Golden
Molten
Broken
A new soul all clear

Gold – Sigur Rós

The Panserbjørnes are solitary. Although power was centralized in Iorek's palace, social interactions among the bears remained rare. Most males would leave along the ice floes during the fair season, sometimes in small groups, to hunt seals, walruses, and penguins. They would bring back carcasses to the females who took care of the cubs, before they departed again. However, some were designated to watch over the vast frozen territory. They tracked vicious Cliff-Ghasts hiding in the mountains and any Tartars daring to reveal themselves. Some dedicated themselves to the expertise of handcrafting and became skilled and renowned blacksmiths or builders. Lastly, a handful of armoured bears, among the wisest and most experienced, assisted Iorek Byrnison in his role as sovereign. Rare were the female bears who hunted, tracked, or held positions of power. They did exist, but remained a tiny minority. Their main task was to teach the yound cubs the basics of life. When they reached the appropriate age, the cubs would leave their mothers to venture out on their own or join a small group. Until then, the bear cubs simulated fights in the snow, played chasing games, and tumbled over each other with sharp growls, all under Lyra's amused gaze. Sitting on the porch of the small cabin where they had spent the night, she and Will watched these little furry beings challenge each other, rolling around in splashes of pristine white. Pantalaimon and Kirjava also played in the powdery snow, plunging their snouts forward like foxes to uncover hidden little creatures, chasing one another with delighted barks, and their joy invigorated the bodies of the two humans. A gentle sun made the snow sparkle and delicately warmed their faces. Iorek joined them without his armor on his back, but with a bowl of freshly killed and carved seal meat. The sight of raw meat and blubber was enough to fully awakened Will. He looked at Lyra for a moment, slightly disgusted, as she ate one of the pieces. She turned to him, her lips red with blood.

"First, it's an honor and a privilege that the king of the Panserbjørne himself brings us food," she said very seriously. "Besides, we need to regain our strength, especially you. You lost a lot of blood yesterday. And trust me, it's actually good!"

Will hesitated but eventually accepted and ate what Iorek had brought them. It was gelatinous, warm, and surprisingly palatable. To his great surprise, vitality gradually returned to his sore muscles. By the end of the meal, he felt fully energized and satisfied. The king-bear let out a contented laugh, then invited them to follow him. They crossed the plain to reach a cavity carved into the mountain. Several chimneys emerged from the rocky foothills, spewing gray plumes of smoke. Here began the armoured bears' forges. Will's breathing intensified. Upon entering, Lyra took his hand.

"I know," she said. "I'll be here all the way. Everything will be fine."

The interior of the forge was darkened, lit by a few blubber-lamps scattered here and there, and the blazing braziers around which bear-smiths worked diligently. The temperature quickly rose, and Lyra and Will swiftly took off their fur jackets and sweaters. Iorek headed towards the largest hearth, where a bear-smith was already in place, tirelessly feeding the flames.

"The Subtle Knife, Will," Iorek ordered. "Place it here with the first pieces."

He showed him an iron plate, and Will complied, placing the handle along with the base pieces of the Subtle Knife. He set the rest on a small nearby stone. Iorek took the plate between his claws and placed it over the fire.

"I won't need you as I did before," he declared. "Will, focus, and Lyra, stay by his side. Make sure he doesn't succumb to doubt."

Lyra settled on a nearby stone, while Will chose to remain standing. Iorek waited for a moment in silence. Under the heat of the brazier, the metal of the Subtle Knife began to change, shifting colors until it reached an almost blinding incandescent white. The bear-smith handed Iorek a large hammer and the bear-king addressed the young man:

"I don't need to remind you of everything you already know. Concentrate on the blade with your mind, with your soul, to keep the edge straight. Never let your focus waver. Are you ready, boy?"

The task was complex, and Will remembered it perfectly. He took a deep breath and focused his entire being on the glowing metal. Sensing his readiness, Iorek removed the fused pieces from the fire and placed them on an anvil. He raised his hammer and struck it with a swift blow. Time seemed to stand still around them. Will's gaze remained fixed on the Subtle Knife, and only the echo of the regular strikes resonated in his mind. Tirelessly, Iorek continued to strike, sparks flying brightly and fervently.

He returned the Knife to the fire, adding the remaining pieces one by one to fuse them together with meticulous precision. Will remained still, his entire consciousness immersed in each atom of the glowing metal. Within each blow struck by Iorek, he felt his soul tightening. As each piece melded into another, a part of himself was being reassembled. There was no pain, just a sense of fulfillment and rightness. Everything that mattered was there, within his field of vision. Lyra on one side, Kirjava on the other, and the Subtle Knife in the middle. Everything was in its rightful place, just as the Earth revolves on its axis around the sun, as the moon rises every night and sets every morning, as spring follows winter. Hypnotized, Lyra watched. The blazing fire, carefully kept at the exact temperature by the bear-smith, stung her eyes and warmed her cheeks. Her gaze lifted to Will, who stood tall beside her, his fists clenched. His serene face radiated tranquility. His breathing was slow. Kirjava also looked at the brazier with the same expression. And Lyra's eyes shifted from his peaceful countenance to the mighty blows of Iorek, and then back to Will. The atmosphere filled with power, splendor, and delicacy. She was moved. And the hammer struck, again and again. Sparks flew under the repeated blows. Iorek issued orders to his bear-smith. He struck, shaped, honed, and refined that blade with the utmost care.

Suddenly, Will's eyes widened. It was done. The Subtle Knife was whole again. He took a sharp breath, fell to his knees, and tears rolled down his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands and began to sob like a child. Lyra rushed to him, alarmed. Iorek plunged the Subtle Knife into a basin of ice-cold water, and thick white steam rose from it. Then, he placed it on a small stone table.

Will sniffed and rubbed his eyes with his palms before standing up. His head throbbed horribly, but it was alright because the Subtle Knife was there, waiting for him, complete, and Lyra's hand was resting against his forearm. He approached to grasp the handle. The blade, still warm, radiated in his palm. He twirled it between his fingers. It certainly looked like it had been before it was broken for the second time: damaged, with dark and thin but present seams, and even smaller than before. But the sharpness of the blade remained the same, if not even more precise. Under the light of the hearth, the Subtle Knife revealed its cloudy hues, almost as intricate as before. Its gray-blue gleam reflected on Will's face as he observed it carefully.

"Tell me if it has become what it once was," Iorek requested.

Will held out his arm, closed his eyes, and smiled. Yes, the Subtle Knife had become what it was, and yes, he, the Bearer, had not forgotten how to wield it. His consciousness flowed naturally down his arm and settled into the sharpest edge of the blade. He slowly moved his hand through the air, and there it was, the tiny gap where the tip of the Subtle Knife nestled. All he had to do was lower his arm to unveil a new world. It felt surprisingly effortless. He folded his elbow and sheathed the knife.

Facing the young man, Iorek spoke, "It is not for me to advise you to use it sparingly. You are fully aware of that, and you are wise. I won't doubt or lie because those are human traits, but this tool still worries me just as much. Be very cautious."

"I will," Will replied, nodding. "Thank you, Iorek."

"Now, let me escort you back to the shore. My bears have taken good care of your dogs. They are ready to pull you along with me."

As they set off to return to the biting cold of the Great North, Lyra took Will's hand.

"I'm very proud of you," she said.

He smiled, placed his palm against her burning cheek, then slid his fingers to the back of her head, intertwining them with her hair. He leaned in to kiss her, under the surprised gaze of the bear-smiths.

That's how they left the kingdom of the bears. At the forefront was Iorek Byrnison, clad in his armor, followed by the dogs pulling the sled where Will, Lyra, and their dæmons were seated and behind them was Siguróli, swift and strong like his father. They reached the shore and saw Cæsar's small boat approaching in the distance, a tiny dot on the blue-pale horizon. Siguróli left them to observe a group of walruses sunning themselves just a few meters away.

"Lyra," said Iorek, "tell me your story. How did you find each other ?"

Lyra took a deep breath and began to recount: the search for Pantalaimon, the Far East, and the unexpected reunion followed by their new separation. Aleppo, Istanbul, Berlin, Bodø, and then Will once again. The round trip to New France, Xaphania's words, and everything Iorek already knew. She spoke of the Starling Network, the ongoing threat of the Magisterium and the Church in general, and the need to have the armoured bears as allies. Iorek listened attentively.

"I hear what you're telling me, Lyra," he eventually said. "But these are human affairs, and bears do not interfere in human affairs, just as humans do not interfere in ours. We did it once, and meddling only brought despair to the bears. You see, the hole in the sky that Asriel created caused serious upheaval in our territory. Upheavals that we are still trying to heal, and they are being balanced by this new order in progress. Do not be disappointed, Lyra Silvertongue. Understand my decision and accept it."

Cæsar's boat finally docked. The man was taken aback to see the massive armoured bear alongside the two humans he had brought the previous day, but he couldn't hide his relief to find the young couple alive and in one piece. Will and him unfastened the sled dogs to bring them on board, but the animals understandood that they were going home and joyfully bounded around the two men. They placed their paws on their chests, wagging their tails, while Cæsar tried in vain to pull them towards the deck, grumbling. Will tumbled into the snow and burst into laughter as one of the dogs threw himself on him, showering him with playful licks. Cæsar managed to retrieve the dog and brought it, along with the others, onto the boat. Will got up, dusted off his pants, and turned to the bear-king.

"Thank you for everything, King Iorek," he greeted with respect.

"You two are brave and strong," said Iorek. "The bond that unites you is unbreakable. I entrust her to you. Take care of her, Will, take care of yourselves. Go well."

Will nodded and joined Cæsar to help bring the sled onto the boat. Lyra hugged her friend's massive muzzle.

"Goodbye, my dear Iorek," she said.

"Farewell, Lyra," the bear replied.

Lyra furrowed her brow and was about to respond, but Iorek anticipated her: "Bears sense certain things that humans do not. Death does not frighten us. It is part of the natural cycle of life. Do not be sad for me, Lyra. My life has been complete and fulfilling. You are one of the rare humans who have been of value to me. You are and will always be welcome in this territory. Go now."

Lyra placed her hand on his warm snout and gazed into his dark eyes. The wind had picked up, tousling her hair, freezing the tip of her nose and ears, and making her eyes water. Her throat tightened. Then, she slid her arms around his neck and buried her face in his thick, warm fur. She whispered words that only he could hear. In response, he emitted a deep, rumbling growl that resonated within her. He gently nudged away her with his head.

"Go," he ordered in a soft voice.

She released him and turned away, her chin held high but her jaws clenched, to join Will on the deck. Cæsar untied the mooring line from the bollard and went back to his cabin to start the boat. Lyra stood at the stern, firmly gripping the railing. She watched without blinking or looking away as the shores of Svalbard slowly receded. She watched a bear that would soon be reduced to a tiny off-white dot amidst an even whiter expanse. She watched him turn and soar far, very far towards the eternal mountains. Two hands gently rested on her shoulders. Lyra turned around and buried her face against Will's chest as he embraced her. She took in a long breath of the scent of his tanned leather jacket, then let out a heavy sob. Will placed his chin on the top of her head.

"Everything will be alright," he whispered.

They found Katja and her small, dimly lit inn. She, too, seemed relieved to see them in one piece. Once again, she served them a warm, hearty, and comforting dinner, and Lyra asked if, this time, they could have a room with a bathtub. She was longing for a bath.

And now, she sighed with delight in the warm bath, closing her eyes, her head resting against the edge of the tub. She opened them again when she heard Will joining her. She folded her legs to make room for his long body in the small tub, where he entered in with a grimace. He had tended to his injured arm. The bloodmoss had worked remarkably well, and he already regretted having doubted, and not taking samples with him. He had tightened the wound with the help of small adhesive strips he had brought from his world. Lyra noticed that his chest was covered in bruises.

"How do you feel?" she asked, resting her chin on her folded knees.

"I'll be fine. I'll take better care of it when we get back to the boat tomorrow."

"Hm, I was asking about you. How do you feel?" Lyra insisted.

He shrugged and glanced towards the room where he could see the sheath of the Subtle Knife.

"I don't really know... reassured, whole, guilty, relieved, terrified… all at the same time... it's strange," he admitted.

"You know that you're not just defined by the Subtle Knife," Lyra added. "That you're so much more than that."

"I know. But imagine if the alethiometer being broken for years, and finally, someone fixed it. I think you can guess how I feel," he said.

Lyra knew. She knew what it felt like to be viscerally attached to an object, to have it stolen or taken away, only to eventually come back to you. Will remained silent for a moment, his eyes staring into the clear water of the bath. Then, he reached out and took Lyra's forearm, gently pulling her towards him. As she turned, small waves were created, crashing against the side of the bathtub. He kissed her temple once, twice, as she settled comfortably against him. He took a deep breath, followed by a long exhale, feeling her body leaning against his. Lyra extended her legs under the water, pressing the soles of her feet against the side of the bathtub. She placed her arms on his thighs that encased her. Will had folded his arms on the edge and let his hands soak in the warm water.

"How do you cope with having killed someone?" she suddenly asked.

Lyra could feel Will tensing slightly behind her. He exhaled deeply.

"I don't," he replied. "I hate it. I genuinely hate it. I only did it because I had no choice. You know that, right? It was either him or you. I didn't need to think about it…"

"I know, I'm sorry," she interjected softly. "I wish things had turned out differently."

"Me too,"

There was a pause, and then Lyra spoke again : "Remember when I told I had questioned the alethiometer about Kirjava and you, to find out if you were truly present, and it responded so fervently? I told you that it spoke of a change but I didn't know what it meant ?"

"I do remember, yes,"

"The truth is, I was terrified to ask for more details. Cause the symbol it showed primarily means death. And when you remained unconscious after the storm, I started to believe that it had indeed foretold your death, and I'm not sure I could have survived that," Lyra confessed.

Will had opened his eyes and was listening attentively, his breathing slow but his heart racing.

"But in the end, I think my first interpretation was correct," she added. "I mean, you're clearly going through a major change, aren't you?"

Will nodded. Leaving his own world, undergoing a radical life change, of course, it was a major change. He had felt like he was acting naturally, instinctively, but it was still a significant change nonetheless. Lyra intertwined their fingers and kissed the back of his hand, and then there was a calm and soothing silence. Every fiber of their beings finally relaxed slowly.

"You know," Lyra said as she watched their fingers reflected in the water, "I find us very brave."

"Brave for what?" asked Will, his eyes closed, his cheek resting against her damp blond hair. "Sailing? Defying angels? Battling Tartars? Negotiating with armoured bears?"

"Yes, but no. For being in love. It's easier to be alone, don't you think? To stay with oneself, have no one else to worry about except oneself, manage one's affairs all alone, with no one to push us out of our comfort zone, confront us with our flaws and limitations. It requires effort, self-demand."

"I push you out of your comfort zone? I thought you were at ease everywhere."

"Of course not. A part of me longs to go back to the comfort of the walls of Jordan College. But isn't it scary? Intimidating. And also beautiful. And it makes us stronger too. So, I find us brave for being in love."

"You're right," he said softly.

"Of course I am!"

Will let out a clear laugh that echoed in the small room.

"I'm happy you're here," Lyra added in a low voice. "I'm happy that you're staying here."

With a smile, Will held her close. The anbaric light from the ceiling bathed the room with a pale glow. When the bathwater had turned almost cold, they got out, relaxed, wrapping each other in thick towels. Will returned to the bedroom to get dressed, but his attention was captivated by what was happening outside.

"Hey, Lyra! Come and see this!"

Lyra watched absentmindedly at the water swirling down the drain in a gurgling whirlpool. She turned to join Will, who stood facing the window. The lamp in the room was turned off, but his face was bathed in a soft, ethereal glow. When she reached his side, he placed his hand at the base of her neck, his thumb against her nape. Outside, darkness had finally settled for a few brief hours, and before them, the Aurora was there, long and delicate like a silk veil. Its brilliant emerald base extended towards the high ceilings of the sky, taking on hues of pink, purple, and translucence. t danced, a fragile, shifting fabric, stretching to the far reaches of the Great Northern Ocean, to the corners of their pupils, captivating their minds. Will's hand slid down Lyra's shoulder to encircle her and hold her closer, his thumb gently caressing her clavicle, his eyes still enthralled by the light.

Everything in its right place.

Behind them, in a secluded corner of the room, their two dæmons embraced, circling around one another, rubbing their fur in a slow and tender dance. Kirjava, purring with delight, pressed her paws against Pantalaimon's side, and he surrendered, his little eyes closed in pleasure. He sat up, seizing the cat with his russet paws and drawing her close, rubbing their heads together. He pressed his nose against the silky neck of the feline in deep, sensuous, and gentle movements. Lyra and Will allowed themselves to be enveloped in this trance, their gaze still fixed on the Aurora swirling before their eyes.

Motionless.

Breathless.

Hearts pounding wildy.

Lyra's muscles tensed, and she let out a gasp. She clung to the arm that encircled her shoulders. An intense fire ignited in her belly and spread throughout her body, all the way to her fingertips, heating her face and quickening her breath. A fire fueled by the warmth of Will's body radiating into hers. Baffled, the young man tightened his embrace and murmured, "What's the..." before stopping, breathless.

" Oh Lyra ... " he moaned, burrying his face in her neck.

He ran his fingers along Lyra's palpitating throat, going up to the angle of her jaw, brushing her lips as their breaths intensified. She gently bit his thumb that entered her mouth. He wrapped her waist with his arm, sliding his hand under her towel, grabbing her hip. Then, she turned around, throwing her arms around his neck to eargerly seize his lips, and pushing him onto the bed. The soft fabric surrounding her body slipped at her feet in a muffled noise.

The two daemons had stopped their excited play. They watched, astonished, as the Aurora gain in strenght and brilliance in the sky. The delicate jade hue filled the entire room, almost blinding them, and illuminating the entwined bodies.

"Do you think they know?" whispered Pantalaimon, glancing toward the bed where two shadows were kissing, laughing, and sighing.

Kirjava shook her head, her gaze fixed on the shimmering vastness, her tail entwined with the pine marten's. The dance continued and stretched out for several long minutes, and then the light dimmed as the lovers gently untangled from one another.

"And now?" asked Lyra, her eyes heavy, with Will nestled against her chest.

"Now?"

"What are we going to do?"

"First, we'll return to Bodø," Will explained in a low voice. "Then, I'll reopen that damn window. And I'm quite sure Xaphania will be there."

"And then?"

"Then, we'll go to the apartment I rent in my world. I'll tidy up my things, and you can rummaged around everywhere. Maybe we'll even have time to go to the cinema. And of course, we'll see Mary, or else she'll kill me."

"And after that?"

"After that, we'll go back for good. And finally, we'll start a peaceful life."

"Do you think so?"

"You promised me, and I trust you. So, for life, yeah. Peaceful, well, I may have some doubts."

"Hmm, sounds like a good plan," Lyra added with a slight smile.

"It is."

Outside, the Aurora slowly faded away, making room for the emerging dawn.

Before leaving, Lyra thanked Katja again and again for her kindness and hospitality.

"It's only natural, love," the innkeeper replied. "The North is a wild and harsh territory. We know how to recognize friends from foes and how to take care of the former and reject the latter. You're welcome here anytime."

And once again, the deserted alleys, the aërodock and the sputtering zeppelin. Once again, the ever-changing landscape revealing villages, towns, and forests, hands intertwined, whispers amidst the hum of the engine. Once again, Bodø with its constant bustle. Once again, the tiny alley. They placed their rucksack near a stack of wooden pallets, close to the original location of the window.

"Xaphania, reveal yourself," Will said. "We know you're here."

There was a rustle, and the angel appeared before them, clad only in her flickering light from inside.

"Good evening," she said slowly. "I see you've changed your mind. I'm glad. I also sense you have questions. Ask them."

Will and Lyra remained silent for a moment.

"Will you take care of the Spectre that will emerge from this new window?" Will asked.

"Yes," the Angel replied. "You may not see them, but I am surrounded by several angels, and we are prepared."

Lyra stepped forward and looked at the angel harshly.

"Why?" she questionned. "Why does all of this happen to us? Why does it keep happening? To us?"

"I don't have all the answers yet, Lyra," Xaphania replied soflty. "You attract Dust in an exceptional way. And whatever you two do together, you will attract it. Dust still holds mysteries that we have not been able to unravel. It continues and will continue to fuel rumors, to remain enigmatic and elusive. But think of all the possibilities that come with love. Remember your parents' actions, Lyra."

The young woman recoiled slightly.

"What do you mean?" she stammered, bewildered.

"You know that your parents plunged into the Abyss with the Regent. But did you know they did it out of love, for you? To allow you to fulfill your destiny. To protect you,"

"Stop!" Lyra cried out, her eyes shining with anger. "Just stop! Shut up!"

Her body trembled, and Will held her close, whispering in her ear : "It will be okay. Don't let them invade your mind. I'm here, everything will be fine."

He then turned his gaze towards Xaphania, with Lyra still clinging to him.

"The Subtle Knife must not be used after today," he declared sternly. "Make sure that such events never happen again. As for me, I promise to ensure that the balance of the windows remains the same. I pledge to come to your aid, only if it's a matter of vital necessity."

"That suits us," Xaphania agreed. "And we, in turn, pledge to tirelessly watch over the windows, ensuring that none are ever closed, and that stability prevails, allowing Dust to continue flowing between worlds for eternity."

Will nodded, and Lyra stepped back from him. He drew the Subtle Knife from its sheath, so light and yet so heavy at the same time. An immense sense of calm engulfed his body, like a flock of birds soaring into the boundless sky. He breath in and extended his arm. Lyra watched him perform the familiar motion he had done dozens and dozens of times before. Searching for the tiniest halt in the air, ensuring it led to the desired world, and then swiftly cutting through it. She observed him with the same look he gave her when she used the alethiometer – a gaze filled with admiration, wonder, and pride.

And just like that, with a gesture so simple, so natural, and so undeniable, the window to the North was reopened.

Author's note : So I know this fic is read cause I see the stats ehe but this is a very very quiet fandom. So if you feel like leaving a review, a feedback to tell me what you think of this story so far, feel absolutely free :) It'll means a lot. I hope you enjoy what you read anymay and thanks for reading it ✨