to move for her, so Will wrapped his arm around Lyra's shoulders again. The captain sat down facing them, her dæmon by her side, both of them fixing their intense emerald eyes on the couple and their dæmons.
"You're looking better, Doc," she said. She looked at Lyra but not adding anything else. The young woman appeared so exhausted that she couldn't handle any remarks, even friendly ones.
"I need some explanations," she said seriously. "This faintness, Will, the arrival of that witch, and just the two of you like this. I need to understand what's happening on my ship."
For a few moments, Will pondered. Mette was a trustworthy woman; she had never betrayed a single sailor on her ship, and today would not be the day to change that principle. Lyra gently squeezed his hand to encourage him. She trusted him to find the right words to make them understand without revealing too much. Above all, not revealing too much. Too many people were already aware, and they had suffered enough.
"Alright," he said. "But promise me that you'll let me finish, that you won't repeat anything you hear. And believe everything I say, because it's all true."
The captain nodded, and Will began:
"I come from another world."
Mette started to chuckle incredulously, but seeing the seriousness in Will's eyes, she stopped and gestured for him to continue his story. So he told her about his world without dæmons, the discovery of the window in his Oxford, the encounter with Lyra and Pan, their travels through different worlds, the finding of Kirjava, and, of course, the separation. Lyra listened silently to the account of their lives. Will deliberately omitted certain details, not mentioning the prophecy, the Subtle Knife, or the war and the fall of the Authority. Those elements could change a lot just by being spoken, and he was no longer willing to take that risk. The captain listened attentively.
"And then, with the help of a precious friend, I found a window in Bodø. I passed through it, I met you with the sole purpose of going to the Far East to find Lyra. You know the rest. This crisis I had was caused by being away from my world for too long."
The captain fell into a deliberative silence with herself. His face was concealed in the dimness, only his untamed auburn hair stood out, flowing in the wind.
"What should I explain to the crew then?" she asked. "They're all worried."
"Tell them I suffered from severe iron deficiency," Will suggested. "That Queen Serafina Pekkala is a friend of Lyra and came to help me."
Mette simply nodded then rose to her feet, wordlessly leaving the roof and closing the hatch behind her. Back to the reassuring calm of the starry sky above, Will tightened his embrace, his hand diving into Lyra's tangled hair as he kissed her forehead. She nestled closer.
"I was so scared," she murmured, still exhausted from the internal storm that had ravaged everything. "I love you."
"You're incredible. You're the most incredible person I know." he said without stopping kissing her face.
She let out a small laugh amidst her tears. That was all he needed—to hear her laughter fill the air. She had never been as vulnerable as she was tonight. And from that pure vulnerability, a new strength emerged slowly.